Robin Fry
Ashland, Ohio
Mid-Ohio Extreme Endurance Runners
For ten days, whatever I have been doing has been
interrupted, momentarily, by the alarm of my wristwatch going off at about 10:40
PM. Each of those days, upon hearing the sound, I have thought, “Ah, yes I
remember…I was lying on the trail, in some soft pine needles, on the next to
last circuit of the forest trails during the Double MoE. I had set my watch
alarm, in case I fell asleep, intending only to lie still a moment and look at
the bright stars, even brighter than last year….”
Each of the previous nine days, I have managed to put
off writing up a tale of this year’s run.
Memories too painful?
No. Pain too memorable? No.
Just not quite ready yet? Well,
yes, partly that, and partly that I just cannot seem to get the urge, kind of
like trying to get started on that second hundred this year, before being told
that two runners had come in and already run out of camp ahead of me. The time has arrived—Let’s
go!!!!!!
Those who read the tale of the first (“the unauthorized”)
Double Moe may ask,
“What about the van, you know, the 60s van? Did it
reappear?”
And yes, I did catch a fleeting glimpse of the van; at
least I assume it was the same one.
Although, how can you be sure with an
illusion?
I saw it there on my right, headlights shining, coming
up the shoulder on the wrong side of the road, at dawn’s first light on the
second day, with about 86 miles done. It appeared to have been painted a
reddish-orange, and had a sun roof, I think, but it was gone in a flash. I
couldn’t begin to get the license number. But I heard it’s engine revving, and
it sounded like it was saying,“ONNNNNNNNN-ONNNN,
ONNNN-ONNNNN…
Eight of us had started the run, during a pause in the
downpour. Joe West had arrived with friend Patricia, three days earlier,
allowing time to see some of the course and for Patricia to learn the lay of the
land, so that she could be at the right places, at the right times. Joe had
immediately decided to try the 2000 Double MoE after reading about the initial
running. Mike Dobies had arrived with his friend Sue, from Michigan, at 9:00 PM the night before the run began.
Mike had just returned to Michigan from Oregon, having run the Portland Marathon
on Sunday. Regis Shivers (the
Elder), the second place finisher from 1999, was back –with a plan! Frederick
Davis III was back for a second try, less than one week after completing the
Angeles Crest 100 Mile Run in California . Don Baun had intended to run in 1999, but a busy
schedule and severe headache caused
him to withdraw the night before it began.
Jerry Bartram was back for a second try, having pulled out after more
than 100 miles in 1999. Keith
Belluardo was, well….who knew what he really had in mind?
After an obligatory first mile with all of us sticking
together, I had decided to press on ahead, gently. After about nine miles, the rains
returned. The rain had already caused some problems, as it had kept three of the
runners, including the “race director”
(sheepish grin here) from hearing their alarms go off at 5:00 AM. We had
started thirty minutes late. The rain reached the torrential downpour stage as I
arrived at Rock Point, the beginning of the Mohican-Memorial State Forest bridle
trail system. I changed into new
Montrail Hurricane Ridges, hoping to take advantage of the excellent
traction. I got away before the
other runners arrived, then pressed onward at a reasonable pace (i.e., a pace
which I would consider pathetically slow during the 100 Mile in
June).
I continued on alone through 23 miles, when I saw Sue,
Mike Dobie’s crew drive up in their vehicle—with Mike in the vehicle. Not good!
Our first DNF already! I thought back to the evening before, when Mike had
arrived, when I thought he just did not seem to be “INTO” it. I knew it wasn’t fear of the distance.
Mike has finished the Hardrock Hundred at least twice, and braved the Barkely.
He got out of the car, said goodbye, and told me, “Go after that soft course
record”. I begged him to hang
around, and give it a little longer, but he was not to be swayed. To his esteemed credit, he did leave
some of the excellent post-run micro-brew he had brought from Michigan. Three varieties, one “growler” of each.
For “Medicinal Purposes!”
At 29 miles, while taking a brief “metabolic break”, I knew Regis Shivers, Jerry Bartram, and
Don Baun, were very close, and I paused and continued eating until they
arrived. We would all stay within a
few minutes of each other for several miles. Don would drop back, gradually, until he was about
one hour behind when he had completed 57 miles. He stopped after 62 miles, saying he could not see himself
staying “out there, all alone, for two more days”. He, at that point, became a most
valuable volunteer crew person to the remaining runners, now
six.
Or was it five? What about Keith Belluardo? Well, Keith had some difficulties,
including lost light during the first night. He had run with Joe and Fred for
the first 22 miles, but then became separated when he ran the “blue loop” out of
sequence. Keith was later found holed up in our trailside “crash-site”,
shivering and wet. A Mohican State Park ranger passed the word along that Keith
was “chilling”, and Don Baun returned Keith to Mohican Wilderness Campground, to
rest and get warm. After this respite, Keith would return to the course to join
and encourage the runners who remained.
When Jerry and Regis stopped for a long rest break the
first night, it became apparent to my wife, Marcia, and me, that they intended
to stick together. They would rest
for over 4 hours, while I ran on into the dark, literally! As I topped a long hill after the bridle
trail camp, about 75 miles done, my flashlight suddenly began to fade, and then
went dark! Had we forgotten to replace worn batteries? Maybe, but from past experience with the
Bison Sportslight, there should have been ample life remaining. I had started
the night with fresh batteries. I
changed the bulb, replacing it with the one in the storage chamber, using the
faint blue light of my watch. It
immediately slipped out of place,
onto the trail before I could turn on the light!
Now, in the darkest place I had ever been, with no
moonlight or starlight thanks to the continuing cloud and intermittent showers,
I tried to find my way with only the Indiglo TM
of my watch to guide me. I staggered in the dark, into ditches and thorn
bushes. I wandered uphill and
downhill, and through unseen creek crossings, and somehow found my way out of
that section. How long it took, I had no idea because my watch had inadvertently
reset while I tried to use its light to see signs, and sometimes the edges of
the trail. A mental note: Never
again, on a trail, at night, without a complete backup light! Never again!! Really!
I arrived at the end of the section of trail, and
followed the dark road past the cemetery. I saw no sign of my wife or our
van. Indeed, I could barely see the
cemetery itself. I continued on to Rock Point, the end of the forest trails for
the first hundred miles, and still saw no Marcia, and no van. I refueled from
our aid cache, one of several placed to help the crewless, or those somehow
separated from their crew. I continued on, along County Road 3364 (a virtual
jeep trail) toward State Route 3, hoping to find my wife, somewhere. I passed the point where I sighted the
“60s van” during the last 10 miles in 1999. “Where’s the damn van when I need
it”, I muttered to myself.
Why not, no one else around
to hear me…that I could see! Except for that big Cheshire Cat-like grin floating
in the trees! Yikes!! I do at least
know, probably, that this apparition(?) was not my good friend Del Ruckle, who
had spent the majority of the first day of the event providing aid to the
sodden, and especially the crewless! Del had left for home around 1:00 AM so
that he could work early Friday morning, prior to heading to a marathon in
Indiana on Saturday.
I arrived at State Route 3, and continued on, still with
no idea of the time of day, or the time of the run. I just pressed on, probably
at a harder pace than was wise, out of frustration and anger at my failure to
plan for every contingency. I finally spotted Marcia, coming toward me in the
van, around mile 82. It had been over 5 hours since I had seen her at the Bridle
Trail Camp (69.3 miles). This news did nothing to ease the frustration. I had a
sandwich, and some coffee, and went back to consuming the
miles.
With dawn, strange shapes began to appear. First, I caught that brief glimpse of a van (The Van?). It was too fleeting to even try and make
out the driver! Then, shapes would
appear, ahead, at mailboxes. “What will I say to him”, I would think, upon
“seeing” a person retrieving the morning paper (I thought). Then the shape would
dissolve, leaving nothing behind but the mailbox, and the tall grasses and crops
waving in the breeze beyond it. “ My, my, it may get very interesting
later on! ”, I thought, “I must get
a nap soon!”
I finished the first hundred miles, to no fanfare and no
onlookers other than Marcia, at 11:08 AM, on Friday. I poured a glass of the
“post-race” brew. I hit the shower. I had another small glass of bitter. I set
my watch alarm and rolled into my sleeping bag. The alarm was set for 55 minutes
later, and I dropped off into a short–lived coma after ten to fifteen minutes of
fitful squirming and groaning.
I awoke to my watch alarm and sat up quickly, wondering
how difficult it would be to get back in the groove. Marcia said,
“I think I heard some runners heading out a few
minutes ago, probably Regis and Jerry.”
“What!
How long ago?”
I rapidly dressed, and downed some water. I probably
chugged down some coffee, if any was within smelling range. By the time I was
ready to roll out of camp, it was already 2:00 PM,
But I had, in spite of my inability to clear my head,
kept my break about one hour shorter than in 1999.
On the way out of Mohican Wilderness, I encountered Ken
Wobbecke, the camp owner:
“Ryan tells me you are in third place, Robin.”
“What! I was leading when I arrived here. How long
ago did they leave?”
“I don’t know, that’s all he told me. But Ryan
said you will probably catch them.”
“I’m sure gonna try, Ken!”
I began the second half, with an attitude. I was
not happy with the time of the first half (too slow!). I was not happy with the length of my
break at the half (too long). I was not happy to have two runners ahead
of me (I thought!), although, as I considered this more, I realized it
made the game more interesting, to be thinking I had someone to try and
catch.
I tried to push it. When I met up again with Marcia, I began
to insist that she drive ahead and see how much lead “they” had. Ha Ha Ha, over 95 mile to go and I was
concerned about gaining back the lead. Then we saw the cars of Diana Shivers and
Regina Bartram, coming towards me.
Hmmmmm! They must be
checking out my position, so they can tell Jerry and Regis! About one mile further on, I saw
two runners coming towards me. Jerry and Regis! Ha Ha Ha, over 94 miles to go and
I was still stuck out there, all alone, with the lead. Now what do I do? Just keep on doing that Double MoE
thing! I rambled on along the one-lane gravel road to Brinkhaven and enjoyed the
rare sighting of two white-tailed deer swimming across the Mohican River. A
short time later, two runners approached. Joe and Fred were about two hours
behind Regis and Jerry. They looked a bit weary, but appeared to be in good
spirits. We spoke briefly then headed off in opposite
directions.
I ran slowly up the long, gradual grade to Turkey Ridge,
in the company of a ten inch tall mutt for the last mile. My children returned
just as I reached breezy Turkey
Ridge. They had brought me burritos and coffee, and I had a very relaxing
thirty-minute, or longer, break. I descended the mile long down hill feeling
much fortified, with my walkman on.
Thirty minutes after my meal, I was running to the sound
of an instrumental version of a tune called “Fire on the Mountain”, played by
The Grateful Dead with the Allman Brothers, when I saw that the sun appeared to
be perched upon the highest hill in sight. Interesting! I ran a little faster. I was in rhythm
with my environment, or so it seemed!
Good enough!
Mackenzie joined me through Rock Point. On the way, we
viewed a Double MoE tradition—“GO MOE” written in stones in the middle of the
road, by my son Logan. We arrived
at Rock Point, where I drank coffee brought to us by Don and Betty Baun, then I continued on alone through the
remnants of the stormy first day—mud
and washed out trail with more loose rocks than usual.
I continued to try and make up time, to try and get the
pace back on schedule with the previous year’s run. It wasn’t happening! I did
began to see evidence of Mark Carroll’s contributions to our aid caches. Somehow
we never met as he made rounds throughout the forest, but I did take advantage
of his generosity through the tough forest loops of the second hundred. Must
make a note to offer Mark free entry in 2001!
I arrived at Hickory Ridge,138 miles, and as I entered
the clearing I stood transfixed as I gazed at the sky. The stars! My God, even brighter than
last year! The Big Dipper, even
bigger, bolder, and brighter than that night (one month before, during a late
night training run) when the sight of it, with a meteorite passing “through” it
inspired the Double MoE 2000 shirt design. I continued on down the road from
Hickory Ridge, unable to take my eyes off the sky. Woooaaahhhh!
It happened again! A flash of light, bisecting the
BIGGGG Dipper, then gone. Did it really happen, I thought. Or was it another
sleep deprived, mileage-depraved illusion.
No, I think it really did happen! Probably. (Jerry Bartram later
confirmed that he had also seen this, wherever he was at the
time!)
It was nearly twelve hours later that I again came to
Hickory Ridge. My calves were giving me excruciating pain—memories of the 1992
Run Across Ohio. I rested, with my legs up, and tried to
correct possible deficiencies. I had lots of fluids, 2 Succeed caps (sodium,
potassium, and buffers), some ibuprofen, some Tylenol, coffee, a sandwich, a
banana. I endured the stares of a camouflage-clad hunter for a moment, until I
decided I didn’t give a damn (although, I thought at first, “what the hell are
you staring at me for? You’re the one dressed like a plant!”). I got up and
struggled to get moving again.
Then, wonder upon wonder, about two miles later, I was
running! Really running again! And I whipped through the Lyons Falls loop, a
rather gnarly and rock four miles, faster than I had the first day. It almost
felt like one of my time trails there, but was 25 minutes slower than my
best!
But I felt quite good, for having 180 miles on my
legs!
As I approached the end of the trails, I received
conflicting reports about Jerry and Regis’ location. One report had them about
ten miles behind, and another report said they were about 20 miles back. I
continued on, as best I could, as if they were about to catch
me.
I left Rock Point thinking I would be finished well
before midnight. I felt strong until I crossed State Route 3, with about seven
miles remaining. My son, Corey, joined me for the climb over the Judson Hills
Camp trail. After this trail, I would begin to see buildings where I had seen
none before. When I would shine my flashlight on them, they became tall,
straight trees illuminated “strangely” by the moon. I was beginning to crumble,
but I did not want to stop to rest. I JUST WANTED TO GET DONE!
SOON!
Not another illusory building, this one with a row of
ten jack o’lanterns on its porch!
Oh, it’s a real one. Four more miles to go. I staggered at times. I crested the last hill and began a
bone-jarring descent towards Wally Road. I saw strange lights below and actually
thought, for a moment, that Regis and Jerry were about to catch up with me,
coming in from the wrong direction.
I turned on to Wally Road, and the half mile to the turn
into the campground seemed SO long. Finally, I found the turn, marked by yellow
ribbons. I entered Mohican Wilderness, and began the last mile. Illusory
buildings now popped up constantly on both sides of the camp road. It was like
when the fireworks are almost over, and they hit you with everything that is
left in the arsenal. I made the last turn, with less than 200 yards to go. I
reached the yellow surveyor tape finish line and paused. I used the last of my
strength to rip it apart.
Whewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!
I had a glass of the microbrew and stumbled
around for a while before crashing. When I awoke,
around 8:30 AM, I found that Regis and Jerry had finished
(in 73 hours, 58 minutes) and gone to bed. I got up and showered, then made
coffee. Ryan came to work, and I
shared some tales from the run.
Much of that morning and afternoon are forgotten. Late in
the afternoon Keith and I drove out to
check on Joe’s progress. (Fred had dropped out with over 150 miles
completed.) We found Joe, accompanied by Don, coming off the trail at Judson
Hills. He looked much as you would expect one to look after 194 miles. He was
quite weary, but happy that he was nearing the end of his longest run. Joe would
finish in 83 hours 17 minutes, joyfully.
Some of us
celebrated with a glass or two from the growlers, then we drove to Loudonville
for a hot meal and one or two hours
of mindless, post-run chatter. It
was wonderful to complete the meal without having to head right out for more
miles. We said our farewells, and
headed back to our respective “realities”.
People often
ask, about these crazy long distance events, why…?
My new reply:
“…Go ask Alice…” !
Jerry
Bartram
Springfield, Ohio
Mid-Ohio Extreme
Endurance Runners
There were eight of us
crazy enough to attempt the Double Mohican this year. Several of us being so crazy that we are
back for our second year. Robin
Fry, Regis Shivers, Fred Davis, and I all were returning being joined by Mike
Dobies, Don Baun, Keith Bellardo, and Joe West. My main goal is finish! After last year’s failed attempt, I need
to prove to myself that it can be done.
Last year I made several mistakes and am trying to learn from them. Other mistakes are always possible, just
don’t keep making the same ones!
Hopefully, a better plan
and someone to run with will help.
Regis Shivers and I plan on staying together, if possible, this year and
“feeding off each other.” The game
plan is to cover 60 – 65 miles each day then stop and sleep, get up early enough
for breakfast and coffee, then back on the trail. I talked up our strategy on Wednesday
night to some of the other runners, hoping to get a couple of more people to
work together.
Torrential rain on Thursday washed away some of the team
work and caused several runners to pull the plug early. Mike Dobies, Keith Belluardo, and Don
Baun decided that they were done having fun and stopped. Runners that I had hoped would be with
us fell of the pace ( or did we pick it up). Don showed complete commitment to
successful ultra running by taking Keith back to race headquarters at Mohican
Wilderness Campground and then pacing Joe West through some rough spots and
running in with Joe on Sunday afternoon.
Total class act! Also a
class act is Joe Jurczyk who came out and ran with Joe West on Saturday and
showed him what to look for in difficult places to avoid getting lost,
again. Joe and Fred started out
together and unfortunately got off course for awhile. They pretty much stayed together through
the first 100 miles then Joe took a break while Fred pressed on. Fred eventually stopped around 125 miles
fearing shin splints, or worse.
Regis and I worked our plan very well and were fortunate
that we had individual, not group, rough spots! We slept the first night at
Pleasantville dam, second time through at about 65 miles. After some GREAT meals served us
throughout the day by our wives, Diana and Regina, we slept well and started out
fresh? On Friday morning.
Continuing our plan we ate well, hydrated well and never pushed the pace
on the second day making 100 miles in 34 hours 6 minutes. After a brief stop we started back out
on the second half of our (my) adventure.
I say my adventure because Regis was successful last year at the Double
MoE and, by his own admission, had not been running much this year. I am convinced that Regis ran this year
mostly to help me wipe out my DNF from last year. Another total class act! The second day ended with us at Rock
Point (124 miles) around midnight and feeling pretty good. We thought about continuing to the fire
tower but held to our game plan and stopped. Saturday was more of the same until we
got almost to Pleasantville dam the first time through. Things were going so well that I got
bored and kicked a root, just for excitement. Man, was that ever dumb! The rest of the day my left big toe only
got worse and I started thinking that I may not be able to finish. As we approached the Bridle staging area
(182 miles) we discussed stopping for some rest or pushing on to the
finish. I told Regis that, “I
really need to rest and prop my foot up, if only for a couple of hours.” He agreed and we stopped there around
11:30 PM Saturday, returning to the trail at 2:30 AM on Sunday and taking it in
to the finish!
Everyone needs to understand that there is no way
possible we could complete such an adventure without the selfless support of our
wives, families, and others who gave of their time and energy so that we, the
runners, could chase our dreams!
All the people who helped in numerous ways made the Double MoE even more
special to me and I thank you!
Oh, by the way Robin, I saw the T-shirt happen also! Way Too Cool! That might be a
tattoo!!
______________________________________________________________
The Double Moe 200 Mile Trail Run (Mohican) was a
success for a second year with two runners finishing for the 2nd
time, another doing it on the second try, and a first time
success.
66
hrs 29 minutes Robin Fry(Winner 1999 &
2000)
73
hrs 58 minutes Jerry Bartram (Started
1999)
Regis Shivers(1999 & 2000)
83
hrs 17 minutes Joe
West
Course record (still soft) 59:47, from
1999.