Day 4,570-71—Rim to River 100 in West Virginia Complete Edition!—

 

Start time: 4:45 a.m.

Weather: High 40s wind .2 mi/h, Humidity 90%

The Rim to River Part I: Sharp Rocks

       On the morning of the race, I realized I needed a headlamp for the first hour, but I didn’t know where it was, so I looked for as long as I could, then gave up and settled for a small handheld flashlight as a backup. I always keep at least one tiny light in my vest when I am racing, which has been a good policy because I have already had to use it. Before, I would think I could use my phone, but since my phone's battery is always a question mark, it isn’t smart to depend too much on it, and I already use it for my GPS file backup. I have started making a bag specifically for race morning gear, and I need to include a headlamp in the future. I had one in a different location, but I was thinking I would want to use it the night before the race, so I put it somewhere else. 

       I drove down from my tent and parked about .2 miles from the start. When I got out of my car, I immediately dropped my sunglasses and spent the next few minutes trying to find them, but I gave up after a while. I was worried about being cold, so I wore my latex gloves plus regular gloves, and I also carried the hand warmers I used in my tent last night. I don’t remember what I ate the morning of. I most likely was sipping water and eating vegan muffins. 

       The guy didn’t count us down when we got close to the start time. I don’t know if he even sounded a horn or anything. I remember we all started, and I was running with my handheld flashlight, which wasn’t ideal, but I figured it would only be for an hour. What harm could it do? I always forget how much my balance is dependent on a couple of key factors, and what I am holding in my hands always matters when it comes to balance, so it wasn’t long before I started falling and first busted my knee, and then my hand.

Rim to River 100 Part II: Positive Energy Abounds  

The first aid station was 7 miles in, and it was called Concho Rim. At the start of the race, I wore my rain jacket, hat, gloves, and disposable hot pouches. All that gear felt good for the first 15 minutes, but it wasn’t long before I was sweating and taking off my hat and gloves, and thinking about taking off my jacket. In this section, we were still running on the Ace Adventure property, so it wasn’t as scenic as the other sections, but there were some nice rolling hills, and although we had some elevation, nothing to write home about because the incline was so gradual. 

       I immediately started talking to people in that first section, and I met a runner who was telling me about Eastern State in Pennsylvania. I haven’t checked the results yet, but I am pretty sure she won the overall women's division in the race. When I was talking with her, she told me her goal for this one was not to think about time or how she was going to do, and I remember championing that kind of thinking. We exchanged names, and she told me my name would be easy to remember because it was her husband's name. Later in the race, when she ran ahead of me, she shouted encouragement as we crossed paths.

       When I fell and busted my knee, both runners behind me stopped to make sure I was okay. I bounced up, embarrassed that I had fallen, but the other runners' kindness didn’t go unnoticed. When I filled my hydration and dropped my rain jacket at the Concho Rim aid station, the aid workers were amazing, helping me quickly while multiple people asked if I needed anything else.

       My hands were still cold, so I put on my black latex gloves, but I didn’t put on my bike gloves. I knew it was still early in the race, but the sun was out, so I could drop my handheld light, and I was glowing from all the positive energy engulfed in this place.

Rim to River 100 Part III

       I headed towards the Thurmond aid station next. It was about 10.5 miles from Concho Rim. I filled up my water bladder and both my smaller bottles. I was amazed at how many runners I saw without even a hydration vest. Maybe all the summer races I have done have made me more cautious, but overall I drank all my hydration until nightfall. One thing I liked about this race was that, with fewer aid stations, I could spend more time at each one without hurting my time. I used two 500 ml flasks in the front of my vest, which I filled with LMNT mix at each aid station. I also carried my 2-liter CamelBak bladder. For the longer sections, I would put between 1 and 2 liters of water in the bladder. I saw plenty of other runners carrying only 1 or 2 water bottles, but this race had multiple sections around 10 miles between aid stations, so carrying this much hydration was necessary for my body. It was colder, so depending on how much water you lose when you’re running, you might not need to carry as much. 

       I was feeling pretty good, and the course was only getting more runnable. I could look over and see the fog sitting on top of the river. I crossed bridge after bridge covered with leaves, and some had orange cones in strategic locations. I have been on unsafe bridges before, and I knew those cones were covering holes, but the bridge felt secure enough, and I just tried not to look down. I started talking with a runner who told me a little about the location's history. She said that the locals joked that the New River was one of the oldest in the country. We talked about how West Virginia broke off from Virginia to fight for the Union, which I honestly didn’t remember. I wondered internally why West Virginia was still so conservative even though it had gone out of its way during the Civil War to fight against slavery. We talked about the Appalachian Trail and the history of the communities that lived here. West Virginia has no big cities, and the people here have a history of being isolated from the rest of the country.

       I made it to the Thurmond aid station without much effort, and then I had 9 and a half miles to Cunard, where my drop bag was; then I fell and busted my hand open. My hand was so bloody that I couldn’t see how bad it was, so I tried to laugh it off. I stopped and put my bike gloves on after swishing water around in my mouth and spitting it out on my hand to get a better idea of how badly I had hurt myself. I used Vaseline because that’s all I had, but the Vaseline did help with the pain, and I was able to stop thinking about it. The group I was with was far ahead of me, but when I fell, 3 or 4 people stopped to help and asked if I was okay. At this point, I knew that Cunard would be a better aid station to regroup because I would be able to clean out the wound with soap and water and possibly find some Neosporin or something else to help with the throbbing pain. Even though I was going slower than I wanted, I still made good time and finished the first marathon in under 5 hours while running at a manageable effort. I couldn’t stop smiling despite the pain. It was so beautiful, and the air filled me with joy as I ran by the river, zooming along leaf-covered trails: everything seemed so bright. 

Rim to River 100 Part IV: Sudden Despair

       I made it to Cunard at Mile 27 and was overwhelmed by how many people were there. This was by far the most crew I have seen at any aid station. I knew I was going to do a few things while I was here, so I started by getting my hydration refilled, and then I saw an area with vegan items! They had vegan quesadillas and vegan muffins! I ate almost the entire plate of vegan quesadillas. I sat down with my bag to look at my hand again, and someone came with the medical bag to help me. I really just wanted something for the pain because I knew a bandage wasn’t going to work, but I could put triple paste and/or Vaseline on the spot. I first cleaned it with water, and while it looked bad, I didn’t feel like any of the cuts were deep, so the injury mainly just cost me time to take care of it. I would estimate I spent 30 to 45 minutes dealing with the cut. Some of that was earlier when I sat down, and then the extra time now.

       Then I noticed that I had stopped my watch! This was the first time I had ever stopped my watch by accident during a race, and I started it again immediately, but I had lost almost 12 minutes. I also went to the bathroom before I left because my stomach was starting to bother me. I secretly wondered if something I had just eaten had upset my stomach. Still, the woman at the aid station said she always made vegan stuff because her husband is vegan, and she promised me potato soup when I see her again, which would be in 53 miles, but something nice to look forward to.

       The next section took me to the Bike Farm aid station, and to get there I had to walk up a winding road. I was happy other runners were there with me, but cars were going down this road, and it felt like we just kept going. I had gone the wrong way a few times early in the race, but now I was doing a better job of looking for the correct sign placement and hadn’t gotten lost since. I noticed the mileage signs and the “wrong way” signs were generally placed in the corners of the path, so easy to miss if you weren’t looking for them. Before I hit the next aid station at mile 38.5, I suddenly felt disillusioned, discouraged, and generally melancholy about existence. I was moving slower and heading toward a lookout area where we were to get what looked like a key chain out of a box to take to the next aid station. One runner asked me several times if I was okay, which made me realize how transparent my emotions were, but I was confused because physically nothing was wrong. It was like despair had jumped on my back and was clouding how I was seeing everything. When I finally made it to Bike Farm, the aid worker there asked me several times if I was okay. I didn’t have much water to refill because the next aid station was only five miles away. We were in the most popular part of the trail, so at least 50 people were walking to a lookout spot. As I started the next section, I thanked the runner who had asked me if I was okay earlier before passing her. Now that I knew what was going on, it was easier to try to move past it, but I wasn’t there yet. Dealing with despair isn’t about fighting. My goal is to distract myself by focusing on each foot placement, or on my posture and breath. I breathe in through my nose. Hold it, and then out through my nose as long as possible, and repeat. I remind myself that this too will pass, and things will feel different soon, so why not embrace the battle by validating its existence, while also sitting back and observing. 

Rim to River 100 Part V

       The next stop was Fayette, and when I got there, I decided to leave my poles behind. I had started using them at some point. This next section would take me to the turnaround point at Hawks Nest. The most technical and steepest part of the race was around there, so I debated for a while before I asked one of the workers. She encouraged me to leave them. I don’t think she thought the course was technical enough to need poles, but I think I just wanted to leave them in general and needed someone to validate my perspective. There were a lot of easy downhill sections before the hard part. At one point, I saw the runners pacing way ahead of me, and I felt good at first because it didn’t seem like that many. I made it to 50 miles in about 10 hours, which was my goal because it would give me plenty of time to run the next section and still finish under 24 hours. At first, 24 hours seemed easy, and I almost wondered if it was too late to make up time. My goal was to run between 22 and 26 hours, and I was doing that, but part of me thought I hadn’t pushed myself hard enough.

       When I made it to the bottom of the mountain, a scenic sky lift sat right by the water. I pushed up those hills as fast as I could, but then I hit the hill that said “this is the hardest hill,” and the sign didn’t lie. It was about a half mile almost straight up. This is where the poles would have helped. It was so rocky, so I focused on taking bigger steps and made it up without too much difficulty. I was definitely slowing down, and it was a struggle to push myself up that hill and jump over those hard, sharp rocks, but it was fun too. There were a ton of runners around me, and it wasn’t dark yet.

       When I made it to the top, it felt a little anticlimactic to fill my hydration before heading back down. I was partially looking forward to the downhill section, but I didn’t realize how different the path would be, so I must have missed a lot more runners ahead of me than I thought. The downhill was almost as hard as the uphill. It was mostly stones, with sections where I looked around for a while before I found the path I was supposed to take, but the difficult sections were about the same distance as the uphill. I started talking to another runner. He said he didn’t think we could make sub-24 hours anymore. He also bragged to me that he does a caffeine fast for a month! I was telling him I was looking forward to the caffeine when we got back to the Fayette aid station at 59. I carried my headlamp just in case I needed it before making it there, and I ended up beating the sun by about 20 minutes; I picked up my poles back at Fayette. I debated leaving them in my drop bag, but I still thought I would need them when it got dark. I had some Coke there and started feeling the rush after 10 minutes.

       I thought about how I had almost run 60 miles before it got dark, compared to my last race, when it was dark around mile 30. Starting in the afternoon is discouraging on so many levels! I was paying attention to the mile markers in the ground. They would say things like mile 58.25, or 1 mile until the next aid station. They had been correct the whole time, but suddenly they were off by two miles. Also, my watch kept flashing that my battery was low, which seemed so odd. I was barely over 10 hours! I normally would easily get close to 30 hours on this setting. I knew I could charge my watch and my phone at the Cunard aid station at mile 80.5, but that seemed so far away.

       When I made it to Bike Farm at mile 64.5, my phone battery was under 10 percent, and I deeply regretted not grabbing a charger at mile 59, but there wasn’t much I could do then. I left Bike Farm without filling up more than my water flasks, ran a couple miles, and realized I had forgotten my poles! I was at the point where I could go back for them, but I'd easily add 2 miles to my run if I did. Those poles were around $160, but at that point in the race, 2 miles seemed worth the cost if I never got them back. When I made it to mile 70 at the Arrowhead aid station, I told the guy there what happened. He radioed over there and said they would get back to the start. I was shocked. I wasn’t sure what they would say, but someone even offered to drive over and get them; even though it wouldn’t take that long, I needed to keep moving. I was in a pack of at least 10 runners, and we were all trading spots throughout these sections. I checked with everyone I saw, and they all told me their watches showed they were two miles ahead at this point, too! It was frustrating because my watch had been almost exact this whole time. I switched my watch to the most battery-saving mode, and I hoped it would have enough charge to finish the race. I wasn’t sure how to do it, but I figured it out! So I went for it without poles and played music from my phone. After hearing what that one guy said, I was more determined than ever to finish in under 24 hours! I was going to prove him wrong, and with the two-mile add-on, it would be close.

Rim to River 100 Part VI

       The next aid station would be Cunard at mile 80.5; officially, unofficially it would be 82.5. This aid station had the potato soup I had been looking forward to and my phone charger, so I could start listening to music again and taking pictures and videos. As I got closer to the finish line, I kept reminding myself that the elevation isn’t that bad at the end of the race. Only a handful of big hills remained, and I was feeling better and better about my chances of finishing under 24 hours. I was drinking Coke at every aid station, but I wasn’t that hungry anymore. When I made it to Cunard, I just grabbed a cup of the soup, which was good. Several other runners were close to me, so I was motivated to pass someone ahead. I kept thinking that it was going to start getting cold like it had last night when I was camping, but I never went beyond wearing warm gloves. I never changed my shorts or socks throughout the race, but I did eventually change into a long-sleeved shirt at Cunard.

       I started out filling up my two water bottles in the front of my hydration vest, but that was it. The next aid station was only a little over 5 miles away, and then there would just be one left until the race was over! The goal was still to make it before sunrise, and during these final hours I was able to listen to music and talk to people. A younger guy was behind me for a while, and then he was gone. I am not sure if I finished ahead of him. I started talking to this other guy, thinking it was him, but it was a different guy named Dave who had made up time and was having a great push at the end. I spoke with him for a little bit; he was a nurse who prescribed mental health medication. I didn’t know that was even a job nurses could do, but that’s what I thought he told me. We ended up talking about medication for a while; I was curious about different types and how they work with young people. It seems like more and more kids are taking medication for anxiety.

       Before I knew it, we were at the Erskine aid station, and I thought it was cool that we got an extra aid station at the end of the race. On the way there, we went from Concho Rim to Thurmond and then Cunard, but on the way back we went from Cunard to Erskine to Concho Rim, so there weren’t as many long stretches between aid stations during the last 20 miles. I have very few memories of Erskine aid station. I remember Cunard and even Concho Rim, but Erskine is a blank, possibly because I didn’t spend much time there. I might have gotten some more water, but at this point I was so focused on the finish line and trying to stay ahead of the runners right behind me and catch as many runners as possible.

       My phone was charging, and my watch hadn’t blinked again since I changed the setting earlier. Only one aid station remained, and I couldn’t wait to make it to that last 7 miles! I was getting frustrated that I had to accept that I was most likely going to be 2 miles over! It might not seem like a lot of miles, but when you’re doing the math of how long you have to finish under a certain time, 2 miles late in the race is huge. When I made it to the Concho Rim aid station, my watch said mile 95, which seemed so close to the finish. I knew it would likely be more than that because we were going the same way we got here, so that meant I had 7 miles to go. I was about 22 hours into the race, so I knew I should be fine making it that far in 2 hours, but at the same time it wouldn’t take a lot to throw my time off, and then I would have no time left to make it up, so I started going as fast as I could out of the Concho Rim aid station. At the start of the race, we went up this road I had driven down earlier, so I knew I would recognize it when we got there. It wasn’t that steep, but the downhill in the last mile would give me a clear indicator when I was close, and I was happy we were finishing like that. I passed 2 other runners during this stretch, and I think Dave might have caught up to me again. He was really moving, which just motivated me. I didn’t walk at all during that 7-mile section. With how recovered I feel today, I wonder how much harder I could have pushed it, but I went as hard as possible during this part of the race. I just wanted to pass more runners, and I was running out of time!    

Rim to River 100 Part VII

       With only 7 miles left and mostly flat ground, I was literally leaping over fallen trees, rocks, and crevasses. I kept checking my time, but it didn't click by painfully slowly. I was so focused on passing more people that I wasn’t as focused on finishing. It was still dark, but it was getting slightly brighter, and I heard the finish line before I saw it. I was still way up by my campsite, and I passed one other person with less than a mile to go. This was one of the most competitive runs I have done in a while. It was similar to the Mohican 100, and I know that if I hadn’t been dealing with that injury, I could have placed a lot better. I was running on the road, and I knew I was getting close to a half mile left; then I saw the finish line and started sprinting. I saw the time, and I was 23 hours and 31 minutes! I was ecstatic! I beat 24 hours with time to spare! I got my belt buckle and was happy to be back! Looking forward to taking a shower.

       I slowly walked to my car and saw Dave, who I'd been talking with earlier. We were both happy to finish under 24 hours, and I was excited that I would also have enough time to get home without rushing. When I looked at the finishing times, so many people were close together. I finished 27th, but the next 9 runners ahead of me all finished within 30 minutes of my time, and only 5 runners behind me finished within 30 minutes of my time, so I was in a big pack. I think, if everything had gone right, I could have finished an hour to an hour and a half faster, which would have placed me 11th overall, so it is a competitive race. There were 157 finishers, and 83 people didn’t finish. The winner finished in 16 hours and 45 minutes! Carre, who was telling me about Eastern State at the start of the race, finished in 19 hours and 22 minutes! This race clearly attracts some of the most competitive runners in the area. If I lived in a place like New York or Pennsylvania, I would want to do this race every year! And only a 10-hour drive from St. Louis, I couldn’t recommend it enough.

       The first thing I did when I made it back was take a shower and then a nap. I turned on the most recent Fantastic 4 movie on my VR headset and fell asleep after 10 minutes. I still haven’t finished that movie. I knew it wouldn’t be long until I had to pack up and head back to St. Louis, but for that moment I had everything I needed, and I was happy.

Rim to River 100—The Aftermath

I moved about 5 times slower than average when I woke up, and I started to clean up my campsite. My legs were stiff, and my feet definitely felt the miles, so I made a point of moving gently and taking my time as I packed up. After a race like this, I’ve found that giving myself some extra time to do everything helps. I wasn’t sure whether my drop bags or my poles would be ready yet, so I figured there was no rush. I made it to the bottom of the hill, and I saw runners still finishing. There wasn’t much time left, but it was encouraging to see them out. Hydration was still on my mind, so I kept sipping water throughout the morning. I grabbed my drop bags, but I couldn’t find my poles or anyone to ask about them, so I headed inside for food. I ordered a pizza without cheese. It was 16 inches, so I wasn’t sure I’d finish it, but I ate the whole thing over about an hour as I talked with some of the other racers and enjoyed sitting for a while. Refueling after a 100-miler is always tricky—my appetite was huge, which makes it easy to eat too quickly —so while I was almost continually eating, I kept the pace slow. I also made a point of moving every so often so I wouldn’t stiffen up. I spoke with a guy for a little while, and he recommended I check out a lookout not too far from where I was sitting. I was still just marveling at how pretty the area was. Every time I finish a race like this, I remind myself it is important it is to give yourself permission to rest, eat well, keep moving lightly, and just appreciate the moment. 

       I went out to find my poles, and this time it took almost no time; they had them sitting out in an area I'd most likely passed at least four times already. I was just glad to have them back! I was still in shock accepting that I had gotten them back. When I decided to keep going, I fully expected not to see them again. Although I didn’t have much spare time if I was going to drive 10 hours to my house and then go to work in the morning, I figured, when would I be here again? So I took the guy's advice and went to the lookout a few miles away. At first, the GPS took me to the wrong place, but then I followed the sign and saw it. I walked down and saw the river, but what made the view spectacular was the train I could both see and hear going around the hill. I saw more than a couple of spots with what looked like old train tracks, and thinking about riding a train around these mountains or along the river felt like something out of a dream from so long ago that I had forgotten until now. And no joke, I have this memory of riding an old train as a kid in an area like this, but I don’t know if it is real. The drive home was uneventful but not too bad. I got to talk to some people, and I made it home in time to go to work on Monday!

Rim to River 100 —The Next Day 

       I got home after 10 last night. It wasn’t as easy as the drive down, mainly because I was sleepy, it was dark, and there kept being one section of road work after another. It seemed like as soon as I got through one section, I would see another sign for the next one, but I feel good today. I feel surprisingly fresh. I could have run more this morning, but I wanted to go into work today. I know I will likely be late, but I am hoping it's no more than an hour later than usual, so as long as I leave sometime in the next 40 minutes, I will only be an hour late.

       The part of the morning I was most worried about was getting up, but I woke up on my own before my alarm went off, and I genuinely feel rested. I got a little unpacking done, and then my cat escaped! I will start the official write-up for the race tomorrow, but what a crazy weekend. It feels good. This has to be my favorite race of the year. Before this one, it was probably Thunder Kiss, which shares similarities with this one. Still, ultimately this one offered a lot of unique trails and just a variety of difficulties that were just the right balance. I would think I would be dreading my normal day of work, meetings, and gymnastics tonight, but I am not. Tomorrow I will start posting the race report!