May 19, 2018. MMT 100 – A race against cut-offs, Poop-athon, and DNF.

Prologue.

So, are you ready for your next 100? A question I asked myself on Thursday, on the way to Virginia for MMT 100. I said to myself, that’s a question I would have the answer on Sunday, May 20, 2018.

Start.

The race starts on Saturday, 4AM and ends on Sunday, 4PM – a 36 hour cut-off for a 100 103+ mile race. With bad weather the whole week leading up to Saturday, the course would be unforgiving. True enough, the moment we stepped outside the staging tent, we already have our shoes wet with ankle deep puddles.

The 1st 4 miles of the race was on the road, with a gradual incline before hitting the trails. There was some drizzle, giving us runners some blessing for what’s to come ahead.

Mile 20.3 – Woodstock Tower.

The first 12 miles to Ediburg Gap aid station was a blur. We had our headlamps on, and a big string of runners ahead and behind. I don’t recall much on this, since it was a typical start. Some runners going fast, some runners going slow. I was in the middle of the pack. Before reaching the Woodstock Tower aid station, mile 20.3, mother nature called me. It would be the first of many. At this stage, I said it’s ok, just part of my morning ritual. Ate something at the aid station. Then, not long after the aid station, I had another urge to go. What? So I went. This would be followed by more stomach growling and nature calling aid station after aid station. I don’t remember much about the first half except that the spirit started to go down so I’d just jumped directly to the Habron Gap aid station, mile 54.0.

Mile 54.0 – Habron Gap.

I was totally dejected when I reached Habron Gap. It was ~7:30PM – over 15 hours since start, and lots of nature calls. First thing I did was go straight to the porta-john. With my condition, I was having lots of doubts if I could even get to the next aid station if I decided to continue. The next aid station was 9 miles. Philip and Ray came. I told Philip I’m just going to power hike and see if I could get to the next aid station. DNF was already an option. At least just get to the next aid station, Camp Roosevelt, mile 63.9, I said. The event is wicked enough to give you a credit for getting to this aid station. It’s called the ‘Visitor Award’, which serves as a reminder ‘to entice you back another year to be more than a visitor to the MMT 100‘.

I stayed with Philip and Ray on this section. Mostly. Until I have to go again. And then tried to catch up. Again. Grrrowwwll, ooooops, gotta go. Again.

Mile 63.9 – Camp Roosevelt. Cut-off – 1:15AM.

I managed to stay with Philip and Ray up to the next aid station, Camp Roosevelt, mile 63.9. It was past 11PM. First thing I asked upon arrival at the aid station, “Is there a porta-potty here?“. There was, but about 250 meters off course, a volunteer said. That’s about 500 meters out and back. Too far. It also started to rain. I put on my jacket, Philip his poncho. After replenishing our supplies, we headed back to the trail. And about 250 meters on the course, I really had to go. I told Philip to go ahead. I caught them, eventually. We dropped Ray. Sergey caught us on the next big climb. We saw a lady who was really in bad shape. She was throwing up, hard. At least there was someone with her (her pacer I believe). I would see her again on the next aid station, before I left. On this big climb, I got dropped behind because nature called me once again. I did a solo hike the rest of the way to the next aid station. Getting to the next aid station brought me to another low. “I won’t make it“, I thought.

Mile 69.6 – Gap Creek/Jawbone. Cut-off – 3:45AM.

I reached Gap Creek/Jawbone aid station past 2AM. No sign of Philip and Sergey. There was a big gap since my last nature call. By now, they were way ahead. I sat down, and rested. Contemplating (again) whether to continue or not. It would be daytime arriving at the next aid station. Ok, at least, I would do 24 hours and see daytime. Perhaps, I would get some 2nd wind with daytime. So I changed shoes/socks. Another reason to continue was I wanted to see what Philip described as the ridge running on this section. I thought it was an open plateau-like section atop the mountain, like the Schunnemunk Mtn in NY – something I really enjoy. Ray came as I was about to leave. I asked him if he wanted to have some companion. He was ok with walking with me, so I waited for him to gather himself. We left the aid station together. We were just talking about getting to the next aid station. Not finishing. Both of us said, “I’d stop if they ask me to stop, otherwise, I’ll continue and keep going, even after cut-off“. It was another nasty climb, and I dropped Ray at some point. After the nasty climb, and about 4AM Sunday, I said “I already have 24 hours. I’m ok with whatever miles I’d cover“. I took some advils. I have accepted the scenario that the journey would end at the next aid station. Then a calm voice whispered, “Try. Just try.” What? I did some calculations and, yes, perhaps if I try, it was still possible to finish. JUST TRY. And with that, I felt some surge of energy, and was able to pick up the pace a little. Two old men passed me. They were fresh. One of them asked me my name. I asked them if they are the course sweeper. They said no – “You have plenty of time.” So I kept moving. The last 2 or 3 miles to the next aid station was on road. My stomach growled and I had to go (again), and so I did – on a clear side just off the road! And before reaching the aid station, I was surprised to see Philip. No Sergei. I guess he was also hurting. We walked/jogged to the next aid station.

Mile 78.1 – Visitor Center.

Philip and I reached the Visitor Center aid station, mile 78.1, at 6AM. Time to lighten the load and remove the extra weights – headlamp, handheld, jacket, extra clothes, emergency blanket, etc. All went back to the drop bag. Even emptied the bladder. Ate some breakfast. Made some mental calculations, and off we went, for a short but steep climb.

Mile 81.6 – Bird Knob.

This next station was just brutal. A short but really steep climb to Bird Knob. It was like Mt Tammany + some. 1+ mile going up, 1+ mile going down. And then the aid station. It took us almost 2 hrs to cover this 3+ miles.

Mile 87.9 – Picnic Area. Cut-Off – 11AM.

We were on race mode after Bird Knob, still thinking of cut-off time. We said we needed to reach the next aid station, Picnic Area, mile 87.9, before 10AM. I almost lost Philip because I had to go again. Arriving at the aid station, around 9:45AM, we saw Ryan. For some reason, his presence gave us a boost. I changed socks, asked for advils and immodium, and took a quick bite of bacon and french toast. Ryan slipped something in my drop bag, which I thought was some pastries he showed us in our private group chat. This turned out to be Philip’s dirty socks, which I found out after cleaning up my gear post-race! The last 9 miles to the next aid station would be the deciding factor whether we would finish within the cut-off or not. Our target was to get to the next (and last) aid station, Gap Creek/Jawbone II, before 1PM (1 hour before aid station cut-off).

This section was also on race mode. So we hustled. We saw one runner ahead. He was moving fast. He became our rabbit. Philip chased him. I was behind Philip. All the pain was ignored. We passed the rabbit. And on another climb, the poo-fighter had to go again. I told Philip to go and I would catch him. “Please make this the last one“, I prayed. I eventually caught Philip near the aid station.

Mile 96.8 – Gap Creek/Jawbone II. Cut-Off – 2PM.

We reached Gap Creek/Jawbone II aid station, mile 96.9, at around 12:45PM, with 1:15 hours before cut-off and 3+ hours to finish the last 7 miles. Only at this point did I feel some relief. No matter what happens from here to finish, we would finish under the cut-off. Refilled my flasks with Ginger Ale and water, nothing more. I believed Philip did the same. We could not take anything any more. And for the next 7 miles, we only have that – Ginger Ale and water.

We decided to walk this last section. No more running. It was still a technical and steep 1.5 mile ascent, followed by a very techinical ~2 miles descent. The last 4? miles would be on the road descending back to the camp. We just walked. The sun was up. Humidity was high. No breeze. It was at this point where I began hallucinating and daydreaming. I was seeing things – trees becoming people, phantom signs started to appear, what is that thing ahead?. The worst was when I thought I was not in a race. I was just walking. I didn’t even know where I was. Just walking on the street, seeing things. Seriously.

Mile 103.7. Finish. Cut-off – 4PM.

I woke up when Philip and I entered the path back to the Caroline Furnace camp. Less than a mile to go to the finish. When we reached the last grassy area to the finish line, the crowd at the staging tent were all cheering. The beauty of the ultra-running community. It doesn’t matter whether you finish first or last, everyone is there for you. Philip and I crossed the finish line @ 35:24.02 hours.

Epilogue 0 – The Course.

Rocks.
Massanutten Rocks, the sign says. I thought it was because Massanutten rocks! Now I think it’s because Massanutten is all rocks. Welcome to the East Coast!

Stream Crossings.
What stream crossings? I am fortunate to be on the tall side. If you’re a small runner, you’d be doing some river crossings, not stream crossings. Oh yeah, there were streams. But it’s either you’re going down with it, or going up against it, right in the middle.

Log Crossings.
Were these done on purpose? Downed trees that are in a position that you can’t hop over them, but you have to crawl under them. Crawl, like in an obstacle course. Try to do this when it’s almost impossible to bend anymore.

Epilogue 1 – DFL.

Philip and I thought we would be the DFL (Dead-Fucking-Last). We were thinking of the runners we passed and/or left at the aid stations, especially at the last 2 aid stations. Would they still make it? Would they have time? And one by one, runners started to arrive. And again, big cheers from the camp. Hats off to these runners. They were behind us, but they are more badass in my mind. They beat all odds getting to the finish. I can’t imagine the effort they have put on the last miles to the finish. Big congrats!

Epilogue 2 – Emotions.

When Philip and I entered the path to Caroline Furnace camp, he cried. He just let go of himself, with all the emotions pouring in. It really meant something to him. We hugged. At that moment, I was just too tired, hungry, and sleepy, to feel anything. And you know what, on my way home, driving, and trying to compose these fragments about the race, I cried. That’s when I felt it. MMT 100 – you made us cry.

Epilogue 3 – My poop-athon.

I pooped 13 (or 14?) times on the trail. I guess this holds the record on MMT 100?

What I like about my poop fiasco is that it was not a screaming diarrhea, like something that would go without a warning. it was a friendly diarrhea. It gave me some rumbling sound, warning me that I have 5 minutes before the blast. Plenty of time to find a spot on the trail. Grrrroowwwwllll… and with eyes of an eagle, hey that looks like a good spot!

Epiloge 4 – The volunteers.

Words are not enough to really show the appreciation I have for the volunteers, but I’d give it a try. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. There was one volunteer who said, “Just leave everything there and I’d take care of it.” “Including my dirty socks?” I asked. She just smiled. This is going beyond what is asked of them.

Thank you for having spare baby wipes, too 🙂

Epilogue 5 – Next Hundo.

Are you freaking crazy ?!?!?!

Lastly…

Thank YOU for being there with me all the time. For the calm voice that brought me back – Just Try.

Thank YOU.