Leatherwood Mountains 50 Miler

Pics from the Leatherwood Facebook Page

The basics:  The inaugural Leatherwood Mountains 50 mile run was held in conjunction with a  50K and 10 miler.  It was located in the countryside outside Lenoir, NC at the Leatherwood Mountains Resort, a horse-oriented vacation resort with mountain cabins and miles of riding trails.  It was mainly on these trails that the race was held.  Mark Connolly and Tim Worden were the race directors and did a nice job organizing it.

The course layout:  The 50 mile runners ran three loops, each color-coded.  The first loop was 25 miles, the second 15 and the third 10.  Each loop started and ended at the start/finish area which made it convenient to have a drop bag/cooler waiting for you.

The terrain:  Mainly single-track, much of it fairly technical. with some gravel road and pavement sections. Relentless steep, but relatively short, climbs and descents.  The trails at times were heavily covered in leaves, disguising what was underneath. There was a lot of mud because of the rainstorms the day before and that, combined with some stream crossings meant wet feet most of the day.  Some of the super-steep descents were really slick and many runners had a nice coating of mud on their backsides. If the Garmin data on the website is accurate, you get over 13,000 feet of gain.  (For comparison, the Mountain Masochist has 9,000 feet). 

The aid:  The aid stations seemed to be 5-8 miles apart (guesstimating).  They had everything I could have wanted:  potatoes with salt, sweets, chips, pretzels, gels, coke, chicken broth, BACON and PBR (although I passed on the latter).  The volunteers were super helpful and friendly.

Highlights of the course:  Pretty mountain views and cool breezes up high.  Passing a lot of very nice cabins.  A long paved/gravel road section that winds through farmland, reminiscent of Old Dominion.

Logistics:  Cabins were available to rent on site and it was a great location for a family to come and hang out, with a restaurant on site.  (I stayed in Lenoir, which was about 30 minutes away.)  Packet pickup and check in was well organized and I had a nice women's cut technical shirt already tucked in my bag.  You were allowed a drop bag at the Rawhide aid station, which you passed through several times, but I just went with leaving a box at the start/finish.


Race organization:  Excellent, despite first year glitches. It's obvious the race directors wanted everyone to have a great time and put a lot of time and effort into it. I have no doubt everything will be fine-tuned next year.

The 'I run for swag' factor:  Socks, sticker, tech-t-shirt in a woman's cut and a pint glass.

My race:  This was the first time my knee felt good going into a race and I think I have built up a solid base in training.  I feel strong, but slow. 

The race started well.  The mile or so of flat pavement in the beginning helped me get my breathing under control and once we hit the first steep gravel road climb, I felt good power-hiking and was able to pass many runners.  My legs were turning over good on the steep technical downhills, although I was trying to be as cautious as possible in the deep leaves.  I was able to stay upright on the slick mud, although I did a lot of twisting and turning.

As the miles wore on, the fact that I still don't have as much agility in my "bad" leg slowed me down, but that's a minor issue I can fix.  All day long, I felt relatively good and I think I was moving steadily on all the hills, although I am still not pushing out of my comfort zone.  My knee started to feel achy and stiff about three hours in, but no actual pain.


Despite feeling good physically, I did have some bad times mentally.  The course marking were confusing (which the race directors will be adjusting next year) and as a result, runners were taking wrong turns onto the 50K course or getting in some bonus miles.  Although I am quite sure I stayed on course, there were runners who were behind me that ended up in front and some in front that ended up in back.  Also, the 50K started an hour after the 50 mile, meaning there were a lot of people out on the course who were passing me.

After the initial 25 mile loop, I began to feel like I was way in the back, judging from all the people ahead of me on out and backs and how alone I was at other times.  This was frustrating, because I felt like I was moving well.  I bent Dan Hartley's ear on the last ten mile loop with my frustration and conviction that we were alone at the back of the pack.  He assured me we were somewhere in the middle and it turns out he was right (4th female, 37 out of 77 starters, 12 hours 30 minutes).

One of the best parts of my race was on that last ten mile loop, trying to keep up with Dan on a steep, technical downhill.  For the first time since my surgery, I flew down the mountain like I used to.  With 45 miles under my belt, my knee felt just fine.

One week later my knee has not swelled and there has been minimal pain. Maybe, finally, I have balanced out my legs and found a shoe (Brooks Glycerins) that make my knee happy. My goal to this point has been to just get my knee back to normal.  After the Georgia Death Race and this race, I feel like I can now focus on getting back to being the runner I used to be.

Boston Reflections

I learned about the explosions at the Boston Marathon on my way to run on the Appalachain Trail after work.  It had happened less than an hour before, so details were still sketchy, but I did know that  people had died at the finish line area.  My thoughts went immediately to my friends and the members of my Brooks family who were running Boston.  But then I started thinking about all the family members and children who wait excitedly for their runner at the finish.  By the time I hit the ridgeline and started  downhill, my throat had closed up and I was hyperventilating.  All weekend there had been so much excitement among runners about the race that they had trained so hard for and then to have it end in such tragedy.

 I stopped until I could breathe again and looked around, appreciating my solitude and the relative safety of these mountains and woods.  But then I had a reality check.  The suspect in my first murder scene as a police officer had fled to Pennsylvania and killed two hikers on the AT.  Less than a mile from where I was standing, Gary Hilton had dumped the body of John Bryant, an elderly hiker he had killed near Brevard.  About two miles away, Alan and I had the enounter with the crazy guy in the van at the trailhead, who acted like he had a gun.  Two miles in the other direction, I had an unsettling encounter with a hiker who may have been Eric Rudolph, the Olympic bomber, when he first went on the run. A friend of mine had a violent enounter while running the AT.  This trail and these mountains are no more safe than anywhere else.  But as I continued to look around, I still found a sense of  peace that only these mountains bring me.  As I ran, three older through-hikers, obviously enjoying their day, blissfully unaware of what was happening in the world, stepped aside so I could pass by.  They were delighted to learn that they only had a short distance left to the road  and thanked me so I could continue on my "gallop".  "Don't take this the wrong way," one of them said as I left, "but you smell good."  

What a great place this trail is.  Moments that make me smile sure do outweigh the ones that make me sad.  This world is such a place, too.  

Snow Runs

We didn't get much snow this winter until March and the official start of spring was ushered in by three days of it. Earlier in the month, the DoubleTop 100 in Northern Georgia had to be halted mid-race because of the dangerous snowy road conditions.  Alan and I were supposed to sweep the night section and I was pretty disappointed that I would not get to.  So, instead of heading to Georgia, we headed to Standing Indian and did a 28 mile snow run that ended at midnight, fulfilling any need I had to run in a frigid blowing snowstorm for awhile.  Well, at least three weeks.  Here's some pics from that run:

Two weeks ago I was on spring break and it snowed for three days.   On Monday, I did an 8-mile run to Siler's Bald on the AT and back and found a few inches of snow.  Usually, in weather like that (strong winds, low 20's and snowing), I have complete solitude on the trail.  But it is through-hiker season here and I shared the trail with 24 of them on that four mile stretch of trail.  Several of them were heading back down the mountain, unprepared for the weather.  I eventually ended up in front, alone, and in an area sheltered from the wind just below the bald, I found a winter wonderland:

The next day, I messaged Alan to see if he knew where a lot of snow was.  He didn't but offered to take me up to Wayah Bald, one of the high points in the Southern Nantahalas so I could run back "down" to Franklin on the Bartram Trail (there is a lot of steep uphill on that downhill run).  I took him up on the offer and a couple of hours later, he dropped me off at Sawmill Gap, a remote trailhead on a snow-covered forest road.  There were three or four inches on the road and more on the ground. Everything was white and beautiful, not only from the snow, but from a heavy coating of rime ice.  I hopped out of the truck, he drove off and as I rounded the corner to get on the trail, I discovered that there was a lot more snow than I had imagined.  I was expecting a few inches, not a foot or more.  After Alan drove away and I discovered the amount of snow I would be post-holing through, I thought that maybe this wasn't a really good idea after all.  But then I remembered that this was Alan's idea and if I died of hypothermia, Tony could be mad at him instead of me.

The first few hundred yards were beautiful with the deep powdery snow, the solid white trees, the silence except for the strong, steady wind and a very real sense of being alone, far away from everything.
 

Then, the going got pretty tough.  There was probably only about 8" in sheltered areas where there was no wind, but there wasn't many of those areas on the ridge line.  The strong winds had piled up 24"-30" drifts for much of the two miles between Sawmill Gap and the intersection with the AT.  It was slow going pushing through the drifts, especially on the uphills, but it was well-worth it. I had a sense of wonderment, coupled with a strong sense of caution.  It was 22 degrees when I got out of the truck and the wind was blowing hard.  I was dressed warmly enough and carried some extra layers, but it would be awhile before anyone could get to me, even if they knew to come get me.  So, while enjoying the sublime beauty, I moved slowly enough to be careful, but fast enough not to be caught in the dark before reaching Franklin 16 miles away.

Right before the intersection with the AT, there was a spot sheltered from the wind where the snow had covered everything:

Once on the AT, about six hikers had already pushed through the snow that day, so the going was easier for the next four miles or so.  Then it was back on the Bartram, where the newest obstacle was snow laden rhododendron blocking the trail.  Again, slow going as I stopped to shake them off so I could pass.

As the elevation dropped, so did the snow depth until I got to the area where I had taken pictures of the bear prints and large cat prints in the snow a few weeks before.

That area is exposed to the wind and once again I was back in deep drifts.  This time, though, it was also a very steep downhill, with the consequence of the snow packing up my legs under my pants as I post-holed down the slope. Eventually, the snow became spottier and I was relieved that I could move faster, more safely, but at the same time I was disappointed that the adventure was coming to an end.

I have never taken for granted my ability to get out into the mountains and run, but runs like these just remind me of how lucky I am to have these epic adventures. 

Georgia Death Race

I almost talked myself out of running the Georgia Death Race.


I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about who I am now as a runner, a reevaluation sparked by my recent knee issues.  In the fourteen months following the surgery, my running slowly progressed.  But, as I discussed in my previous post, the last four months had been more of a setback.  Any athlete who has had a serious injury knows that the hardest part of rehab is not knowing if you'll ever be capable of doing what you used to do.  By the time I reached the start line of the Death Race, I had convinced myself that my days of running the really tough, technical stuff might be over and I needed to focus on different goals.  However, here I was, with four weeks of training, getting ready to do something really stupid.  Nineteen hours later, laying face down in the dirt, I had no regrets.  Except for maybe not seeing that root.

The Georgia Death Race is a 64 mile point to point run in the North Georgia mountains.  It starts at Vogel State Park near Blairsville and ends at Amicalola Falls near Dawsonville.  The first half of the run follows the ridgeline on single track and by the time you are finished, you have endured over 30,000 feet of elevation change.  This seems almost impossible in Georgia, but much like with the Bartram  Trail, the original trail designer must have believed that switchbacks are for sissies.  If there is a mountain, you go over it, not around.

Created by Cary Stephens (not the full course)

This was the inaugural race and everything seemed to come off well organized and well planned.  The website and handbook were informative and any questions were answered quickly on the race's Facebook page.  The race director, Sean Blanton, was enthusiastic and easy to communicate with.  The start and finish venues were ideal, with lodging, camping and ample parking.  There were a couple of facets of the race I didn't personally like, but it is the race director's prerogative and I am fine with following his rules.  One is the 4:00 a.m. start.  It's hard to get any sleep, but I did appreciate being done before midnight.  The other is the mandatory gear list.  Even Hellgate, which dishes out frozen corneas and frostbite, doesn't have one.  With the gear I had to carry on a 70 degree day, I didn't have enough room for things I actually could use.  But I knew what I had to carry when I signed up for it and I understand why that requirement was there, so I have no complaints.

The check in and drop bag drop off went smoothly that morning. After a reading from Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities (it was the best of times, it was the worst of times...), the RD sent  the runners off into the night.  After a short run through the campground, runners hit the single track and remained there for the next 28 miles.  Just like any race on single track, there was a long conga line, but I ended up somewhere in the middle in a pack that was moving at the pace I wanted to.  After an initial steep climb, a long downhill gave everyone a chance to spread out before the big, steep 2000 foot climb to come.  The views of the lights in the valley down below were a nice reward as you continued the climb.

Photo by John McBrayer

After finally topping out, you ran on some gentle rolling trail for a short time.  I think that was the last time there was any gentle, rolling terrain for the rest of the race.  From there it was straight down the mountain on rough, muddy, canted trail.  A failure to control your slide would have resulted in a tumble over the edge and then you would have appreciated all the mandatory gear you had in your pack. And then the pattern began. Hit the gap at the bottom and start a steep crawl over the next peak.  I learned not to look up and see where I had to go; it was too demoralizing.  I focused on the trail in front of me and just kept plugging along.  The views from the ridgelines were exceptionally nice since there were not any leaves on the trees and the 4 a.m. start did give you a beautiful sunrise.

The heat became a major issue as the day wore on.  Without any leaves, there was no shade, and although there was a nice wind, the climbs became tougher and tougher.  Around 20 miles, you drop down a couple miles to an aid station.  It is an out and back and I could tell by looking at the runners coming up the hill that it was going to be tough getting back up that hill.  It was not as steep as the other climbs, just longer and hotter.  By the time we hit the next aid station, the heat had really cranked up.  This was the first really warm weekend of the year and most of us were not acclimated.  This is what I was doing two weeks before (yes, my hair is frozen) :

 Anyway, my body tends to handle heat and cold well and I didn't have major issues.  Some other runners were not so lucky and the heat ended their race.

At mile 28, there was a short, easy road section, followed by a a nice swinging bridge and then a cruel surprise- another long steep climb.  This turned into a seven mile section of single track with more steep climbs and descents. People were really starting to suffer from the heat here.

At the end of this section, however, it was all forest road to the end.  Unfortunately, the roads were gravel and at times rough, beating up your feet pretty badly.  Luckily, I ended up running with a couple of other runners whose pace kept me moving decently and conversation distracted me from the monotony of road.

There was a particularly pretty section of paved road that went through some farm land.  Everything was green, the daffodils were blooming and the people were friendly.  When the road turned back to gravel, a never-ending climb to next aid station began.  It wasn't steep, but after a long, hot day, it was just tiring.  The mileage was off in some parts of the course and I'm hoping this was one of the sections. It sure felt longer than seven miles.

Once you reach the final aid station at the top, you have a nice easy run downhill to Amicalola Falls State Park.  Once in the park, you finish by running down a steep, rocky road, and then down a final, rooty section of trail to the finish.  About 500 yards from the finish, I took my only spill of the day and it was a good one. One moment I was upright and the next minute face down in the dirt.  Literally.  I skinned my forehead and my nose. I landed on my bad knee. After laying there briefly, laughing at my stupidity, I got up and assessed the damage.  I was afraid Tony would see me  at the finish with blood streaming down my face, so I rinsed it with my water and waited for two runners who came up behind me to make sure it didn't look too bad.   A few minutes later, I had my spike in my hand, a nice finish to over nineteen hours of running.

 So, my day....

My knee didn't hurt.  The moment I decided it couldn't handle the tough runs, it proved me wrong.  I have no explanation for that.  I was hurting just sitting the day before. Eight hours on similar terrain on the Bartram made me limp.  But today, nineteen hours of steep controlled slides, mud, off camber trails, rocks, and uneven gravel didn't bother it.  I did take some ibuprofen to keep inflammation down, but not much. When I fell at the end of  the race, I scraped and bruised the knee, but it still works fine.  I didn't feel the imbalance in my legs that I had been feeling, so my visits to the weight room have paid off.  I guess I'll know for sure when I go for a run on it in a day or two. My big problem, though, was my asthma. I already had some chest congestion before the race started.  Being stuck in the dust of other runners made it worse and my lungs ached most of the day.

I did not expect to go under 20 hours.  Even though I did not try to push my pace at any point and was careful to run as gently as I could, I finished at least five hours faster than I predicted.  I was in a good mood all day, very thankful that my knee was working, that I was capable of doing this race, and I was just happy to be out there.

The race was well done.  The terrain was extremely challenging and beautiful. The aid stations workers and radio operators were all friendly and helpful.  The course was exceptionally well marked and whenever I started to worry if I was in the right place I found a marker.  I wish there had been more real food at the aid stations later in the day, but that is a problem at many races. Apparently there had been some, but it was gone when I came through and a couple of aid stations had run out of coke. The bacon aid station, however, did not disappoint!  The drop bag return was a bit problematic, but the race director quickly contacted me and is mailing what I was missing.

It was nice to see many friends from NC, SC and GA at the race, both running and crewing. The Foothills crowd was well represented (Psyche and Charles, Byron, the Lundblads).  And congratulations to Mark Lundblad who won the race tearing it up in 11:40!

ACL Update at 18 Months

If you are looking for a running post, I'll save you some time. This post about ACL pain over a year post-op.  I couldn't find a lot of information when I googled it, so thought I should post an update.

After Pinhoti 100 in November, I had a lot of bad runs.  My knee would start aching, I would compensate with the other leg and by the end of any run over 8 miles, I just hurt from the hips down.  I also noticed that my muscle strength was still out of balance, so I started doing some rehab again. (Once I got my weekly mileage up, I had stopped rehabbing, mistakenly thinking that the hills and trails would suffice).

Around Christmas, my long incision scar started to feel painfully tight when I ran, and then the next weekend,  I rolled my right ankle a little, which yanked on my left (bad) knee.  It hurt, but then I finished the run out no problem.  After that run, the top of my scar swelled up and whenever I tried to run for the next couple of weeks, it hurt too much.  The pain emanated from the scar, but it also felt like things were digging into the kneecap above the scar.  I got very frustrated because this was the first time since surgery that it hurt too much to run.  After a couple weeks of rest, ice and massage, the swelling and pain subsided to the point where I could run again. I did two back to back eight mile runs with what I now consider normal pain: where I can run, but the knee reminds me constantly that it still isn't 100%.

I  went to see my surgeon to make sure there wasn't something bad going on inside.  He was a little concerned that I might be having issues with the screw, but X-rays showed everything intact.  He said I probably did something to it when I rolled my ankle and in the future, whenever it started giving me trouble, to back off and get on the bike for a little while.  Ice, three advil three times a day and if it doesn't respond to ice, try heat.  He also said there's a bursa in there that might get irritated.

Since then (the end of January), I have been in the gym twice a week working my legs hard. Interestingly, my "bad" leg was stronger in some ways than my "good" leg.  After a month, I don't see a big difference in my legs anymore.  I have been stretching a lot and I have slowly worked my mileage up.  It still hurts, more on some days than others, but it is not pain that causes me to limp or compensate. Some days it feels like I have a sharp rock behind my kneecap, other times it is more patellar tendon pain, where it connects to the kneecap.

As of early March, I have run a 28 mile trail run in the snow with little problem. I yanked the knee initially on a rocky trail and it hurt for a couple hours, but subsided.  I ran a 24 mile extremely steep run and it hurt pretty bad on the downhills by the end of the day.  This weekend I run the Georgia Death Race, a 60 mile steep run and that will be the big test.

Best Run of the Year

Normally I don't write about my weekend long runs, but my last run of 2012 was pretty special.  Trail running in the snow is my favorite thing to do and I had missed all of last winter with my ACL. So when it dusted snow at my house in the valley this weekend, I decided to head up to Standing Indian to see what I could find .

The plan was to run a 24 miles loop, up Kimsey Creek, north on the AT over Standing Indian and back to the car on Long Branch.  Since Pinhoti, I haven't had a good long run.  My knee ends up hurting and I compensate with my other leg, which then also ends up hurting.  After stopping at 50K at One Epic Run, I decided to refocus on rehabbing and to try different shoes in hopes of getting more cushion.  I ordered the Glycerins and they have felt good on the short runs I have done.  (Three years ago, I switched from the Cascadias to road shoes, Ravennas, even on the most technical trails, like the Massanutten, with much success.) So this would be a test run.

There was snow on Kimsey Creek and the temperature was still at freezing, despite my 11 a.m. start time. Kimsey Creek is very rocky and wet, but the Glycerins did well, with the exception of trying to cross the ice coated rocks at the edge of these little falls. But nothing would have done well on that!
 

As I got higher in elevation, I also moved into ice-covered trees. Closer to Deep Gap, I passed through a tunnel of ice covered bushed and trees. With the sunlight behind it, it was spectacular, but the pictures don't capture the scene.

  On the AT, there was more snow, not more than a couple inches except where it had drifted.  It was exceptionally cold, as always, on the back side of Standing Indian, well below freezing with a brisk wind.  Past the shelter, the trail became more treacherous, with a thick coating of ice under the snow.  Luckily, I had brought my Kahtoolas, hoping I would get to use them.  (It's always a good run when you get to strap on the microspikes).

 

The scenery became even more spectacular as I climbed, with the combination of ice, snow and rime ice.

I decided to take the side trail to the to top of Standing Indian and found only one other set of footprints up top.  I had passed a family on the way up and I felt very lucky to be one of the few people to see this view that day.

  
When I continued on the AT south of Standing Indian, there were no other footprints in the snow, and I was again thankful for being able to be on the trail that day.  The rhododendrons were coated in ice and when you brushed by them as you ran, it sounded like pieces of glass tinkling.

 

 

I ended up shortening my run to about 16 miles because I had spent so much time taking pictures. During the run, I had wrenched my knee a little (looking up at the ice instead of down at the rocks), but other than that, my body felt good for the first time in awhile.  The Glycerins were very comfortable, even with the Kahtoolahs strapped on.


So 2012 came to an end with this spectacular run.  I've had a long road back this year and still have obstacles to overcome, but I sure am thankful to be able to run through these mountains again.

 Best moments of 2012

1.  After eight months of no running after tearing my ACL, being allowed to start running in March.

2.  My first run back on the trails.

3.  Running in the fall leaves and running in the snow.

4.  Running 93 miles on the one year anniversary of the surgery.

5.  Running Pinhoti 100 two months later.

 2013 Goals

1.  Getting my knee and leg back to 100%.
2.  March:  Georgia Death Race
3.  July:  Vermont 100
4.  Fall:  Running the Bartram Trail (110 miles) northbound (because southbound didn't hurt enough?)

One Epic Run (well, not too epic for me)

Alan and I had both signed up for One Epic 24 hour Run, but I told him the week before that I had not done a long run since Pinhoti that didn't hurt.  We agreed that we wouldn't run the full 24 hours and would either do 50 miles or 100K.

The race was held at Croft State Park near Spartanburg, S.C., less than three hours from home.  The race director reserved a loop of the campground so runners could camp (for free) during the race and have access to the restrooms and hot showers.  Alan and I, however, opted to drive up that morning since we weren't staying the full 24 hours.

Check-in was well organized, runners received a beanie rather than a t-shirt, and after a short race briefing, we were off.  The run is on a single-track 3 mile loop.  You first head downhill to cross a scenic river (on a bridge) and then gradually uphill through the woods until you hit the combat zone.  (To the left of the trail was a 20 foot bank and directly behind that was a firing range.  Judging from the constant barrage of gunfire, this was a very popular firing range.  And oddly, and this may be a remnant instinct from my law enforcement days, every time I passed by, I had a strange urge to crawl on my belly up that bank and peek over to see what they were firing.  Of course, I also had an urge to go take a nap in the car, but I resisted both). 

Anyway, back to the run.  A lot of the course was nicely groomed, but there were some technical areas with roots and uneven ground, along with a small stream crossing on a log.  There were some hills, but it was all runnable. You continued clockwise, heading back towards the river on a long flat section, back over the bridge and up to the aid station to check-in.  This was a great aid station:  jerky, sandwiches, potatoes, sweets, pretzels, gels, pizza in the afternoon, and a lot of other food that I didn't try. The volunteers were super friendly and helpful and the race felt like a reunion of area runners. You were almost always around someone you knew.

Unfortunately, my run continued the pattern of hurting since Pinhoti.  My knee felt stiff and sore and I was doing some weird compensating with my other leg.  Pretty soon my uneven gait made everything hurt and I quit having fun.   I decided to stop at 50K and Alan agreed to as well.  After a hot shower, I left a 24 hour race for the first time ever before dark.  It was actually kind of nice.

I was disappointed, not so much with only running 50K, but with the problems I was having with my legs.  Tony, who has done the whole ACL thing and more, on more than one occasion, says that despite what the doctors say, it will be a year and a half to two years before everything is normal.  So, I am back to serious rehabbing, trying to build up my weaker leg more, and not a whole lot of running since the race. I don't have any major runs for a while, so I am just going to be patient, have fun, and do whatever my legs feel like doing.