As the 2018 race approached, the forecast bounced around in terms of precipitation, ranging from heavy to light morning showers, but the predicted temperature remained pretty constant. It was calling for temperatures in the 40s on the summit in the late morning, with 20+ mph winds, and the low 70s back in Black Mountain for the finish. The temperature at the start would be in the 50s. So, this was going to be a much warmer year than I'd faced here in quite some time.
Though by Friday night the forecast only called for light showers with accumulations less than 0.1", I decided to take a small, very lightweight jacket in my pack, along with a dry shirt in a Ziploc bag. I guess 2009 was in the back of my mind when what began with moderate temperatures with minor rainfall, changed dramatically up above the Parkway and the gear I had just wasn't sufficient. Beyond those two items, everything else was standard fare--bottles with Tailwind, a couple Huma gels, some chewy granola bars and S-caps. I did make a last minute decision to put a cap in my pack as well. If I get into harder rains, it gets in my eyes and messes with my contacts. I elected to not carry my phone this year so I have no course pictures to put into this writeup.
In terms of preparedness, I was in pretty good shape, I believe. I'd had a few good long runs (including the 32-mile Maple Sally Loop) with Dennis and Brian where I was pushed to run most of the time and not necessarily walk the hills. I'd also had a twenty miler up from Old Fort to the Parkway with my local running buddies. While these weren't six hour-plus runs up the highest peak east of the Mississippi, they weren't casual greenway runs either.
Lee met me at my house at 5:15 and we loaded up and made the 45 minute drive to Black Mountain, with just a brief pit stop at the rest area in Marion. Though we arrived at the finish line parking area in plenty of time to walk to the start, our actual arrival at the start line on Cherry Street was pretty close to the 7:00 a.m. start time. We ran into Sheryl and Ed at the start. I hadn't seen Sheryl since Ed and I crewed and paced her at Grindstone several years earlier. It didn't hit me until later that I could have introduced Lee to them, since he did the same for me when I ran Grindstone in 2016. Other people I saw and knew at the start included Brandon Smith and Greg Little. I was only able to speak to them briefly. I saw Sean Blanton but didn't have a chance to speak with him.
At the start, there was a brief moment of silence in honor the recent passing of Billy Graham, a long-time resident in Montreat. Interestingly, his body would be coming through Black Mountain during the race, on its way from Asheville to Charlotte. After that, we were off. I had several goals for the day, beyond simply finishing. The primary goal was to run more than I usually do--not give into the temptation to walk. Since my Salomon Speedcross 3s had come apart in the toe area, I pulled out the Salomon XA Enduro shoes. These are extremely comfortable shoes that have built-in gaiters (might be useful for the rain and mud) but I did blame them for some knee problems at Weymouth Woods the month before. I hung my hopes that if they were responsible for the knee issues, the distance of this race would be short enough to where it didn't become a problem.
Not knowing anyone near me, I just settled into my own thing as we ran up Highway 9 towards Montreat (and Mount Mitchell.) It's amazing how I ended up relatively close to the start and yet I could see what looked like 100 people ahead of me. Jay Curwen said that 200 Challengers and 250 Marathoners register. Some, of course, don't show, but figure at least 400 people were at the start on this day. The temperatures were pleasant for running as the clouds settled in and brought the humidity. I ran steadily to roughly mile three where we hit the big paved hill to the trailhead and then dropped back to a power hike.
Once on the trail, it was similar to every other year. Runners shuffled positions off and on, but always politely, yet no one seemed to go by and pull ahead out of sight. Based on the course map and general descriptions we have, roughly the first three miles are paved and the first aid station is around mile 6.5, so this section of trail is roughly 3.5 miles long. It certainly feels it. While nice to run along, it seems to continue on forever--despite my increasing familiarity with it, having run it so often. I was happy with the pace of the pack I was in, so except for one or two passes, I just went with the flow.
I felt really good early on. Sometimes I feel like I am going a little faster than my fitness level at this point, setting myself up for problems later, but this year, it felt like a maintainable pace. I felt so good that the first aid station actually came up quicker (in perceived if not actual time) than usual. Here, I topped off my water bottle and tossed the wrapper from the gel I had quickly downed before reaching the tables. I saw two people volunteering who knew me but I totally blanked on their names. I'm going to blame it on running exertion, but it's more likely my terrible name memory. New this year was a chute as we exited the aid station onto the Toll Road (like a Toll Bridge?) They were checking our bibs here and funneling us through the chute. It didn't make sense unless it was to keep runners from slipping by unaccounted for? I don't think they can close the trail for the race? Or can they?
I like the next mile or two because we can spread out a bit. It's road-width and you really don't have to watch your footing much. In past years, it's been muddy or snowy many times, but today, it was just dry leaves. The majority of this stretch went by uneventfully. I eventually fell in behind two women running together and we were going the same speed. We spoke only briefly at first, and I zoned out as they talked about birthday parties and other things that didn't interest me much. Having them ahead of me, pulling, and my zoning out, made the second aid station, roughly mile 10.25, come up very quickly. They went through it about as quickly as I did so we were in the same formation on the opposite side, with them just ahead.
We talked a little more during the next few miles, exchanging names (Sophie and Keelin.) I learned that they had each been first and second, respectively, in prior Black Mountain Marathons. At first, I misunderstood that one of them was doing the Challenge this year, but later learned that they were both in the Marathon. The off-and-on conversation helped pass the time through this constant, and sometimes rocky, climb. Usually, on this stretch, I am overrunning my training and I have to walk some spots to settle myself down. Their pace and the distraction of conversation, kept me running through it all. Knowing the course better than they did, I was able to assure them that we were almost near the turnaround when I saw the old RVs near the top of the climb. We had seen a few marathoners coming toward us, but no females. I began to suspect they were in or near the front so I asked what was going to happen at the end if they are contending for the win. They said there was at least one female ahead of them and Sophie said that Keelinwas faster and would probably go ahead. This turned out to be true. Keelin finished second in 4:04:27 and Sophie was third in 4:07:50. The wining female time was Jennings Gary's 4:00:42. I wished Keelin "Happy Birthday" and both of them good luck for the rest of their race, encouraging both of them to go for the win as we saw the lead woman just before we reached the aid station at the marathon turnaround.
The turnaround is always an interesting spot because you find out which race all those runners around you are in. Actually, I already knew which race they were in, but it seemed most of the traffic at the aid station was marathoners. With basically just red versus black bib numbers to indicate, it's tough to tell who is in what event.
I made my way onto the parkway alone and feeling pretty good. Just 1/4 mile up the road I saw Jason McDougall from Camp Grier and said hello. He was up in the area camping and came out to watch some of the race. I moved along pretty well as the fog began to settle in. By the time I reached the entrance to Mount Mitchell State Park, visibility was very limited. This was the first time in several years that the Parkway was open during the race, so I did see a few cars at times. The new course meant less time on this road to the summit than in recent years, yet more than on the traditional course, which used the Buncombe Horse Trail. I ran for a bit, power walked a bit, as necessary. It was sort of random when I'd run versus walk, but I did always run when I felt a tail wind. I think it's a bit over two miles on this road to the Ranger Station, where we'd get onto the Old Mitchell Trail--a trail I had never hiked.
There was a small group of about four of us within a few hundred feet of each other when we reached the ranger station. I have to admit that seeing it briefly brought back memories of my DNF so long ago. Like then, there was an aid station nearby, but this time it was on the sidewalk, out front instead of on the Commissary Ridge Trail. Also, this time, I would not be going inside to "just warm up."
The Old Mitchell Trail starts out innocently enough but quickly devolves into a rooty obstacle course that involves climbing up and down rocks, frequent opportunities to wipe out, and a lot of concentration to navigate safely. I had passed at least two of my four-person "pack" at the aid station but one of them came by me fairly early on in the trail and was soon out of sight. I was alone for a while until I started up the Black Mountain Trail that would ordinarily take someone down to Black Mountain Campground. It's part of the MST and pretty steep. I remember doing this trail in heavy ice in 2014 and it was extremely challenging. Today, the only real challenge was the steepness. I heard and saw a couple guys not far behind me, gaining pretty quickly.
When I popped out onto the walkway to the Mount Mitchell Summit, I almost immediately encountered some of the runners I knew to be ahead of me making their way down. We had a few "high fives" and "good jobs" and I jogged on up. I had told Lee before the race that you don't actually go up the observation tower at the summit, but this time, apparently we were supposed to. In fact, the volunteers on the tower were hollering at us as we came up to come up the tower. My bib was checked off as having gone to the summit just after I emerged from the trail so there really wasn't anything for me to do at the top except step in the center and high five the volunteers. Coming down, I wondered how the 4.5 mile run down the road was going to go.
Just below the main parking lot, I saw the last guy to pass me, off to the side, stretching. I asked if he needed anything and he said he was just doing preemptive stretching. He added that he was doing the CDT (Continental Divide Trail, I assume) soon and didn't want to blow out his knees before then. I continued on and he soon passed me and disappeared into the distance. I usually have some trouble on this part of the course. I don't know if it's fatigue, the pavement, or something else, but even with all the downhill, I struggle. This year was going better. I did have a couple very brief walks (ten seconds or less) to fish out my collapsed water bottle for a drink, but I was able to keep a steady jog going the rest of the time--even on the flat stretch that sometimes gets me. It was windy but not to the point of making me cold. Sometimes it would be a headwind and sometimes a tailwind. There was no pattern, so I just ran through it.
As I passed the ranger station, I briefly considered going over and getting something from the aid station. I was a little hungry at this point. Instead, I pulled out my peanut butter bar and ate it as I made my way down the last 2.5 miles toward the Parkway. I passed Don, Sean, and Ed on my way down. At the time, Ed was just ahead of the sweep. Shortly after the sweep, I saw the "CDT" guy come up out of the brush off the side of the road. He had made a pit stop. We briefly talked about how you either had to go off a cliff or up a cliff to do it. He hung with me for a bit and since it was his first time in the race, I let him know what to expect. When we got back to the Parkway and hit the small rise, I told him to go on and I was going to walk for a minute. I thought I'd walk longer than I did but I felt good and didn't see any reason to waste time. Besides, the aid station isn't that far down the road.
Coming into the aid station, I basically just checked in and filled my bottle. I actually passed "CDT" again here but it wasn't long after the aid station that he went by me once again. He joked that I'd catch up at the next aid station and it was like the Tortoise and the Hare. I guess I could have taken offense at having been called a Turtle, but it was true in this case.
Now, I was about ten miles from the finish and for the first time in quite some time in this race, it didn't feel like a long ways left. I was handling the rocky sections fine--no ice or snow to worry about--and I'd encounter marathoners from time to time and speak to them briefly. I was passed eventually by a Challenge runner but kept him in sight and would eventually re-pass him at the Sourwood Gap aid station, when we had about 4-5 miles to go. I was in and out of Sourwood Gap very quickly, getting a little water and some Gatorade. Since my Tailwind had run out, I grabbed a cup of Gatorade at the last several aid stations, needing something with some calories to keep me going. I didn't want to pull out my other trail bar with so little left in the race.
Coming down the steep dirt section after the aid station, I passed a few more marathoners. One asked how far we had left and I told her probably 3.5 miles with the next .5 miles or so being very steep. As I went a little farther, I shouted back that it might be closer to four miles, not wanting to give her false hope. Trying to maintain a controlled descent, I finally reached the asphalt and while I still had to "brake" as I ran, I didn't have to worry about traction so much. At one point, I saw an old friend, Ed McDaniel, sitting roadside and cheering on the runners. I had actually known to look for Ed as we saw him and his family at Friday Friends in Morganton Friday night, having dinner. I high-fived Ed and his wife and continued on, eager to be done. It was in the 70s in the lower elevations and I was drinking a lot. Headwinds really helped keep things cool, especially when the clouds were no longer hiding the sun. I grabbed a last cup of Gatorade at the final aid station and set out on the final, three mile home stretch.
Pretty much every year, I am spent by this point--mentally and physically. It's a long slog and my mood usually isn't very good. This year was different and I was strangely eager to take it on. My pace quickened somewhat and I took to squeezing a little water from my bottle onto my head at times when I heated up. I continued to encounter marathoners and things went well until I encountered something I'd never run into during a race. At first I thought the woman ahead of me on the trail was cramped up and trying to stretch out her thigh muscles. Then, I realized I'm seeing way too much skin. She had decided to make a pitstop right on the side of the nature trail. To her credit, she was not in the middle of the trail, but she was barely off it, to the left. There really isn't much room to go in either direction and her explanation of "I couldn't hold it any longer" seemed explanation enough for me. I apologized for the unintended encounter and pretty much just ran on by, not looking back. I guess she was only thinking of marathoners around her that were running the same pace and likely wouldn't catch up. She didn't consider the Challenge runners who were moving quicker. This was similar to, but a much closer encounter than the one I had in the Bryce Canyon 100.
After the "Nature Trail" sections were done, I hit the side road that can really feel long. They had yard signs up marking 3, 2, and 1 mile to go and they seemed to be passing quickly. Once on this stretch of road, I could see "CDT" ahead of me and while I didn't speed up in an effort to catch him, I did use him as some motivation to keep moving and pushing. By the time we got to the greenway section where they call your name (they look at your bib number and find it on a chart,) I heard someone call him Zach, so I could finally retire the "CDT" nickname.
I slowly gained on Zach and caught up with him at the end of the Greenway, just as we were turning right to go up the short hill back to Highway 9. I explained what was left and hung with him, intent on just finishing with him. Once on Highway 9, traffic was fairly thick and I wondered how we'd get across. Then a lady who I had assumed was just directing us that we needed to cross went out into the road and stopped the cars. A bit surprised, but grateful, I thanked her and we headed toward the little subdivision. I told Zach this was the last hill and he indicated that I should go on ahead. I was torn about doing so, but I really felt good and wanted to finish strong. I didn't know my time and would be disappointed if holding back cost me a sub-six hour finish. I headed on, speeding up as I did so.
Lake Tomahawk was very crowded on this day. I hit the trail for the "victory lap" and when I was on the far side, I looked back to see Zach running with what looked like his family. So, I didn't feel so bad if he had them there to run in with. I continued to press until I could finally see the clock, and know whether there would need to be any finish line surge.
There would be no need. It read 6:10 and change, so I finished with a run, not a sprint. It was a strange day. I honestly felt better start to finish than I ever remember in this race, but my time wasn't significantly different. The new course route is the unknown variable in my finish time. I really got slowed down in that section and don't know how much time it might have cost me compared to the other routes. My best ever time at the race was a 5:53, in 2013, when we ran up and down the Park entrance road and the weather was mild. I hope my feeling good end-to-end wasn't simply because I was moving slower. But, could I have been seventeen minutes faster if I we had run up the entrance road the entire way instead of taking the Old Mitchell Trail? Since there's no way of knowing, I'll just have to be happy to have finished and felt good at the finish.
I keep a spreadsheet of all my race results and found an interesting pattern at Mount Mitchell. Regardless of my finish time in the Challenge (ranging from 5:53:42 to 6:24:46) my finish place has been remarkable consistent: 20, 22, 20, 14, 23, 32, 21, 21. Seems like no matter how I do, I'm almost destined to finish in the 20-23 range. Note: 14th was my fastest time year, but the year I finished 32nd was not my slowest race.
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