West Virginia Mountain Trail Runners
A Mountain State of Running
The 2017 Highlands Sky 40 Mile Trail Run: A Race Report
Author: Krista Rogers.
There wasn’t a bit of chill in the morning air as I zipped shut the tent of my husband and four-year-old daughter at the Canaan Valley Resort campground. I walked into the darkness, headed to the resort’s lodge to board the bus to the starting line of the Highlands Sky Trail Run. If it was warm in the valley at 4:00 a.m., would it be cooler at 4,000 feet at midday? This was one of many questions I brought with me to my first Highlands Sky.
I was especially concerned about the climbs I would face. On the Highlands Sky website, the elevation profile looks like a thrilling roller coaster ride minus the loops. The line for miles 2 to 5.5 is nearly vertical. A disclaimer reads: “Steepness is exaggerated, it’s really not as bad as it looks.” This did not reassure me. Were my weekly runs up northern Virginia’s Little North Mountain (emphasis on “Little”) enough? Would the West Virginia hills do me in early?
Then there was the nagging question I always have when I’m among ultrarunners: What am I doing!? Every mile of running means eight to twelve minutes (or more) not keeping up the house or garden, working my job, or enjoying quality time with my family. In the month before the Highlands Sky, I had wanted to run sixty miles per week – and I did. Am I a bad mom? A bad wife? A bad employee? What do I get out of running such long distances that justifies the time, effort, and pain?
We boarded the bus at 5:00. At 5:51 the sun rose at the starting line. At 6:00 we were off. The first several miles felt easy. We left the road after two and a half miles, crossed a field of tall grass, and entered the woods. The narrow trail, flanked by stinging nettles, funneled us into a single file moving gradually upward. Two more miles went by. Runners chatted. Suddenly, the trail switched back and steepened. The distance between runners lengthened. Up, up, up we went. I searched for blue sky through the trees. Another half mile passed. There it was! In a few minutes we were at the top.
At about six miles into the race we were at four thousand five hundred feet, and the beauty of the forest was mesmerizing: the pink and white mountain laurel blossoms, the soft feel and rich smell of pine needles, the curious rocks, the intricate mosses, the shallow yet dark pools of water here and there. The silence broken only by the song of a single hermit thrush or chickadee. The narrow green tunnels of the trails. I relished the feeling of being up high. The hill really hadn’t been that bad!
I had read on the website that miles seven to eleven were quite technical, and they were. The trail was an actual stream bed, sometimes flowing, for stretches. Other times, roots or rock fields made the going slow. I was fascinated by everything around me on the high plain, but I didn’t linger. I went on as fast as I safely could, and came to Aid Station #2 with forty-five minutes to spare until the 9:15 cut-off.
Then came the steep descent of miles eleven to twelve and a half, and the subsequent railroad grade. The upland pines gave way to a typical hardwood forest. Here the going wasn’t any less technical than the previous miles. Actually, it was worse. A handful of runners passed me as I picked my way down a slick stream bed. The railroad grade, on which I had hoped to make good time, was muddy despite dry weather conditions. We crossed springs and streams, hopscotched over rocks, and wound around fallen trees. Grass and mud masked the trail, and between markers I got the sensation that I had lost it a few times. Eventually the course took us back up to four thousand feet and drier trails, but the roughness underfoot was wearing on me. I longed for aid station #4 (mile 19.7) and the forest road.
When I finally broke out of the woods and came to AS#4, my joys were three: the forest road, my four-year-old daughter, and my husband! All were a way to reset and refocus, and the effect was marvelous. From here I looked forward to an easier course so that I could reel in some of the runners who had passed me earlier. There were just two problems: my daughter’s reluctance to part with me tugged at my heartstrings, and the long string of runners ahead of me on the straight-as-an-arrow FR 75 would not be reeled in. My legs were sluggish. I barely kept pace. My body felt like I was still on the trail.
By midday it was hot and the road offered little shade, so the clouds that blocked the sun now and then were a blessing. A cool breeze sometimes met us in the dips in the road. Slowly I began to gain on other runners, especially on the hills. I ran past Aid Station #5 (mile 22.7), and recognized the unmistakable long braids of Race Director Dan’s son, Willie, as he turned to leave the table. Willie had given me helpful advice at the pre-race dinner, where my daughter had complimented him on his hair: “Two braids like Anna!” He had also brewed the beer. I decided to stay with him as long as I could.
The vegetation grew sparse on this, the Road Across the Sky, and a broad shrub and heath barren came into view: the Dolly Sods. Willie, a few other runners, and I were approaching Aid Station #6 (mile 27). There the course left the road and crossed the barren on a trail to the horizon. It looked appealing from a distance. As I turned to leave the aid station tent, my lower back and my right knee twinged. I hobbled on, wondering where the pain had come from and hoping it would go away.
The trail greeted our small group almost immediately with a wide mug bog, then rocks to hop. We next climbed an unexpectedly steep hill. (We’re already at the top of the world, I thought. How can we go up?) Beyond that, the plain looked deceptively fast, but the low spruce hid rocks and bogs that slowed me considerably. The heat of the afternoon made the soupy black ooze as warm as bathwater. Runners began to pass me once again.
It occurred to me that my knee had been bothering me for weeks, and I hadn’t really noticed. Now there was no denying it. The trail had aggravated whatever it was, and my knee felt like it would buckle at the first awkward step. From that realization on I walked over rough spots. Willie ran ahead, out of view. I walked to the horizon, over a low hill, and across more plain. Mud. Rocks. Willie, far ahead. Horizon. More plain. Hikers smiling sympathetically. Runners passing me. Mud. Rocks. Horizon. No more Willie. Trails converged, and then split off. I had no idea where or how far along I was; I had inadvertently left my watch at AS#4. I attempted to run and found I could not.
Next came the boulders, into which the trail simply vanished. Around each corner, it was a guessing game where to go next. I came to a runner just standing there, too overwhelmed to look for the next fluttering orange tape. My mood was black as the mud puddles. Finally I saw the white tent of Aid Station #7, an oasis that placed me back on the course. It felt like a finish line; I ignored the fact that I was only at mile 32.9.
“There’s my friend!” said volunteer Clara (Dan Lehmann’s oldest daughter and Willie’s sister) inside AS#7, also known as the “Lehmann Aid Station.” I smiled. I had met Clara, too, the previous evening. We had chatted on the playground outside the Canaan Valley Resort lodge when my daughter joined in play with Clara’s three-year-old twin girls. There Clara and her brother Lars had given me a volunteer’s perspective of the race, reassuring me about things like cut-off times. Willie had joined us at the pre-race dinner and shared a runner’s advice. And after dinner there was a wild game of duck-duck-goose with the kids. I felt like a new in-law at a family reunion, trying to figure out how I was related to all these wonderful people. Ah – that was it: ultrarunning!
“What can I get you?” Clara asked me. “Two ibuprofen and a salt tablet,” I replied. “My back hurts.” I forgot to mention my leg. Again Clara reassured me. There she was, in the tundra on the edge of the world, taking care of me instead of her girls. There I was, running instead of taking care of my daughter. I was grateful – to all of them. I left the tent and headed out along the rim of the valley. Slowly my knee loosened, or the medication took effect.
I was unsure of the trail ahead; I had studied the early hills on a map, but I had not looked at this part of the course much. It was supposed to be the “easy part”: a quick climb up a ski slope and the “butt slide” downhill to the finish. I joined a small group of runners and we made our way past the last few boulders, down a gradual hill, across an old dirt road, and through some brush to a ski slope. There the fluttering orange tape beckoned from high up the slope. Heat emanated from the hard-packed earth baking in the sun. I cursed.
The group walked ahead, and I climbed after them, breathless, to where the hill flattened a half-mile later. There the course cut into the woods on what was barely a trail, and continued upward. The other runners were out of sight ahead of me, but I could hear their voices – first to the right and above me, then to the left and below me. Suddenly we were going nearly straight down a steep, wooded hill. I relied on orange tape and rotted wooden mountain-bike jumps to show me the trail. The voices faded and, once again, I felt lost between markers. How could a trail possibly go here? I ducked under branches and trudged downhill through fallen leaves. This went on for over a mile.
The gravel road I finally reached brought me back, in more ways than one; I found I could run again. I decided not to stop at Aid Station #8 (mile 36.9) to avoid a stiff knee. A racing mother of four (I soon learned) caught up with me and pulled me along as we discussed the pros and cons of jogging strollers. “I did all of my weekday runs with a stroller,” she told me. I was very impressed. “You go ahead,” I told her. “No, I’ll stay with you,” was her reply. We ran together for more than a mile, until my knee pain got the most of me and I decided to walk again.
A mile later, at Buena Church, the course turned onto a roadside trail hidden by shin-high grass. The wide valley grew familiar, but it was another mile before I came to a site I recognized: the entrance to Canaan Valley Resort across Route 32. I passed the resort’s big blue sign and found myself on the road I had walked to get to the bus that morning. Just ahead of me was a runner whom I had passed several times on the course. He was walking. I ran to catch him. Only a mile and change to go!
We turned onto a newly graded dirt road and came to yellow “do not cross” tape where the grading ended. Ahead and to the left were dirt piles and tree stumps. To the right were the resort’s trails, marked in orange. I turned right. It was the wrong choice; I had failed to see orange tape fluttering from a tree on the left where a makeshift trail ducked behind a dirt pile. After twenty minutes in the woods within earshot of the finish line, I came back to the same spot and found the orange course marking leading away.
Minutes later I came down the paved sidewalk to the finish line, and my daughter lunged toward me. My heart leaped. I grinned and hoisted her into my arms. “NO!” she yelled and wiggled furiously. She had wanted to run across the line with me. I put her down, and we crossed holding hands. My husband looked on and cheered. I hadn’t even looked at my time. Suddenly it didn’t matter. The race was over, and motherhood tugged at my arm. “Come on!” my daughter said, pulling me toward the finish-line food under the pavilion. “Can you get me a cookie?”
Final thoughts: The forty plus miles of the Highlands Sky Trail Run greet a runner with beauty in abundance, as well as the camaraderie of ultrarunners and outdoorsmen – and especially that of Dan Lehmann, his family, and his friends. I brought many questions with me to the Highlands Sky. Some were the questions of a nervous runner, and some where the questions of a mother. The trail answered most of them, as always: its beauty restored me while its ruggedness brought forth the effort and perseverance in me that I needed to finish. I had it in me after all! The Lehmann Family took care of the rest of my questions. Thank you, Dan, Adam, Willie, Clara, Lars, and families, for restoring me, too, with your hospitality and the example you set for runners, parents, and people in general. Thank you for a great day and a great race.
Tammy’s Race Report
FROZEN SASQUATCH – January 17,2017
KANAWHA STATE FOREST, CHARLESTON, WV
Author: Tammy McGaughey.
With the back of my Yukon packed with 4, yes FOUR, duffle bags, I headed south to the hills of West Virginia Friday afternoon for my first ever winter event. With the predicted frigid temps, I wasn’t sure what I’d need, so I erred on the side of ‘pack everything’. I know, you guys are rolling your eyes…grins.
What a beautiful drive…all the trees flocked with the fresh snow. I had four hours (oh my) to enjoy it. Yes, quite a drive, but easy traveling Route 79 nearly the entire way.
About 80 miles out of Charleston, I pass a familiar vehicle…Ryan’s Prius. From there, we caravanned together to Roberts Running Shop for packet pick-up, where we meet up also with Denise & Jim. Cute little running shop where we were given our bibs and REALLY nice race shirts…Patagonia Epilene long-sleeves.
Next stop…the Hampton Inn, Southridge…very nice accommodations. Ryan and I meet up to study the course maps and description for our journeys the next day and then grab a bite to eat at Panera. I turned in early, sleeping soundly for the first 3 hours, then it was my normal pre-race night routine of waking every hour.
Race day…I rose (easily) at 5:00. Temps are 14 with a wind chill of 8…holy crud. So on go the layers…3 shirts, heavy polartec winter pants, 2 prs of socks. Later, I’ll add a down vest, buff and toasty beanie, and 2 prs of gloves. After a quick bite of breakfast at the hotel (mmmmm, oatmeal and fresh fruit), off to Kanawha State Forest, just 20 minutes away.
At race check-in, I chatted with Maryann Yarborough, native of the area, to get her opinion of trail conditions, and to catch up with her trail ventures. Then with more anxious prep, I decided to strap on the Yaktrax and gators. Ryan and I toed the line with minutes to go, looking for our northern comrades, to no avail. Off we go…1/4 mile on road to the trail…up a nicely sustained hill. This 50K course is a 15.5 mile loop that is run twice. And this first hill was a wake up call. I was with a group of about 10 runners who didn’t say a word…quietest group of runners I had ever heard, or rather, not heard. Man, they’re serious or maybe just trying to truck it up the hill, as I was.
We made it to the top then enjoyed some nice running. In fact this entire course was very runnable. And quiet!…wow, so beautifully remote…no traffic, no gas wells, no industry…just peaceful, glorious serenity.
Beautiful stretches of single track trail … Not very technical … and acres and acres of gorgeous forest. 
The first loop journey was met with very cold temps and some light snow that coated my lashes with tiny ice crystals. I encountered other runners with icing problems too…icicles hanging from beanies, mustaches and beards. It was hilarious. My gels had to be chewed like gum. Stinger waffles had to be snapped into pieces before thawing them inside my mouth. My choice of gear worked just fine, except believe it or not, I was a tad bit warm with the vest on the ascents and I really didn’t need the gators. Snow was only 2” deep and thanks to the runners ahead of me, the trails were tramped down nicely. Still VERY glad I had the Yaktrax, especially on the fire and park roads. It’s nice that we can access our vehicles at the end of the first loop … i’ll regroup there.
We passed through 3 wonderful aid stations on the loop at miles 5.1, 8.5 and 12, a couple with fires…enticing, wonderful fires. I tried not to linger, as tempting as it was. Everything was frozen at the aid stations…can honestly say that I’ve never slurped a ginger ale slushy, or chewed rock-solid oranges…different, but good! Now, if we can just figure out a way to get that kind of treat during those hot summer events!
There were some challenging valleys to climb,
creeks included …
… and a really neat rock outcrop…
The runner above was so sweet and offered to take my pic … evidence that I really was there …
The trickiest feat was keeping my water bottles from freezing. Once the volunteers unfroze them with warm water, I found that keeping them tucked inside my vest prevented further freeze-up. The aid stations were nicely placed at miles 5.1, 8.5, and 12. Volunteers were spectacular, meeting every need. We were even greeted by Sasquatch himself before one of the stations…so fun!
The last steep descent before the halfway point was just that…steepest descent on the loop with switchbacks and more rocks than the rest of the course, but still not terrible. I found it fun bounding down the mountain…to my truck. First thing to go…the gators. I decided to keep the vest…my new-found ‘bottle insulator’.
Loop 2…here’s that first hill again…in my opinion, the most difficult hill of the loop. I didn’t have my 10 silent runners with me this time…just the quiet forest and me.
The sun made an appearance on this second time around … highlighting the nice fire roads we enjoyed as a respite from the hills … some creek crossings …
… cool icicle stalactites …
What a place … breathtaking …
I ran the 2nd loop virtually solo…and I loved it. Time to reflect, dream, and be thankful that I can participate in great events like this.
For some reason, my back was really stiff during the run…stopped many times to lengthen and stretch. Hammies and hips on the 2nd loop were feeling the miles too. BUT, the serenity of this slice of heaven camouflaged the discomforts. 
The cold had taken its toll on my Garmin…battery was dying….darn, if I can just coax it along a few more miles.
Leaving the aid station at mile 27ish, I once again found the final burst of energy as I always do at the finish of a race. Dang, Garmin called it quits at mile 30.03. I continued barreling down that mountain to the finish line at the parking lot, to be greeted by RD Mike Dolan (really cool guy), who handed me the neatest finisher’s medal, and a hand-thrown clay Sasquatch cup for 1st masters female! What a unique award. Earlier that morning, Mike informed us that the course ran just a little short. So judging from where my Garmin died, I’d say the course was 30.5 miles total.
As mentioned earlier, the runners garb was really sweet…
Beautiful course … I highly recommend it, even with the 4-hour drive to get there. I had the pleasure of chatting with a few other runners at the finish about their journeys, and also giving GRT plugs and inquiring about other events. Also, there were really great goodies at the end … bbq pork, soup, tea, coffee, etc. etc. As always, I met the coolest folks throughout my adventure.
The longer I sat, the colder I got. So I said my goodbyes and drove back to the hotel, where I booked the room for a later check-out. Wow, so glad I did. Even though it was the most expensive shower I ever took (LOL), it was worth every cent!! I know I stood in there for 20 minutes, slowly bringing the bones back to life.
Now for my 4-hour trip back to Chicora, PA. I stocked my console with water, a Pepsi and Belvita crackers and took off. At the PA line, I decided to stop, stretch out the legs, and hit the restroom. A two-hour stint of driving was not the best idea…yah, talk about rusty lock-up. The trip into that restroom was slow and calculated, eliciting curious looks from other travelers. Then back on the road for another 2 hours…to my driveway, my glorious driveway…it was a great 2 days, but it also was soooooo good to be home.
It was 9:00 p.m. You’d think after rising at 5:00 a.m., running 30+ miles, and driving 280-some miles, that I would be exhausted. Not so much. So I did my usual maintenance…drinking tart cherry juice, stretching and rolling (a tad bit painful, but good), and enjoying a cup of turmeric tea. Oh yes, took a preventive Advil, too…grins. Finally at 12:30, I drifted off.
Life was good to me…safe travels, a pristine run in the WV hills, spending time with great folks…yes, LIFE IS TRULY GOOD.
Author: Tammy McGaughey
Chicora, PA
Frozen Sasquatch 2017 Report
Author: Mike Bowen.
Arriving only 20 minutes early to KSF in icy, 14 degree conditions, my buddy Chris and I weren’t sure how the actual race would unfold. I decided to try and start out easy and see how I felt. After nearly busting my rear in the parking lot, I was glad to see the main road was slightly drier as we set off toward the big climb up to the ridge. Towards the top, I realized I was in 3rd and bridged up to Ian, running and chatting for about a mile. We laughed at how talented Jacob is, who was already long gone(this kid is as talented as they come, and his cross training should really separate him from his peers).Anyway, I got a short gap on Ian, only to have he and Brandon(I think) pass me on the first descent to the aid station. We were then passed on the next climb by Adam(I think), who was flying considering he was doing the 50K. I didn’t realize that at the time though. We commented on the fact that sasquatch wasn’t in his usual location. On the next descent to the campground, they really put it to me opening up about a 30 second gap. I was starting to realize how slow I was on the drops trying to stay upright(Ian later showed me the custom spike job he had prepared for the race- I was envious…)It was starting to snow pretty hard at this point and I was stomach cramping a bit when I noticed sasquatch up ahead by a firepit. I commented on his lack of toughness and he grunted something about staying warm. Sure couldn’t blame him on this day. I was contemplating waiting for Chris to catch up to me and just run the rest of the way with him. Bob L then caught up and mentioned that he hadn’t seen anyone behind him in a while. I stopped at “the M and M aid station”, fueled up a bit and the cramps subsided as I headed up Johnson. I caught back up the Bob and Ian, again realizing a trend was taking shape- catch runners on the climbs and then lose them on the drops. I’ll blame it on old age and tired knees-though some of these guys just absolutely crush it on the downhills. At about mile 13 I hit a bit of a wall and had to really rally my tired legs, beat up feet, freezing fingers and numb face to keep it together. I was basically alone again as they had dropped me once again on middle ridge. Approaching Teaberry I got a bit of a second wind knowing the end was near and actually thought a sub 2:20 was possible, only to realize the final descend was icy, slick and treacherous, and that getting down in one piece was the wise choice. I had to laugh as I finally got to the ice covered parking lot, which was a fitting symbol of a very tough day of trail running. The warm food and drinks were particularly pleasing this year and a big thanks to the Dolins and all the volunteers for all of the hard work that goes into these races. At some point in these races, I often find myself questioning my sanity, when I could be back in a warm bed, but then after I thaw out I start looking forward to next one.
WV Trilogy Race Report – Tasha Adkins Holland
Race report for the West Virginia Trilogy 50k
The West Virginia Trilogy is a staged race held over three days in the mountains of the highest point in West Virginia. There is a 50k Friday, a 50m Saturday, and a half on Sunday. Dan Lehmann and Adam Casseday are the race directors. Let me be the first to say that they know how to put on a race!
I discovered the Trilogy last year. In fact, it was my second trail race experience and my first 50m attempt. It was also my first time camping alone (and it had been 10 years since I had been in a tent). The first hour there I discovered two things:
1. I had come home
2. I needed to get tougher
The ultra trail running community was where I was meant to be. Camping, woods, rain, mud, starry nights… I loved it all! More importantly, the people could not be beat.
You get home cooked meals with your registration and dessert always follows a healthy dinner. Afterwards, you are responsible for cleaning your own dishes. I LOVE this entire process! The RD’s have created an amazing community where we all eat, clean up, camp, and run together for the weekend.
I registered for the 50m this year, to get redemption from last year’s DNF (pulled a muscle from a fall). Due to my daughter’s homecoming, I was forced to switch to the 50k on Friday. Dan was very supportive and helpful during this time.
The night before the race, I joined several runners at the observatory and we got a complimentary astronomy lesson and a chance to look through a large telescope. The Trilogy is held in the darkest area this side of the Mississippi, so the stargazing was amazing.
The morning of the 50k turned out to be perfect. It was a little chilly, and there was no rain (that would come later in the race). I ran about half of the race with my good friend Marit Janse, and Bill, and Marci Colyer. I was hoping for an 8 1/2 hour finish, but I realized early on that my body was still not loving me from the Barkley Fall Classic.
The race is hard and technical. It’s really rocky. A lot of times it was hard to get a good rhythm going because of the terrain. There are at least 10 stream crossings (several almost knee deep), and multiple hill climbs over a mile long. I lost Marit during the longest climb. I was not quite as fast as my friends as they trudged up the side of the mountain.
For about 16 miles I ran alone. It began pouring the rain and I loved it! There is something special about running through the woods, splashing through the mud and muck that makes me come alive. It rained for a long time, but I was content. I made it to the first cut off with a little over 30 minutes to spare. I downed some hot broth and took off. The next 5 miles were good to me. I used my spare minutes to climb up one of the mile long hills, and I was able to run the ridge. The last 2 plus miles were downhill. The path was narrow and cut into the hill. If you slipped or took a misstep, you were going over the side. I took my chances and flew down it. Yes, I almost took a long tumble over the side about 10 times, but I didn’t fall! This 2 mile stretch of downhill running made it possible for me to catch up with my friends later on for the last 3 miles.
Before catching up to my friends, I have an encounter with a dog. I’m hiking up another hill, and at one point I look up from the path and see a large white dog ahead on the trail. I immediately paused. At first, I thought I was hallucinating. I was out in the middle of nowhere, there should not be a dog here. I shook my head and looked again. He was still there. As I took a cautionary step towards him, his hackles rose and he growled at me. Oh crap, I thought, I’m going to get bit. I looked around for his owner and raised my voice as I talked to him, hoping they would call him off. There was no owner to be found. I then began to talk sweetly to him, calling him to me, as I tried to advance a second time. Once again, hackles and growling. I continued to call to him, assuring him I would not hurt him, and prepared for the bite I knew was coming. He finally came to me. Once he got within a foot of me, he stopped. I held my breath. He whined at me, barked, and then took off running past me. I exhaled with relief. I felt bad that I could not take him out of the woods with me, but I was happy to not have been bitten.
I was really glad when I caught up with my friends! It had been a long, hard day and I was ready to be done. I crossed the finish line in 9:24. It was not the 8:30 I had hoped for, but I was still happy with my performance. I had taken the time to get some wonderful pictures, survived a stand off with a dog, and managed to finish a tough technical course in the rain with over an hour to spare. It was a good day!
I highly suggest this race weekend to all of my running friends. Come join me next year for one (or all) of the races offered. I’ll be there, ready to conquer the 50 mile. It’s a challenging weekend filled with beauty and friendship.
WV Trilogy Race Report – Ashley Dolin
WV Trilogy 2016
Arrived Thursday evening at the Mountain State Institute with Brittany Pauley. We set up camp in the big, open, windy field. Nerves start to kick in after the four hour drive of discussing each of our race plans. The 50k was her first ultra!
After setting up camp we headed over to the main yurt for packet pickup and dinner. Along the way we met Rob from Mt. Airy, NC. Super cool guy who was running all three days.
The main yurt is slowly filling with runners and those who will aid us along with some of their family. I greet all of those I consider my running family with a warm hug, and introduce Brittany to anyone she may be meeting for the first time. After all, we are going to be here all weekend blending in together.
My plan all along after running an achy 30 mile training run a few weeks before Trilogy, was to take the 50k easy, survive the 50 mile by making the cutoff times, and give anything else left of my body to the half.
Up early Friday morning after very little sleep, due to the kite I slept in shaking violently in the wind all night. I had slipped my clothes in the sleeping bag the night before so they’d be warm enough wear in the crisp tent air of the morning. I panicked as I searched the tent for the clothes I knew I laid out the night before, only to finally remember the lump in the bottom of the sleeping bag was them. I accidentally wore the shorts I intended to wear the 50 mile day for the 50k instead. Crawling out of the tent in the dark field I noticed it was warmer than expected and not raining! Brittany packed a Coleman stove, so we fought the wind and made oats. I even had Earl Gray Tea. We made our way to the start to have a pre-race poo. I hollered at the line of port-a-johns, “Brittany, did you warm the seat up for me?”, no reply. I found an empty toilet, made a TP nest, and got settled, only to find out my feet dangled. Now I know what our 4 and 6 year olds feel like when the bench is missing from our bathroom at home.
Lining up at the start with my take it easy plan in the front of my brain, I was excited to see the months of training put to use today, and the two races after. Brittany and I had hit the hills at Kanawha State Forest for months; now was both of our chances to see all that climbing pay off.
Andrew Rhodes blew the big blue horn and we were off! Running a while and meeting a few new people was nice. I met a sweet lady named Dawn from Virginia. Mary Jane and I ran what seemed like a good 10 miles together, even going through the drop bag aid station still chatting. We walked up the first really steep hill and she said, “That one was a real booger!” I love her terminology.
At Judy Springs, I ran solo up top. I’m pretty sure I heard a coyote licking its lips as I ran by. It was pretty dreary up there; no sun, rainy, and super windy. Climbing back down, I met Stacy from D.C. Super nice girl who was racing the Army 10 miler Sunday in her home area. Glad I didn’t take any wrong turns and survived the creek crossings, it was nice to see the aid station again. Dennis, Pete, and Andrew were all great as I went on fighting to keep my happy pace.
Not many miles later, I came to the last aid station where the ladies and gentleman were super-sweet and gave me a warm cheese quesadilla while filling my water pack. Took off from the aid station and had my first experience climbing Cardiac Hill. Mary Beth Strickler had told me about this climb and how you get to finish on it all three days. I walked every bit of it, followed the course markings to the finish downhill, and crossed the line in about 8 ½ hours. Brittany came along after she was saved by some trail running angels from Michigan. Life is good. I congratulated Sarah Bee and Mary Jane then found the land line to call my husband and tell him how the day went for me.
Everyone did a fantastic job Friday. Those who just came up for the 50k or half or both encouraged those of us who chose to run all three races. Saturday morning I built up the mental strength to crawl out of my tent once again, but this time there was a cold solid downpour. Wearing a free poncho I got at a 5k, I knocked on the door of the car where Brittany was asleep and told her to go back to bed since I was going to eat breakfast at the main yurt today. Hot food, yum. I had a bad case of the nerves, so I only stomached a handful of cooked oats with brown sugar while chatting with Krista and James Dick about Cedar Point.
Leaving my poncho inside, I follow the crowd of racers outside to the dark starting line where I pose for a photo with Krista and Sarah Bee. Dan Lehmann hollers “Go!” We are off. Rain is constant in our head lamps so looking up is difficult since all you can see is a solid sheet pouring down. The night before, a group of us decided to loosely hang together all day and make the cutoffs. Joe McQuade, Mary Jane, Sarah Bee,Lorraine Moore, and I for the most part hung together taking turns leading. Once the same came up enough to turn off the headlamps, I found myself on Huckleberry Trail a ways along. I smack my head hard on a hemlock limb after turning sharp on the trail to keep following the blue ribbons.
Heading up what we came down in the Judy Springs area on 50k day, was a little harder today since it was leading to the first cut off at 25 miles. Out and back on Whites Run is a task. I ran behind Charlotte Johnson. At that point I was leading the group we formed the night before since running up hill hurt way less than pounding down. Charlotte and I chatted a bit, laughing at how “downhill” is not what we’d call this trail. My group caught me easily once the real downhill began. We high-fived and cheered every runner who was making their way back up the hill. Krista, on her way back, told us a tale of tater tots at the aid station. My morning oats had long ago burned off and the idea of warm tots made my pace quicken and mouth water. After making our way down the switchbacks and crossing the creek, we made it to the aid station. “We heard you have tots”, I excitedly yell to Joey Jarvis and Charles Belcher. We all get what we need from our drop bags and four of us head out of the aid station with a fist full of tots. I also have a dill pickle spear Charles dug out of the jar for me. “I’ll never look at tater tots the same way again.” I say this to my group and they all laugh. It’s true.
Four of us prepare to go back up Whites Run as Sara Bee comes doan and says she hurts too much and is done. We all tell her “No” and we hurt to. There is also plenty of time to spare for this aid cut off.
Joe McQuade asks me to lead since he claims I am a beast on the hills, and it hurts my legs way less than the declines. Up we climb, I start to break off a bit and see a few more racers heading down to the aid station. Once I’m up top on the rolling section of Whites Run, I get a bit dizzy. I have an emergency sucker tucked away for just such an occasion. It helps! Following the directions on a plate Adam Casseday made is not too much of a task at this point. Lorraine is right with me, so we chat and catch up as we run to the next aid station. I tell her my husband will be at that aid station. I’m excited to see him since we’ve been apart a few days and so much has happened. Descending Hortons Trail, Lorraine takes off saying,“This is it!”She had known the race thanks to prior race years. I arrive at the aid station to find my husband and daughters. Surprise! Now I have to be a mom when I’m finished. I kiss our girls, tell Lorraine’s daughter how strong her mom is, and take my pack from my husband who filled it with Nuun tabs for me. Michael Bee is also at this aid station. He says Sarah kept running. This makes Lorraine and I happy.
After I grab some sugar (Payday and Almond Joy) and a hot cheesy quesadilla, Lorraine and I take off for a three mile climb up Allegheny Trail. Lorraine’s daughter snaps the last photos as we make our way down the gravel road preparing for the last major climb. My watch dies at 10 hours or 37.5 miles. Lorraine and I make it to the top and start a rolling section with some little climbs. I pull her up and on the downhill areas, she leads. I only have the real time on the Timex I wore on my other wrist. My goal was to make the last aid station by 6:30 pm. Then the wind picks up, the rain blows out of every tree, and we just keep running through it all.
After a particularly windy, wet, and sloppy trail section, I look up and see the glorious last aid station. (Lorraine told me later on I had started to sprint.) “Man, am I glad to see you guys!” I yell. “And we’re happy to see you.” Aaron Yocum replies. Michael Bee was there so that meant Sarah was still trucking on. My Timex said it was 6:05 pm. Plenty of time left if I had to walk every bit of the last 3.8 miles. A huge weight was off my chest. We had made every cut off in the worst weather imaginable and Lord willing, we’d see the finish line by 14 hours.
We crossed all four cattle gates in the day light. The cows were almost close enough to pet as we ran from one gate to the next. We saw a tree that had beautiful red leafs as we climbed the fences. Finally we turned our lamps on and pushed out the last bit of the race on a trail lined with trees on both sides, making it even darker. Then there is was: 1 mile to go. Cardiac Hill is a walker at this point and a man named David joined us as we share how happy we are about today’s accomplishments.
Crossing the line is sweet victory. My husband is there and our six year old runs out to take my glow stick. Lorraine and I can finally hug. Brittany is there with tears in her eyes for me. The felling is the ultimate runners high.
I hobble to the main yurt and am greeted warmly by everybody. I lay on the floor with an upset belly as it takes a while to get going. We work out sleeping arrangements since there are four of us now and the tent is soaked. Julie Tisone’s girls made cookies. I am able to stomach half of one. That is what gets me off the floor. With a yurt secured for us and some dinner at least on a plate, I manage to survive the rest of the evening!
It was easier to get up and running Sunday than to lie in the yurt where I slept very little for the third night in a row. At least it was warm and not wind blown.
A man tried to blow Andrew’s blue horn for the start of the half marathon, but to no avail. As we started the race I was tight, but loosened up as the race went on. Also, my quads were super sore, but up hills once again felt way better on my legs than down hill. Eating way more for breakfast than any previous day, I felt energetic as the miles flew by. Mary Jane, Lorraine, and I hung out until we split on the uphill towards the fire tower. I led there and Mary Jane took off at the split in the trail as we crossed the four cattle fences to the finish. Up Cardiac Hill one last time and I actually passed a man who was just doing the half! Crossing the line for the last time was bittersweet. I’m glad to be finish, but sad it was over. Months of training paid off, and a bonus to my finish, I was actually starving and able to eat. Didn’t stay that way long, but nice to load up on hot, salty food. My first Trilogy was eye opening. As I walked to the shower, Joe Tucker asked me how I felt and my reply was, “Like I accomplished something”. I’m grateful for everyone who came out and helped in any way to make this fantastic race possible.
The days following the race involved the dreaded task of unpacking, straightening my bent tent poles, and sleeping 13 hours in a row as soon as we got in the door. Now I know it’s possible to make those cut off times and race back-to-back-to-back days on little sleep. I am anxious to try Trilogy again. I would love for Lorraine’s race plans to cross mine again.
Happy Trails,
Author: Ashley- Female Trilogy Finisher
