Jen’s Black Mountain Marathon
Sat 02.25.06
It all
started with a harmless little blurb in Runner’s World Magazine about the best
races to bonk for. Black Mountain
Marathon, North Carolina, caution, look out for bears! All finishers receive a Camelback along with
a variety of other cool trail gear from
Anyhow,
September rolled around and the early-bird entry forms were out. Somehow we managed to get on the illustrious
list of previous entrants & get ours in before the race opened up to the
general public. And somehow we also
managed to find some other FBFers even crazier than us… bold enough to dare to
go for the full Challenge… Charmaine
& Gerhard Van Niekerk. Good thing,
because both races were full within days of the posting to the website. We were in!
Fast
forward to race week. Weather forecast
changed daily. Heavy snow in previous
weeks had rendered mountain webcam image resembling something out of the Arctic
tundra. Finally, within days, and with
over a week without snow, forecast was only calling for a slight change of
afternoon showers… low in the low 30’s, high in the 50’s. Perfect.
And perfect
it was. Race morning was quite chilly,
and we met up at the finish line, some ¾ of a mile or so from the start, but
where the race director assured us we would much rather have our car situated
upon completion of the race. Continuous
mini-van shuttles helped get us to the start at the bottom (yes, I emphasize
bottom) of
Remember I
said bottom? Start was as simple as a
ready, set, go, and they wasted no time in sending us uphill. Yes, we started the race literally running
After 2
miles or so we had reached Montreat, the college campus situated at the foot of
the mountain. Here I was so glad that we
had chatted with a local at Jus’ Running, the Finish Line Sports shop of the
area, who informed us that we’d be encountering the steepest slopes of the
climb before we even hit the mountain trails, on the paved roads of this
incredibly scenic campus. And boy, he
wasn’t kidding! I was so glad to know this
or else the biggest battle of the day would have been convincing myself to
continue for the rest of the 15 miles uphill this marathon offered.
And yes, I
just said 15 miles. Someone’s wonderful
sense of humor thought it would be incredibly fun not to have the course carry
on for a nice 13.1 miles uphill then turn around & go back, but rather to
send you up a full 15 with a wonderful surprise in store for you on your 11+
mile descent. But more on that in a few.
So finally
the worst it seemed was over & we had hit the mountain trail. I was excited because I’d lost sight of the
back of the pack & was starting to pass a few people now & again after
taking it out exceptionally easy on the road.
At this
point the trails were a lot like out dear friend the Green Trail at Memorial
Park, not too many rocks & roots, just minus any of the rolling hills &
lots more “up”. You’d start a gentle
climb for a bit, then it would level out for a little while, then up you went
again. Simple enough. I chatted for a while with each person I
passed, in no hurry to overtake half the mountain in this first stretch with no
idea what other challenges the day would present.
Ran for a
bit with a really nice woman named Gillian who has done several Ironman
races. She was from
Guess I
shouldn’t have been so excited to be passing folks, as not even 5 minutes after
I left Gillian behind I found myself following the “up” rule & not paying
close enough attention to the flags.
Turned out, the trail I’d taken that started out looking so good had
after a brief steep uphill literally gone downhill real fast. I kept looking for the flagging &
couldn’t seem to find any at all, though the trail was still marked as the
Rainbow Trail, which I knew was supposed to be a part of the course. Finally I hit a trailhead with absolutely no
clue which way to go & knew something was seriously wrong. I stood in the same spot for a few minutes
just waiting for Gillian to catch up & she never came. I was nearly in tears, as I knew that I was
all alone & had no idea how far back I was going to have to go to get back
on the race course, or where I’d gone so wrong.
I just had to hope that I could get back, and that I wouldn’t be dead
last.
After
retracing my steps for what was likely just under a half mile, I finally found
the origin of my mistake. Only thing
was, now I could see the flagging quite clearly, in both the direction I’d come
from & where I was supposed to go.
Problem was, I wasn’t 100% certain which was which. And there was not a soul in site.
I decided
that I’d mistakenly decided to follow the wrong trail because the other was not
going uphill, so I should follow the path that started downhill. May have sounded like some stupid reasoning,
but fortunately it worked. The path I
hadn’t taken had a brief downhill before resuming the ascent, and I soon hit
trails that I was certain I hadn’t come to before. Thank goodness!
Maybe a
mile or so went by without encountering another runner (though certain I was
now doing OK because there was extensive flagging & the trails were
starting to get rockier & much different than at the base as I continued to
climb) I finally ran into the man that was at the very back of the pack. What a relief, but how sad to know that I had
really lost that much time! I think that
when we’d started up the mountain I was a good 10 minutes or more ahead of him…
and now all those people I’d worked so hard to pass were well over 10 minutes
ahead of me! Ugh!
I decided
that I didn’t care, I was having fun & you really couldn’t beat the
scenery, so no matter. I walked &
talked with last place for a while & took some pictures before heading on
my way. Unfortunately, I was now at mile
5 or so (really closer to 6 if you count my unwelcome addition), and the sip of
coffee I’d had at the start line was really starting to brew in my stomach, if
you know what I mean. (Sorry, if I gross
anyone out here…)
Anyhow, I
desperately needed to pull over to the side of the trail for some relief, but
unfortunately we were now at a point in the trail where that proved to be
virtually impossible. To my right, a
steep incline with trees & brush growing upward, but rather cliff-like in
dimension, to my left, a sharp drop off of a couple hundred feet or so.
I tried to
run, but it really seemed to make matters worse. I kept thinking that at some point I was
going to be able to pull over & the sooner I got there the better, but then
I about doubled over when I got up any speed at all. Finally there was enough space to make it off
the trail, but absolutely no cover whatsoever, so if this pit stop took longer
than a few minutes I knew for sure that last place guy would literally catch me
with my pants down.
So I
plodded on in search of higher ground.
Finally,
the discomfort passed & I was able to run again. I knew that rest stop #1 couldn’t be too far,
& I thought that by some stroke of luck they just might have hauled a
port-o-potty up there. No, I wasn’t
delirious yet, though that sure was some wishful thinking. I did finally hit the rest stop, sans port-a-potty,
but I was now starting to get on a roll (blood must have finally started
pumping to my legs & away from the intestines) & was ready to start
catching some more people.
4 or so
miles to the next aid station. The trail
was getting rockier & rockier, with some fairly steep patches, though
nothing like I’d seen at the start. I
kept a close watch on my breathing & kept running, even on the uphills, as
long as it stayed fairly reasonable.
When I started to get too out of breath I knew that my heart rate must
be really climbing with my climb & I’d take a moment or two to walk before
trying to pick it up again.
This plan
seemed to work well, and I overtook a group of 3 men. Not too long after, I’d caught up to 2 ladies
in blue pullovers that were among the first I’d passed at the beginning. That felt good. I wondered how much further to Gillian.
I kept
plugging away, making sure I listened to my watch as well, which was programmed
for 10/1’s. This was mostly so that I
made sure to drink, as the weather was cool enough that you might very well
forget to otherwise. I ran some in the
walk breaks if the section was flatter, walked some during the run time if it
got too steep. Sometimes I’m sure that
it was faster to walk up the hill than for me to run.
Finally, just
before the next aid stop I caught up to a woman who’d run
The next
aid station had coke, which was exactly what my poor stomach needed. I ended up getting behind all 3 of the folks
I’d just passed refueling at this stop, but I left feeling completely refreshed
& refueled, and quickly overtook them again.
However, I
was now somewhere in the vicinity of mile 10.
5ish miles to go before the turnaround.
And here was the first batch of ice.
I’d purchased yaktraks to carry with for just such an occasion, but at
the last minute had decided to leave them in my bag at the start rather than
lug them around for the entire race. Now
I was thinking ‘what ever was I thinking?’
This first batch of ice was super slick, and I worried that I was going
to have 5 miles of this to overcome, and there was NO WAY to run on this stuff
without yaktraks or completely wiping out, likely with a fractured tailbone.
I slowly
took one step after another & in 100 yards or so it all had passed. Whew!
And not to be seen again until less than a mile before the marathon
turnaround. Thank goodness.
It was also
somewhere around here I started seeing more & more folks headed back
down. Most were very encouraging, &
I tried to say hi & keep it up to each runner who passed. Unfortunately, somehow after saying hello
several runners found it hard to stay on their feet. Guess
Maybe 2
miles or so from the turnaround I finally ran into Roman making his
descent. You couldn’t have missed him;
he was whooping & hollering & catcalling from way up the hill. What a nice pick-me-up. A hug & a few encouraging words later we
were both back on our separate ways.
The rest of
the uphill mostly passed without event, and skipping ahead, I hit that second
patch of ice (which was much less severe than the first) & though it
stretched a bit longer, there were still tufts of grass poking through that
rendered most of it still run-able, or at least making it where you only had to
stop & walk maybe once or twice in a half-mile span.
Finally I’d
made it to “the parkway”, the stretch of real road that was drivable up the
mountain, and that lead straight to the turnaround point. Still hadn’t seen Gillian. Had I missed her? Hey, there she was heading back my way! She’d just left the aid station &
couldn’t be more than a quarter mile ahead of me now. Woohoo!
I was
really pumped then, but I didn’t want to rush it, as I knew I had the whole
second half to catch her on the home stretch.
I took my time at the aid station & got to see 2 of the leading 3
men from the challenge come through on their way back down, only 10 miles or so
more under their belt than me at this point in the same time span. Nuts, huh?
These guys were really flying!
The
turnaround was an incredible feeling.
One many may be familiar with if you bike. Once you get off the bike for a few, you get
back on & feel like a whole new person, whole new legs. Never had that feeling before with running,
that is, until now. I felt like I was
starting a whole new race!
However,
right at the turn to get on the parkway I’d never been happier to see a port-o-potty
in my life. I passed it up in my hurry to
reach the top, but in the way back down I thought better of it. I now knew about how much further I’d have to
go to overtake the same woman I’d passed 11-12 miles earlier, and I was feeling
much more confident. So, my intestinal
woes now seeming to be very much a thing of the past, I still decided there was
no need to take the chance of some repeat performance in the last 11.2. It’s not like I was out to win.
I also
stopped up there to take a couple pictures, and got one taken of me too (not
with the port-o-potty!)
Finally, I
started the downhill climb. And climb it
was! You should never underestimate the
difficulty of running downhill for 11+ miles.
Especially on the rocks! It was
brutal, and every step could be the misstep that leads to your (down)fall.
Turns out
Roman took a nasty spill on the way down & has the bruises to prove
it. I managed to stay upright, though
somewhere just under 20 miles or so I did roll my ankle pretty good. Oh, well.
No snaps, crackles or pops, and I just kept running. For the downhill I stayed pretty true to the
10/1 beeps. I made sure to take the walk
breaks, but I really didn’t stop otherwise.
I was so glad that I hadn’t taken it out too fast & still had the
quad strength left to control my descent or else it really could have been
pretty bad.
Gerhard
passed me somewhere around here too, on his descent from the 40-mile
challenge. He said he was hurting pretty
bad but seemed to be in fairly good spirits.
And just like that, he was gone.
And then
there was Gillian. She’d run just about
the entire way up & was now really hurting for it (like I said, sometimes I
think it was actually faster to walk!).
Anyhow, I told her about getting lost & my 10 minute bathroom pit
stop & she managed to run with me for a little bit, but then it was time
for me to take off unless I wanted to be walking the west of the way down.
A few miles
later & finally I’d come back to the very first aid station, also doubling
as the last as you left the mountain. At
this point you were directed down a different trail than we’d come up to
account for the shorter back half of this race.
There I was told I had 3.5 miles to go, just follow the path straight
down the mountain & I was almost done!
Yippee!
Until I
realized that it was STRAIGHT down.
Turns out this was no joke. Or
perhaps the race director’s sick joke.
It was literally no longer possible to lean into the downhill, increase
the leg turnover & just go. If you
did, you would surely find yourself somersaulting down the hill. Imagine running down the initial drop of the
good ‘ol Texas Cyclone roller coaster.
This is the best description I can give of the steep drop in the path we
had to navigate to the finish line. My
toes ached from repeatedly slamming into the ends of my shoes as gravity forced
my feet further downward, and I was sure I was going to lose all my toenails by
the end.
Then at
last I’d made it off the mountain, but the best was yet to come. Roman & I drove the streets of
I managed
to do all right, though I was realizing that that last aid stop’s 3.5 miles to
the finish was one big fat LIE!!! Maybe
1.5 to 2 miles in, I hit the final aid station, where I was then told I had another 3 miles to go. Ouch!
But I was on such a roll that I didn’t even stop & kept putting one
foot in front of the other, knowing each step was one closer to the finish
line.
But wait,
another surprise! I had thought we’d be
running back along the same street we’d gone out on, but turns out now we were
being directed to another trail that ran parallel to the road… and there were stairs!
It really
wasn’t so bad though, as this was probably the prettiest part of the whole
entire course. I felt like I was in a
fairy-tale forest, running alongside a tree-lined stream, bounding over the
brush, crossing cute little bridges, all the while wondering where in the world
the that finish line had disappeared to!
Finally the
trail spit you back out on the road again.
Had we really run this far to get out of town? There was
I passed
quite a few folks on this home stretch.
Seemed like I was the only one still running, and then a competitor from
the Challenge would come flying by & make me feel like I was really just
standing still.
Then there
it was, the turn for the lake. Less than
a mile to go now, they told me. Just
down this street, around the lake, and it would all be over. Easier said than done.
I don’t
think I’d taken a walk break in the last hour, and it was no time to start
now. One foot in front of the other, see
if we could maybe even pick up some speed.
All things considered I felt pretty d@mn good.
I reached
the
I worked
hard to try to speed up. Little did I
know that Roman had broken into a full-blown sprint to catch up to me & run
me in. In a few hundred yards he’d made
it, but was so out of breath he couldn’t speak a word. I was just so happy to see him. We circled the lake side by side & as I
rounded the last bend the announcer started calling out my name, ‘and here
comes Jen Browne for
HOO
YAH! Ordinary people doing extraordinary
things, hell yeah! This race was
absolutely incredible, and I would recommend it to ANY Fort Bend Fitter,
H-T-REXer, or just fellow crazy like me.
Thanks to Roman for convincing me that we HAD to do this & having
the determination to see it through no matter what! It was all of the fun of Sunmart with the
backdrop of the
***I’ll have pics for y’all
hopefully by the end of the week. Didn’t
want to take the digi in case I took a nasty spill or it rained.