Massanutten

I was really looking forward to this past weekend. Regardless, several days, actually, beginning last Monday, I experienced some anxiety towards the race. It wasn't in regard to finishing, but about how long it would possibly take to cross the finish line. That may sound boisterous, but it's how I felt and planned to do whatever necessary ensuring self preservation trumped ego and provide enough willpower to finish what would be started the previous day.

As it would turn out, Zane Grey ended up being my only long run since February in the training ramp to Massanutten.  Definitely not ideal, considering this was to be my absolute goal for the Spring and early Summer.  My Western States (WS), if you will.  I, also, wanted to ensure I could get a qualifying race completed for the 2011 WS lottery and finally qualify for one of those races that one should be careful what they wish for--Hardrock.  To say the least, many things I have experienced so far this year leading up to this past weekend, on a personal and running basis, while being difficult at times, changed many of my perceptions and outlook on life, and on running.  Regardless, that is "life".  Each of us experience our own myopic set of trials and tribulations.  It's our response, however, that matters most.

The weather appeared to be shaping up to be just about perfect--upper 70's to low 80's and the 50's at night. Thankfully, I focused the previous few weeks running only in the warmest part of the day to minimize the effects of the heat on race day. Race morning was in the mid 60's, which was warmer than expected, but it wasn't anything concerning.  During the race, there were many commenting on the heat and humidity, but I never seemed to mind as long as I knew I could get ice in my bottles at the aid stations.

People at the start kept asking what my time goal was and I kept jokingly responding to "keep in front of Olga". But, I knew it was wishful thinking and, while I had an 28-hour pace chart taped to my bottle, I just wanted to cross the finish line and would let the day and how I felt determine the outcome.  It seemed like an honest way to approach the race. And, since Olga would be running, as well, there would be no crew or pacer to assist me along the way.

The early miles passed by quickly and the race definitely lived up to it's reputation. The rocks, oh...the rocks!  Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected it to make the Zane Grey trail look tame, but it did.  If I would have known this before the race, I may have seriously considered forgoing the run. And, even without this knowledge, there were many times throughout the previous week when I didn't want to run on Saturday, mainly, due to my own doubts and insecurity. They would have been amplified greatly if I would have truly understood the indescribable roughness of the course. Yet, during those times when the course used buffed out gravel roads, I found myself wishing, instead, for the Massanutten trails.

The course crossed the ridge lines from the lower valleys 12+ times. And, there are times we were, literally, running for a few miles at a time on the top of heavily wooded ridges with scenic vistas to both the left and right. It is during these times when I'm reminded why I run in these races. I was pleased with how the day unfolded, especially the fact I left mile 63 aid station before dark and 1 hour 15 minutes ahead of my pace chart. But, that would, eventually, change and I would eventually give back those gains before the end of the race.

There were many mental low spots for me, the first one when Olga and I left together out of the mile 54 aid station (Habron Gap). She asked me to "keep up" as we immediately entered one of the biggest climbs on the course, but I told her to go ahead as I was certain on a good day I would struggle to keep up with her on what she does best--billie goat! I wanted her to do her best and not have me slowing her down. She disappeared in mere moments.

The night brought an added challenge to the already rough terrain. I run on plenty of rocky terrain at night in training, but with 65+ miles on my legs, it was a monumental task to expect much running with rocks covered in ankle-deep fallen leaves. I would have to optimize my time well by running at every opportunity when the trail mellowed out enough. Thankfully, I still had the physical ability to run.

There was a point during the race that I seriously considered dropping at the last aid station, which is 6.3 miles from the finish. These thoughts occurred during the last big climb before mile 90.  I continued to tell myself how insane it was to be voluntarily putting the human body through such an outlandish physical and mental experience.  But, there was one primary thought which came to my mind almost immediately. What kind of example would I be setting not only for my Son, but Stepson (Olga's son), if I just quit?  My reasons to stop were obviously valid, but I wasn't injured or in any kind of physical danger.  I was just tired and sore--the things one should expect in this instance.  Plus, in the back of my mind, I needed to finish this race. Finish what I  started. Bring it to completion. Make a full circle, in a sense literally and figuratively.  So, I continue moving forward as best I could...

After leaving the last aid station (Gap 2) in the light of a new day and having been on my feet for the longest time ever at that point, I made my way to the last climb. I had already done this section at night and knew it became steep on the single-track, but I was prepared and looking forward to getting to the top. I put my head down and focused on the trail and just before I reached the top, I stole a glance and knew I was almost done with all the climbing in the race.  The climbs humbled me. No, they aren't the climbs experienced in races out West, but they are legitimate and difficult in their own right. And, when I finally reached the small piece of flat trail at the top of the wooded ridge, I made a weak shout, "yes!".  Immediately, I was overwhelmed with emotion and stood with my body and head leaning on a tall trail sign and released all that the trails had taken out of me for the previous 97 miles.  It had been, by far, the most difficult thing physically I have ever endured. But, it wasn't over.  The immediate ensuing downhill was so rock strewn and full of leaves, I had to walk most of it. Unless I put my feet down in the most perfect spot, the discomfort was almost unbearable. It was at this point, and for the first time during the race, that I longed for that buffed out gravel road. Eventually, I reached the road and ran for the final 3.6 miles and 35 minutes to the finish.

I crossed the finish line with a smile on my face and genuinely the happiest I have ever been upon completing a race.  It would have been great to have a photo crossing the finish line just to see the smile, but there is no regret because that smile is imprinted on my heart. But, I cannot finish this post without acknowledging how tirelessly supportive my dear Zhenah, Olya, has been this year. Her training guidance, wisdom, patience, and a firm belief that I could finish Massanutten are what I cherish the most. Without getting to share the experience with her my finish wouldn't have been complete.

(Me, three minutes after finishing)