May, 1999--Once there was a squirrel who lived in a cherry tree. One early
winter's day he looked out from his home in one of the tree's crevices and
was surprised to see a snail crawling ever so slowly up the tree. The squirrel
asked the snail what he thought he was doing, where he was going. The reply
given was that the little snail was on his way to eat cherries. "The
branches are bare!" said the squirrel, "There
are no cherries on this tree this time of year!" "Yes I know"
replied the snail, "but there will be by the time I arrive."
Yes I know, quite the simple and somewhat innocent story, one told us at the
pre-race briefing by the race director of the Massanutten Mountain Trail 100
Mile Run last Friday. He was trying to tell us something important: Persevere,
and if you are tenacious, mentally tough (or maybe just mental) and
determined to finish this course, you will-but don't expect a fast time. But
you will be rewarded for your effort and we will be here when you finish.
I found myself in Front Royal, Virginia on the weekend of May 8-9th listening
to this man describe what 101 runners were planning on doing over the next
day(s). I hadn't really "talked" this race up much prior to the
event. I'd confided in a few people but was very apprehensive about what I was
getting myself into. Last July I'd finished the Vermont 100 Mile Trail Run,
one deemed to be the gentlest of the east coast trail ultras and wanted to
"taste" something different. My recent long races had gone well and
thought "why not"?
The MMT 100 is called a challenging trail ultra over a slow, rocky course. The
race information received by the entrant describes short but rugged mountain
climbs and descents from start to finish. Rain can and did complicate the
course, making some trails muddy. At other times they became roaring streams.
There were numerous water crossings which, believe it or not, can feel quite
nice on the feet after 90 miles and 30+ hours. 82 miles of this course are on
trails, with the rest consisting of stretches of country road; 14 dirt and 4
asphalt.
The MMT 100 starts just below the Massanutten Mountain's northeastern ridge,
which overlooks the south fork of the Shenandoah River. Massanutten is an
Indian word but there's debate as to it's meaning. Some say it means
"Indian basket" and was first applied to the basket shaped
Shenandoah Valley. Another opinion is that it means "old field" or
"potato ground" and referred to the field between the mountain and
river. George Washington surveyed the region for Lord Fairfax in 1748 and the
national forest in which we ran is named for our first president. The forest
covers more than a million acres and contains more than 900 miles of hiking
trails. Over 40 tree species grow there as well as over 2,000 species of
shrubs and herbaceous plants. The Shenandoah could be seen from the ridge line
off and on throughout the race.
The run begins and ends at race headquarters positioned at the Skyline Race
Resort, sort of a "dude ranch" where vacationers can camp or rent
cabins, hike or ride horses. My friend Dave Bailey from Irondequoit, who acted
as my crew and without whose help the run in the mountains would have been
near impossible, and I stayed at the Ranch the day before and after the race.
I'd been warned about these mountains but the descriptions I'd received did
not do them justice. I doubt that I can adequately describe the terrain.
Totally foreign to me this landscape appeared: I'd might as well been running
on Mars. The rocks, ledges and boulders were an ever constant presence. The
footing is really what's challenging here. A little of it is good, some is OK,
but most of it is lousy-rocky and uneven-with the majority of the rocky and
uneven footing coming in the later parts of the race. The MMT 100 is rocky
from start to finish. The members of the Virginia Happy Trails Running Club
who put on this challenge admit that.
Massanutten Mountain is an old mountain, not an upstart. The ascents are
short. They are tough. They were promised to take their toll and did. I came
home with my first blackened toenails and many blisters on the bottoms of my
feet, the end result, I think, of the rocky descents. The elevation gain is
about 16,700 feet with an equal amount of loss. Seven of the ascents and
descents range between 1,000 and 1,500 feet. I'm certain of this because I
wore an altimeter watch for the fun of it and for the information it provided.
And it helped knowing that on some of the difficult climbs when I was stressed
that the top of the mountain was somewhere close even if I couldn't yet see it.
Here's another description given by the race directors, "while we say the
MMT 100 is tough, a better description is s-l-o-w, r-o-c-k-y and r-u-g-g-e-d,
but not impossible to finish." Indeed, 59% of those starting did finish
in the 36 hours allowed. And I kept this piece of sage advice in mind,
"the toughest part of a 100 mile race is its length."
Pacers were permitted anytime after 6 p.m. but I ran alone. I carried two
bottles of liquid and depended on the 16 aid stations and my crew to provide
the needed assistance. There weren't many rules or requirements for entry into
this event. The biggest were prohibitions on littering (on the 82 miles of
trail I did not see a single piece of litter) and entrants were expected to
behave responsibly. There was no medical pre-race check-in, no medical checks
nor weight checks during the race, runners were trusted to be the best judge
of their capabilities. This bit of pre-race information "charmed"
me: "We expect runners to be prepared for situations that could be
hazardous to your health"- OK thought I, seems reasonable.
"Dehydration, bonking, falls, heat, hypothermia, foot problems and
insects are among the problems you may encounter. You may come across bears,
rattlesnakes (one four footer was reported to have been removed from the trail
on Saturday afternoon), turkeys, grouse, deer and other forest residents."
Fascinating.
The race started at 5 p.m. in an open field after a blessing was read by the
race director. We then ambled to an adjoining asphalt road for 2.4 miles to
the Massanutten Mountain East Trailhead and, for me, a total of 34 hours and
58 minutes of adventure.
I ran into that first dawn wearing shorts, a polypro long sleeved top and a
hat and carrying little "mag" flashlight. More serious lighting
would be required that night. At dawn we were on our first ascent and treated
to spectacular views of the valley from 2000 feet up. By 7 a.m. the world
turned almost black, with thunderheads sweeping in fast. The storm, with
thunder and lightning, sounded like a freight train as it roared towards us
and the skies opened up. We ran in a downpour for about 30 minutes and trails
became temporary quagmires. At this point there was no sense in worrying about
keeping one's feet dry and the water crossings we came to proved less
intimating because we just didn't care anymore.
The storm moved off as quickly as it came and the rest of the day was sunny
and quite pleasant. The company was good, most people were relaxed and, I
think, resigned to the fact that they were going to be out there a long time.
The course was never boring. The aid stations well stocked with sandwiches,
potatoes, fruit, liquids, soups and candies and very cheerful people. At 30
miles and the top of Kennedy Peak at 2500 feet we were required to climb an
observation tower where we would find a quote written somewhere. The message
was promised to provide us with what was needed to continue and the race
director told us he might quiz each runner about that message as proof of
their being there. I won't relate what the quote was, but suffice it to say
that it reminded me to have a sense of humor and that mere words will not get
you through this race no matter what they were.
The day went well with temperatures reaching into the 70's with cool breezes
at the top of the ridge. The forest abounded with wildflowers, some that I
could identify were the azaleas, pink and white, delicate and very pretty. As
night fell I treated myself to a change in socks and shoes and a toothbrush,
put my headlamp on and shuffled off into the night serenaded by the calls of
whippoorwills. It was 50 degrees or so under clear skies. The waning moon did
not rise until 3 a.m. and was appreciated for its ambiance, not the light it
provided. Long stretches were spent alone, then another runner would come up
on me or me on them and we'd run together perhaps chatting, or perhaps just
sharing the silent experience. As I'd previously found, when the second dawn
comes my body wakens and less effort is required to continue forward. I
believe it when told that this is the best marked trail run in the east:
Yellow ribbons marked the trail as did glow-sticks in the trees every 1/4 mile
or so. There was only one instance when I became convinced that I was off
trail. That was at 5 a.m. the second morning and I back tracked a few minutes
before meeting a couple of runners who knew the course and took me back with
them. As it turned out I was never off the trail, just thought that I was.
I can't say enough about the impact my crew had on my success. Dave is not a
runner but an experienced hiker and understands the importance of fueling and
planning for the unexpected. As I came into the stations he was allowed at I'd
give him my empty bottles and he'd give me two others full of iced cold drink.
He'd ask what else I needed, most times that was nothing, but I did change
socks twice and shoes once. I'd eat at the station, drink some, carry what
food I could out of the station with me, then move down the trail. He would
come with me while I finished eating, encouraging me and taking my litter
back with him to the trash. We plan for what I'd want the next time I saw him,
project what time that would be and part ways. There were times when he made
sure I didn't do something stupid, convinced me to take more food or drink.
At 11 a.m. on Sunday, 30 hours into this thing, I realized that I'd left my
hat 1/4 of a mile up the trail at the last aid station. I was not prepared to
go back for it but it was much hotter the second day than first and Dave knew
(me too) that I needed it. He ran back for it as I continued to walk towards
the finish 17 miles away. He caught up with me with my hat and may have saved
the day. The sun was intense and I don't have the natural protection atop my
head that I used too. I think it was an interesting experience for him also,
but a difficult job. He stayed awake for most of the time I was on my feet.
After 95.5 miles I found the last aid station and knew that the finish line
awaited over the hill, after the last 1000 foot ascent and descent. Dave met
me at about 991/2 miles describing the finish and telling me that I could
break 35 hours if I picked it up a bit. A true friend indeed!
I finished with over an hour to spare, the 54th finisher out of 60. All
runners reaching the Visitor Center Aid Station at 48 miles but not completing
the full course received a special award recognizing their commendable
perseverance. This is something of a "tongue in cheek"
acknowledgment. Those getting to this point took home a mounted piece of the
mountain and had their names listed as Visitors to the MMT 100. The only way
to have your name removed from this list is to return and complete the entire
course another year. With such an award the non-finisher is motivated to
return. This "snail" continued until the end where he was rewarded
as promised days before with the acclamation and warm embrace of the crowd
and a finely detailed, machined pewter belt buckle that will be engraved for
him. That and a shirt with the course map drawn on it's back and the legend
"MMT 100 - the toughest 100 mile trail run east of the Rockies."
Why? I really don't know and therein "lies the rub". All you runners
I think realize that the difficult part of this running thing we do is that we
can stop the discomfort anytime we want but refuse to do so. Just stop the
race. Quit. But we don't. I am continually in awe of these distances and the
people who cover them on foot. Whether it's running 6.2 miles on the anaerobic
edge or 26.2 miles nearing exhaustion or distances longer with different
altered states, I'm always amazed and humbled. 100.5 miles on the MMT will do
that. Here's another thing I heard this weekend that I liked a lot,
"Think that you can, or think that you can't and you will be right both
times." In closing how about a real quote from literature?
"He knew that he felt an odd, joyous, light-hearted self confidence.
He knew that these were the right steps down the trail he had glimpsed."
- -from Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
peace, John
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