Yeti 100 Mile Endurance Run — 2021 Race Report
My First Hundred Miler!
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100 miles. I’m not really sure what exactly compels a person to decide to run that far. I had originally planned and trained to run Umstead 100 in spring 2020 as my first 100 miler — perhaps a bit ambitiously jumping straight from a 40 miler to a 100 miler — but, well, spring 2020 happened. In that aftermath I felt burned out from running and not ready to immediately defer to the following year, but once January 2021 rolled around that old restless itch reappeared and asked, “what if…” So I signed up for the Yeti 100 Mile Endurance Run lottery, thinking there was no way I’d actually get in. (Surprise!!)
It’s been a whirlwind summer running trails with Fleet Feet and friends, and in the days leading up to the race I spent time journaling about why I run at all, why I run each day, why I’m racing, and what are my long-term goals (special shout-out to Megan and David Roche’s book The Happy Runner* for this exercise!) But while it may never exactly be clear why I felt compelled to run 100 miles, I knew how I wanted to race. Celebration and community. It is a celebration of all the physical and emotional work I’ve done this summer. It is a chance to be with my running family — with my crew who are so gracious and kind, and with my fellow runners who defy all sense and chase after big dreams. It is a chance to run blindly into the unknown and see what else I may discover.
And so, with a full and grateful heart, I set off on a grand adventure.
Drop Bag & Packet Pick-up
I had booked a whole house in Abingdon on AirBnB for base camp for my crew for the race weekend — it turned out to be directly on the Virginia Creeper Trail and half a mile away from the Alvarado aid station, which was super convenient — so McCrae and I stopped by Damascus first to lay out my drop bag, then went by the AirBnB to set up base camp, and then headed to Abingdon for packet pick-up.
Our AirBnB!
The Damascus drop bag situation was a low-key affair. It took a little effort to turn onto the correct side road to the Creeper Trail Cottages, but we easily found the picnic pavilion and aid station tent and tarp for drop bags. And as soon as I dropped my drop bag I felt a thrill — this was actually happening! No backing out now!
“Fuuuuuuuuuu** what am I getting myself into? I wondered.”
Photo credit: Brian Walker
Packet pick-up was at Wolf Hills Brewing in Abingdon. I had specifically picked a Yeti race because they’re famous for being inclusive and welcoming, but even so I noticed women and minority groups were still underrepresented (Yeti 100 this year had about 40% female entrants compared to the average 16% female entrants for races over 50 miles per a 2020 report on ultrarunning). Basically…it was still a sausage fest, with lots of wiry-looking guys flexing in t-shirts for Western States, Hard Rock, and Leadville. Fuuuuuuuuuu** what am I getting myself into? I wondered.
But I got in line, got my packet, and got a sweet skateboard deck with a hot pink upper as race swag! (“Shrink it and pink it” is stupid, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love hot pink.) (And I might have insisted on carrying all my own stuff so that there was no doubt to anyone else that I was the one racing the next day. Sorry I let my ego shine for a few minutes) I very briefly saw my friends Amy and Kandace who were also running the next day, but they didn’t stick around and I felt myself absorbing all the anxious energy at the brewery and just wanted to go back to the AirBnB, get settled, have a quiet dinner with my crew, and get some sleep. Which is exactly what I did.
Race swag included the skateboard deck, a sweatshirt, a hat, socks, a buff, and a bunch of stickers and pins. I also bought another hat, pair of socks, and buff, just for funsies. I was really hesitant to buy merch though, since I usually want to make sure the race goes well and I had fun before I end up with a bunch of stuff memorializing it, but McCrae encouraged me to go ahead and shop since this was such a milestone race for me. In the packet we also had our race bib (no chip fyi) and a bracelet that said “NO SLEEP TILL ABINGDON.” We were instructed to wear the bracelet at all times during the race so that “when we see you walking sideways, we know it’s because you’re crazy enough to run a 100 mile race.” Once again, what am I getting myself into?! I tried not to dwell on it 😆
Race Start: Whitetop to Damascus (Miles 0 to 18)
On Friday morning I woke up at 4:30am to prep for the race and head to Abingdon to catch a shuttle to Whitetop. The Abingdon trail terminus parking lot was full of white passenger vans from the assorted outfitters in the area, and I piled into one with a couple other runners from NC. The van rambled along the mountain roads while I rambled along with a woman named Malin about women’s trail groups, her daughter, and more (hi Malin!)
Heather, me, Amy, and Kandace! We’re not nervous at all, nope! lol
The Whitetop trail terminus is at one end of the gravel rail trail. We had been given instructions to pack a jacket and cold weather clothes for when we went up to Whitetop overnight, but I realized it might be cold in the morning too, so I packed gloves and arm warmers and was glad for them! We all huddled in the dark trying to keep warm until the earliest blue light of dawn marked the sky from the shadows, and the race director called us all to step forward.
I was thrilled to find my friends Kandace, Amy M., and Heather in the dim light of the start line and we took a quick pic before the race officially commenced and we all ran down the mountain!
It was all downhill for nearly 18 miles to Damascus from the race start, and I ran with Kandace for those miles. I really had no time goal except to finish, but I was guessing I'd finish somewhere in the 27 to 29 hours range. Just enough time ahead of cut-offs to be comfortable, but not enough time to dawdle. My top priorities were feet and eat, and knew I needed to run conservatively at the start. But at the same time...gosh it was exciting to toe the start line! Kandace is a speedier runner than me (especially over shorter distances), but she said she really wanted to pace herself at the start, so I tried to set a pretty easy pace. Well, relatively speaking. It was the very limit of "easy" to “moderate” for me, but I felt good so I went for it. It was still such a big unknown for me though — everyone said to start out even slower than you think you should for a 100 miler. Was I going too fast? Should I be incorporating walk breaks already? Am I going to crash and burn? But on the other hand, it was a race — time to test my mettle — and it was just so fun to run! Kandace and I cruised downhill along the beautiful river chatting as we caught up on life, our jobs, Kandace’s peanut allergy, and exchanging stories of our shenanigans in college (Kandace and I are actually sorority sisters! Phi Mu love!)
Damascus to Abingdon (Miles 18 to 33)
“I really should not have picked up and eaten that energy gel I found on the trail #IAmAToddler”
I was a little sad to leave Kandace when she stopped for a longer break at Damascus, but we ended up leap-frogging each other until Abingdon. The trail leveled out here, passing through woods and cow pastures, and I started incorporating walk breaks, just going by feel, but a feeling in my gut whispered of trouble.
(Lesson learned: boast to your friends that you have a stomach of steel, don't be surprised when it comes back to bite you. Also, I really should not have picked up and eaten that energy gel I found on the trail #IAmAToddler)
No seriously! I’m not joking! I will very often stop to pick up bits of trash along the trail during a run (#LeaveNoTrace), and I’ll also browse on things like blackberries and blueberries and muscadines that I find. But this time I found a gel that was unopened. It was the exact same gel I was carrying and planning on eating next, it was unopened, and I figured someone who was faster and ahead of me had dropped it on accident so it was fine to eat. So I ate it. Except, well, it didn’t taste super great. Kinda sharp and funky. And sure enough, thirty minutes later when I ate my gel, I immediately noticed the difference in taste. Sweet and fruity, not tart and ferment-y. Whoooooops.
And so, for the first time in my life, I stopped for a pit stop at an aid station. I mean, I figured it was bound to happen eventually that weekend. You don’t go nearly 30 hours and run 100 miles without at least one bathroom break. But at mile 24? After I ate a funky gel I found on the ground? Whooooo boy I was in for an adventure, wasn’t I?
I powered through to Abingdon and the first turnaround point, made a beeline for the bathrooms a second time, and was desperate enough to plunge a clogged toilet before loading up my hands with soap and sanitizer. Kandace had arrived and was refueling with her crew, and as I left Abingdon I saw Amy M. right behind me, and Heather a little farther behind. It was such a joy to see them and to cheer on the other runners that I saw!
Photo credit: Appalachian Exposures (race photographer)
Abingdon to Damascus (Miles 33 to 49)
At this point, my watch should have said 33.3 miles for the full distance of the Virginia Creeper Trail, but it was closer to 31 miles, so I knew, once again, my watch was coming up short. (My watch is notorious for this. One time I watched it only advance a quarter mile between two mile markers during a road marathon. My watch knows it’s a liar, I tell it to its watch face). I decided at that point to just treat it as a glorified timer.
I kept up a decent pace running by feel and jockeying for position from miles 33 to 40, but I started to fade a bit around miles 40 to 45. Most of the other runners had headphones in and were doing disciplined run-walk intervals at this time, so I admittedly got a little bored. I stopped for a few seconds to play on a bit of rock wall (it’s not a run-venture if I don’t find a mid-run boulder problem!) and I might have pretended to call a friend on a banana that I was carrying (because my stomach wouldn’t settle enough to make the idea of eating the banana appetizing).
Coming into Damascus the second time
My crew was hanging out on the trail behind the AirBnB house cheering people on and I was so excited to see them! But then the section of trail from Alvarado to Abingdon was a little more exposed by the road and the sun was hot and I missed having someone to run with, so I put in headphones and tried to finish listening to Rich Roll’s audiobook Finding Ultra* (which, by the way, I do NOT recommend. You can tell me I’m wrong but ew, Rich Roll, get over yourself and actually be nice to people.)
Leading up to mile 40 I was basically an hour ahead of pace for a sub-24 hour result, which BLEW MY MIND. I was so worried that I was running too fast and I kept trying to slow myself down, but at Damascus I was happily surprised to find McCrae! He was worried about me because my pace was starting to fall off, so he came to cheer me on and pace me a few miles (we were allowed to have pacers starting at mile 42 at Alvarado, but I’d originally opted to have pacers starting at mile 56). It was still daylight and warm, but I knew the forecast was 40 degrees and cold at the top of Whitetop, and I’d gotten some pro tips from other women ultra runners to change out of any wet sports bras before dark, so I stopped long enough at Damascus to do a full outfit change (thank you to Sally Sauer and the other volunteers who brought pop-up changing tents! You’re the best ❤️) Except…well…pullover sports bras when you’re tired and sweaty are a pain so thank heavens McCrae was there to help me get out of a literal bind, lol.
Full outfit change completed, gloves and arm warmers and jacket stowed in my pack, water and Gatorade replenished, and a cup of ramen acquired, and I was ready to go! By then Amy had caught up with me, so she, McCrae, and I ran off together using some intervals and I felt so dang good!
Damascus to Whitetop (Miles 49 to 67)
“Now here’s the thing about Michael. Michael is a strong runner. Michael is a sub-3 hour marathoner, so he can run almost twice as fast as me. But Michael is also a good friend and was willing to go what was probably a painfully slow pace for him...Uphill. For 14 miles. In the cold and the dark.”
Arriving at Straight Branch with McCrae and a couple other runners
I had planned to pick up Michael, my first planned pacer, at Taylor Valley (mile 56), but when my crew looked at the map (and we heard a rumor Taylor Valley is haunted 👻) they figured it was much easier to drive to Straight Branch (mile 53.5) which is right off a country highway, so that’s where Michael and Magdalena met me. I was so grateful that McCrae ran those few miles with me and Amy from Damascus to Straight Branch and was a little sad to see him go and to split with Amy, but I was looking forward to running with Michael.
Now here’s the thing about Michael. Michael is a strong runner. Michael is a sub-3 hour marathoner, so he can run almost twice as fast as me. But Michael is also a good friend and was willing to go what was probably a painfully slow pace for him to pace me on my first 100 miler. Uphill. For 14 miles. In the cold and the dark.
Michael, you are a champ!
I arrived at Straight Branch a little after 6:30pm — still almost an hour ahead of the 24 hour pace — downed some food (nut butter or oatmeal or both), and Michael and I set a strong pace doing 3:2 intervals. I was so grateful for Michael’s strong and steady presence to propel me forward, and I was shocked by how strong I felt running uphill non-stop, overtaking other runners. Who even am I?! I’m usually a back-of-the-packer! What am I doing going this fast?! But I still felt good, so I kept going.
The section of Virginia Creeper Trail between Whitetop and Damascus is probably the most scenic of the whole trail (with the brief exception of the cow farm near Abingdon with wide open rolling pastures). It’s a wide dirt and gravel trail through a lush green tunnel with plenty of views of the rushing mountain stream and tall rock features and well-laid trestle bridges. On a bike from Whitetop to Damascus it is a delightfully leisurely downhill ride, and the first few miles of the race that morning it was downright glorious. But at mile 50 or so? Going uphill? Actually yeah, it was still darn pretty and enjoyable! We ran through open fields and the woods through sunset, and at one point we supposedly were right next to a bear; in the gloam of late evening we saw a few runners ahead of us stopped in the middle of the trail and pointing to the river.
“What are they looking at?” I asked, and over the rush of water I heard the word “bear.”
“Bear?!” I said, getting excited. “BEAR! Hey bear! Here bear! Heeeeere, bear bear bear! What a good bear!” The guys pointed at a log and said the bear had gone under it, but I was disappointed that I couldn’t see it. I rather like bears (and bear hugs, but maybe not bear hugs from bears).
Soon though, the crepuscular light gave way to full night, and as we crossed some wide trestles we covered our headlamps and looked up at the stars which seemed so much brighter and closer than they ever did back home.
“Michael and Magdalena had a surprise for me: they had a ton of recorded messages from my friends who offered encouragement, fun facts, riddles, and puzzles! ”
At some point Michael announced he and Magdalena had a surprise for me: they had a ton of recorded messages from my friends who offered encouragement, fun facts, riddles, and puzzles! My friend Cheryl, who is a chemistry professor, kicked off the messages with a brain teaser:
Q: You have two strings and a lighter. Each string takes one hour to burn, but they burn at variable rates. So for example, after 30 minutes, you have no idea how much of the string has burnt. Using just the two strings and the lighter, determine when exactly 45 minutes have passed.
I actually rather enjoyed having a brain teaser to ponder! Except that my brain was so mushy from all the miles that the answer stayed just out of grasp, so we played the next recording where Cheryl explained the answer:
A: Light both ends of one string. At the same time, light one end of the other string. Once the first string is consumed, 30 minutes have passed. At that point, light the other end of the second string. Once the second string is consumed, 15 more minutes have passed for a total of 45 minutes.
💡Brilliant! Duh! Why didn’t I think of that? 😜
We continued our uphill in-the-dark adventure with kind words and encouragement from friends afar as fuel. My friend Martin gave me lots of fun facts, such as sloths can hold their breath for fourteen minutes (which is longer than how long dolphins can hold their breath) and he also explained the old British monetary system with pounds and shillings and ha’pennies and what-not which I found SUPER interesting (not a joke; it always drove me crazy that I didn’t understand money references in BritLit) but I couldn’t for the life of me remember any of the details after he explained it 😂
Right before Green Cove I was surprised to find I was out of water (apparently I hadn’t been paying attention to how quickly I’d gone through the bladder since Alvarado) but fortunately it wasn’t far to the next aid station. It was also getting darned cold — a sensation that was exacerbated by inefficient thermoregulation caused by fatigue. At this point I was bundled up in my arm warmers, gloves, and jacket, and I was both excited for and envious of runners coming down from Whitetop. Once more a cup of hot ramen from the aid station was greatly appreciated, and then we were off to get to the top of Whitetop!
Whitetop to Taylor Valley (Miles 66 to 77)
At Whitetop (mile 66) it was so cold! But I felt good for my longest run ever! 💪 At this point I had lost some time but I was still about 30 mins ahead of the 24 hour pace time. I was bewildered that I was still on pace, but didn't want to set it as a goal since there were so many unknowns ahead. Once again though I was headed to the bathrooms. I’d opted to skip the pit toilets at Green Cove because of the long line and horrible smell; I had remembered there were pit toilets at Whitetop just past the turnaround point, and I took a gamble that an extra tenth of a mile walk would give me a less foul smell and a good chance of finding toilet paper (✅ and ✅!)
We met up with Magdalena and resupplied a bit; I took a swig at a mini can of Coca-Cola and almost spit it out. Usually I enjoy a few sips of nice cold Coke, but for some reason I couldn’t taste any of the sweetness, it just tasted like acid. I sipped at it some more hoping it would get better before I dumped it out. Then we swapped pacers, and Magdalena and I headed down the mountain. More messages from my friends = ❤️❤️❤️ so much gratitude and happiness as we ticked through miles 66 to 77. Cheryl gave me another puzzle, and this time I knew the answer!
Q: A person has two cubes at their desk. Every day they arrange both cubes so that the front faces show the current day of the month. If the day is a single digit, it must have a leading zero, so for example, 07. What numbers are on the faces of the cubes to allow this?
“Oh oh oh! I know the answer to this!” I exclaimed. “My mom used to have calendar cubes and I used to play with them as a kid!” I started to talk through the puzzle aloud: “Each cube has to have 0 for the leading zero, and 1 and 2, since you can have 11 and 22. Cubes have six faces, so then that means the first cube is 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5. And the second cube is 0, 1, 2, 6, 7, and…8? Wait a sec, what about 9? Shoot. I forget. But it has to be this.”
A: Turns out I was right, and the 6 can either be a 6 or turned upside down to make 9. Duuuuuuhhhhh, Liz. What are you, tired and sleep-deprived or something?
“I was happy — so very happy — that I could be on such an amazing adventure and that I could carry all these amazing people with me in my heart”
It was peaceful running in the dark with Magdalena with the sound of rushing water next to us in the mountain stream. At one of the trestles we turned off our lights and stood in awe of the stars and the rising moon and the roar of water. And Magdalena shared recordings from good friends whose encouragement went straight to my heart — words from Taylor and Laura and Nicole and Nora and Susan and so many more. Magdalena also played clips from my best friend’s two oldest kids (to whom I am “Auntie Liz”) — Jack told me about his day at school and Stella sang a song for me. And I was happy — so very happy — that I could be on such an amazing adventure and that I could carry all these amazing people with me in my heart. I am so incredibly grateful for you all ❤️
Taylor Valley to Alvarado (Miles 77 to 91)
Taylor Valley is supposedly haunted. In the week or so leading up to the race I had been keeping an eye on the Yeti Trail Runners Facebook group to catch any last minute tips or ideas, and at some point someone posted a link to a ghost story. The original is worth the read, but the gist is that supposedly a farmer near Taylor Valley in the early 1900s killed his wife by beheading her, and her ghost now walks the valley in a long white dress with her head held under her arm.
The Taylor Valley aid station is also at the top of a long, steep driveway. So while the aid station itself looked inviting, between the ghost story and the steep driveway and the time crunch and the fact that McCrae and Amy P. were waiting for me in the parking lot down the road (and there was a port-a-potty in the parking lot, oh boy!) the Taylor Valley aid station was a hard pass for me. McCrae and Amy patched me up with supplies, I put on warmer clothes (a long-sleeve shirt and a warmer Craft jacket; my body was definitely not focused on thermoregulation at that point) and I somewhat foolishly decided to change shoes. I had been changing into fresh socks regularly and my feet felt good, but I could tell they were starting to swell so I thought changing from the Altra Timps* to the Altra Lone Peaks* would give me a little more room in the toebox (spoiler alert: this ends badly.)
At this point I was pretty much exactly at the 24 hour pace and I felt it slipping away, but I was so grateful to have run so strong so far for my first attempt. Amy P. and I set off doing okay with intervals, but I started to really struggle with fatigue and the late night/early morning. Whenever I have done an overnight run or all-nighter I've always struggled with that 3am to 5am block, and I definitely felt it this time. At first, my brain started to slow and I had trouble processing what was in front of me (basically, it was the most intense game of “stick or snake” of my life!) Next, I started seeing patterns that weren’t there — piles of sticks and leaves began to spell out words like “nerd” and “wed” and “help.” At one point in the underbrush I thought I saw a weasel, but didn’t want to say anything to Amy because I was sure I was mistaken — though now that I’m home and have access to Google it turns out weasels are not uncommon in Virginia so it’s possible I actually saw one. My friend Kandace claims she was seeing or hallucinating cats in the woods all night, so stranger things have happened.
Between the fatigue and the stomach cramps, it was hard to get food down, and the only things I could really tolerate were Gatorade and gummies. My teeth were starting to feel sensitive from all the sugar swirling in my mouth; I was half-convinced they were rotting in my skull. Coming into Damascus we passed several people who were walking…well, sideways is the best way to put it. They really hadn’t been kidding about wearing the bracelet so they knew we were walking sideways because we were ultrarunners. Many also looked like they were sometimes micro-napping — very brief (a few seconds or less) moments of falling asleep mid-activity. It was a strange, strange world at 4am, with my own field of focus narrowing more and more to what was directly ahead of me. I was extremely grateful that I had pacers for this race; I couldn’t imagine the intense challenge of going through all this alone.
“It was a strange, strange world at 4am, with my own field of focus narrowing more and more to what was directly ahead of me”
Coming through Damascus at mile 84 with Amy P.! At this point I’m definitely grimacing instead of smiling, lol
At the Damascus aid station (mile 84) Amy encouraged me to eat something. All the junk food — cookies, potato chips, candy, etc. — looked absolutely disgusting to me, and while I was still forcing down Gatorade and gummies, I was starting to fade. Everything was unappealing; I was having trouble with fatigue, so caffeine was suggested, but with my stomach cramps I was sure coffee would result in me curled up in a ditch somewhere. Tailwind was an option as a “lighter” liquid calorie drink than Gatorade, but I’ve only used Tailwind once before and it didn’t sit well, so I didn’t feel ready to experiment again (note to self: Experiment with Tailwind and other liquid calories during next training cycle). The only thing that sounded remotely appealing was a small cup of broth and a couple slices of bacon, so that’s what I went with.
84 miles. 84 miles! The finish line seemed so close but so far away! We left the Damascus aid station with intervals set, but I couldn’t manage the intervals for very long. The world swam before my eyes and I completely lost focus as my brain tried so hard to shut down. I caught myself micro-napping; there were times where I just closed my eyes — just for a few seconds, I told myself — and let my feet keep moving, but I had to snap myself awake from the seductive lull of sleep. There were other times that I looked ahead and the world was just a blur, like watching a video that someone accidentally recorded while running erratically, everything melting together completely unintelligible. When I faltered, Amy asked me, “Liz, when you write about this later, what are you going to say?”
“It’s hard,” I answered. “I don’t know.”
But I tried to shake myself firmly. To ground myself somehow in the moment. I looked up; the trail was running along cow pastures and behind some small industrial business so there was a brief break in the trees. I couldn’t make sense of what was immediately around me, but oh gosh the sky! The stars, the darkness, the waning gibbous moon, and there, low on the horizon just above the trees, was Saturn glowing orange and bigger and brighter than I’d ever seen with its cockeyed rings.
“The stars, the darkness, the waning gibbous moon, and there, low on the horizon just above the trees, was Saturn glowing orange and bigger and brighter than I’d ever seen with its cockeyed rings”
I kept pushing forward — relentless forward progress — but I felt hot spots blooming on the soles of my feet, two silver dollar sized spots, one on each foot at the base of my third toes. I shouldn’t have changed shoes at Taylor Valley, I realized. And I was getting colder. I asked Amy to text in two requests for me to McCrae at the AirBnB next to Alvarado: my Lone Peak Timps and a pair of sweatpants. Though, to be honest, I wasn’t even sure if I actually had any sweatpants. They weren’t in my running supplies, but I had a vague memory of packing some Adidas track pants the weekend before when I volunteered at Table Rock and a feeling that I never unpacked those pants in my suitcase. It was worth asking for them at least.
Alvarado to Abingdon (Miles 92 to 100)
Resupplying and switching pacers at Alvarado
At the AirBnB by Alvarado McCrae met us on the trail (with the Adidas track pants! Game changer!!), my Timps, hand warmers that I slipped inside my gloves, and a resupply of Gatorade, and we left Amy at the cabin so that McCrae could start pacing me. I stopped once more at the pit toilets at Alvarado and was extremely grateful that someone had restocked the bathroom with a roll of double ply toilet paper (whoever you are, you’re an angel!)
At this point I had single digits left -- 9 miles! But holy smokes those were the hardest 9 miles. My body was revolting with every step and it was a fight to force my brain and body to not shut down. Between the blisters and the fatigue my pace slowed to a death march. But when I staggered and seemed to falter, McCrae reached out and held my hand and it grounded me enough to keep pushing forward.
I knew I was slowing down immensely, and the sub-24 hour goal became a distant dream, but despite all the pain, all the blisters, all the stomach cramps, all the grit, I was grateful for the journey, for the friends who helped me along the way. I told McCrae there was no way I could run, and he said, “That’s fine. We’re just out on an early morning walk with Ryder. It’s just us on an easy sunrise hike, except you got to skip all the crappy parts of waking up and putting clothes on.” And I laughed, so incredibly grateful he was there with me.
To try to stay awake, I started babbling and singing (very terribly). I made up a chant:
“Give me a B! Give me a U! Give me a C! Give me a K! Give me an L! Give me an E! What’s that spell? BUCKLE! Buckle! I’m going to get a buckle!” I was singing this haphazardly when a runner passed me; I’m sure they thought I’d cracked.
Another time I started singing, “99 miles of trail left to run, 99 miles of trail! Take one down, pass it around, 98 miles of trail left to run,” and I kept it up for a few rounds before I apologized to McCrae for singing such an annoying song. But honestly? It helped a lot; it was a simple enough song that I could sing with little focus but it kept me slightly alert, and, as McCrae pointed out, it was pretty darn appropriate for the event.
Just before we came to the big open cow farm, I started singing “American Pie.” I’m not entirely sure why, but I often sing that song to keep myself company. I think my dad used to sing it when I was a kid — he has such a lovely singing voice, perfect for the folk rock ballads — and I remember mistaking the chorus for a lullaby and asking him what a levee was and what rye was and being totally confused when he tried to explain the nuances between whiskey and bourbon and rye. I remember my latchkey kid days when I would get off the bus and walk the long gravel drive to my house, let myself inside, and the first thing I would do was put on some records; more often than not, Don McLean’s “American Pie” was the first song I played, and I’d drop my schoolbag and dance in the middle of the dark living room. I remember in college when my friend Lauren and I drove through UNC’s campus and “American Pie” came on the radio and we sang it together, harmonizing a bit, feeling nostalgia already for the day we were living. I wish I could sing the whole thing a capella; I can sing along whenever the song plays, but when it’s just me I can only faithfully remember the lyrics through the second chorus. But as I sighed out the final lines of the second chorus, McCrae said, “look” and there in the east dawn streaked pink and gold over the rolling neat pastures and we could hear cows lowing in the barn, and I felt the warmth and steadiness of McCrae’s hand in mine.
“[I]n the east dawn streaked pink and gold over the rolling neat pastures and we could hear cows lowing in the barn, and I felt the warmth and steadiness of McCrae’s hand in mine”
My friend Amy passed me around that time, still running, and I was THRILLED to see her! (“Go Amy, go!!”) and as the sun rose exhaustion still gnawed at me and the world still blurred, but it was at least marginally easier to stay awake. But time was meaningless; I had no concept of space or pace, no real understanding of time. I only knew I had to keep moving. The world narrowed until it was just one footstep after the other, with a few brief moments when the world flashed into my consciousness in a bizarre way: the rows of boulders that felt like I was walking through an avenue of sleeping giants, the swish of Magdalena’s blanket around her shoulders when she and Michael stopped briefly at a trail intersection to cheer us on, the whisper of crisp leaves swirling at my feet, the occasional fresh-faced runner from Abingdon out for a Saturday morning run.
I searched impatiently for the golf course, knowing it would only be a couple miles from Abingdon, and then I searched for the overpasses and then the park, and then finally — FINALLY — there was the finish line arch, and I was overwhelmed with emotion. Of gratitude and love for everyone who has supported me, of thankfulness to the race director and the volunteers for making the race happen, of gratitude to my body for getting me to the finish line, of hunger and success and joy and pain. I am not ashamed to admit I ugly-cried across that finish line and into the warm hugs from the race director and my husband and my crew. I was far too exhausted to feel great joy or happiness at the moment, but instead it was a blur of relief, of pain, of immense gratitude, of…it’s not exactly pride or satisfaction, but there’s some facet of indescribable emotion in there, some deep knowledge and fulfillment. To know that I can do hard things. To know that I belong. To know that I am enough.
“[T]here’s some facet of indescribable emotion in there, some deep knowledge and fulfillment. To know that I can do hard things. To know that I belong. To know that I am enough.”
It’s enough to make anyone ugly-cry. And I couldn't have done this without you ❤️
The Aftermath/Denouement
Perhaps the hardest part of running 100 miles is to stop running. To sit for a moment and realize how hard it is to get up again. To peel off shoes and socks from your intensely swollen feet and find your soles purple from blood that has pooled in them. To simultaneously want food and a shower and a nap but not have the energy to do any of those things. To stare at your shiny new buckle. To try to tell your crew how amazing they are but instead you sound like a bumbling baby (“bababa gah lah McCrae and Michael and Magdalena” 😂). To feel both hollowed out and full.
I’m not going to lie: after I finished I felt completely wrecked. My crew stopped at Bojangles for some quick breakfast, and McCrae kept cajoling me to stay awake, stay awake until we get to the cabin. When we got back to the AirBnB my legs felt completely useless; I could run 100 miles, but I couldn’t walk 20 feet from the car to the front door, much less go up a set of stairs (I totally sat down and butt-scootched my way up the stairs, I’m not ashamed). I opted for shower, nap, then food, which was apparently the wrong order of operations because when I finally woke up and walked to the kitchen I almost passed out (so yeah, for future races it will be some small bit of food first, then shower then nap).
Celebratory cookie cake!! Thanks Michael and Magdalena for the surprise! 🍪❤️
I had the AirBnB booked until Sunday, and it was so nice to have the rest of the day to just relax and recover. To lounge in squishy chairs and watch the Ryder Cup golf tournament and college football. To leisurely pick up my drop bag from Damascus. To have a celebratory family-style taco dinner with my crew on the screened-in porch overlooking the Creeper Trail and the river. To sleep. To dream.
To wake up hungry and be ready to begin again.
Thank you again to my crew and pacers (McCrae, Michael, Magdalena, and Amy), to all my friends who supported me and sent in messages (Emily, Jack, Stella, Cheryl, Martin, Nicole, Susan, Laura, Nora, Jordan, Edith, Elly, Randy, Robin, Taylor, Mimi, and Zach), to the race director (Jason Green) and volunteers, to my gracious AirBnB hosts, and to all the friendly folks of Damascus and Abingdon. Thank you to Appalachian Exposures for the high quality images and to everyone who shared pictures from the race. Thank you to Fleet Feet Carrboro/Durham for all the training programs leading up to this and the summer and fall trail programs this year! And thank you to my coach Heather Hart of Hart Strength & Endurance! Huge congratulations to all my fellow runners! Regardless of time or distance, we are all brave and ambitious! Keep going, and I’ll see you out there ❤️
Pilot Mountain State Park in North Carolina is a popular place for hikers and runners, and is one of my favorite spots. It is close to Winston-Salem and has a very distinctive profile that lends it nicely as a landmark for navigation, and can be easily seen from some places in the Blue Ridge Mountains.