“There is a sunrise and a sunset every day and you can choose to be there for it. You can put yourself in the way of beauty.” Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail
In the early, chilly morning hours of Saturday, November 2nd, I along with 250 other runners prepared to start the 4th annual Rim to River 100 miler at the ACE Adventure resort in Oak Hill, West Virginia. My family and I arrived at ACE on Thursday and had been having a wonderful time at our cabin, which was conveniently located just a 5-minute walk from the starting line. I have been coming to ACE since I was a teenager in the 1990s, and it has become one of my favorite places to visit. The New River itself is very special to our family, as I used to raft on it during my days as an Eagle Scout with Troop 835 and float on it in while a college student at Virginia Tech. My wife Sarah grew up playing near it on family vacations in the mountains of North Carolina, and we also ran a marathon next to it several years ago shortly after getting married. Today I would run close to four marathons, and I honestly was not sure if my body was up for the task. In my morning devotional shortly before the race began a passage from James was highlighted, which read: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2-4) Knowing what lie ahead, I could not think of a more fitting verse to start the day.
After some brief remarks and a hearty rendition of the national anthem, we were off! The start of the race is almost a mile of climbing uphill on paved roads before settling into mostly single-track trails that loop all around ACE. I had no idea there were so many trails at the resort, but the first 13 miles of the race are all on ACE property. I started fast as per usual (Sarah likes to compare me to an excited puppy) and made it to the first aid station at Concho Rim at mile 7.5 about 20 minutes ahead of my race plan. Since it was still very cold, I opted to keep my hat, gloves, and jacket, and I quickly grabbed a PB&J for breakfast before setting back out on the course. When you leave Concho Rim, you head straight uphill for a hundred yards or so, and I took advantage of that opportunity to walk for a minute while enjoying my sandwich and witnessing the sunrise. The next section of the course presented a lot of gorgeous views, as I encountered more leaf covered trails along with abandoned mineshafts, old mining railroads, and breathtaking fall colors while making my descent toward Arbuckle Creek. I tried my best to get over the creek without getting my feet wet, but I was having so much fun while smiling for the camera person at the crossing that I lost focus for a second, and accidentally dipped the toe box of my left shoe into the icy water. Oh well, I would have plenty of time to dry off throughout the day.
Once across the creek there was a steep climb up a particularly rocky part of the course, which I navigated with relative ease in my new bright orange pair of Hoka Speedgoats. My wife and I joked when I first put them on that I would certainly not be hard to spot on the course, as it looks like I have flames on my feet when I run in them. Having had a rough experience at the Patapsco Valley 50K several weeks ago partly because of my shoe selection, I opted for the Speedgoats because they provide a super strong grip and much better toe protection than my previous pair, which would prove to be critical several times throughout the Rim to River 100. I was still well ahead of my goal pace and feeling great as I pressed on across the bridge leading us into Thurmond. At the Thurmond aid station, I had a Hammer gel and a few Oreos before setting back across the bridge toward the Arbuckle connector trail. From there we ran through a really neat section of the course that was adorned with remnants of old buildings, ghost towns, and mining structures. I shared a few fast miles with a runner named Jeremy from Greensburg, PA, and experienced a first with him as we encountered a train crossing blocking our path on the way to Cunard. Thankfully the train came to a full stop after a minute, and rather than wait it out I opted to jump between the rail cars and continue up the hill. Glancing behind me I noticed other runners doing the same.
I rolled into the Cunard aid station at mile 27 right on schedule and was rather surprised to hear my name being cheered from the large crowd there, as I noticed several familiar faces from the Baltimore running community and Virginia Happy Trails Running club. The aid station support and volunteers were incredible all day, and here at Cunard it was starting to feel like a giant party. At this point I was starving and overheating, so I ditched my jacket, hat, and gloves and went straight to the food tent. The most appealing thing I saw was pancakes (which is strange, because I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve eaten them since I was a kid), so I grabbed a few and made a “sandwich” of sorts using syrup to stick them together. From Cunard there is a two-mile march up paved roads, which I used as an opportunity to catch my breath and eat. The syrup turned out to be a terrible idea, as it got all over my hands and made using my cell phone to send text updates to my wife and pacer a sticky, gross ordeal. I did not have cell service there anyway, so I jammed my phone back into one of my pockets and pressed on, using a bit of water from my hydration vest to clean myself up. Somewhere along the Kaymoor trail I was eventually able to send a text which read: “Hit Cunard at 11:15AM, currently at mile 32 at 12:43 PM. Still feeling strong and no stomach issues but slowing down. See you both soon!” Over the next 10-15 miles I settled in and just enjoyed the scenic rewards of the day. Running high above the mighty New River along trails that were covered in massive green leaves from the Empress trees left me awestruck. Hearing the river roar and viewing it from above made me think of all the times I have been down there for whitewater rafting trips. As I ran, I found myself praising God for the beauty of creation and the magnificent views all around me. The lyrics to “This Is My Father’s World” came to mind: This is my Father's world
And to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings
The music of the spheres This is my Father's world
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas
His hand the wonders wrought The miles ticked by and my body began to break down as I made my way to Fayette Aid Station at mile 43. Having heard all about the famous hot pepperoni rolls from previous Rim to River runners I just had to try one, and they did not disappoint. What a delicious pick me up! Even still, I would hit a low point shortly after leaving Fayette. I was missing my family terribly, and after a gnarly wipeout (fair warning to future runners: the giant leaves cover a lot of the rocks and roots on the trail this time of year) I was experiencing sharp pains in my left Achilles tendon and right big toe. My pace slowed considerably, but knowing that Sarah, Abby, Bud, and my good friend Pete (who was running as my pacer) were all waiting on me at the Ansted Station turnaround at mile 50.5, I continued on. I shared the last few miles into Ansted with an ultrarunner who had an Ironman tattoo on his calf, and I commented that I had extra motivation to run faster through here with my beautiful wife and baby girl waiting on me. He smiled and commented “it really is the little things in life” a sentiment to which I wholeheartedly agreed. I welled up with tears upon seeing Sarah and Abby as I coasted into Ansted, but the tears quickly went away as Pete was able to shift my focus and make me smile. I was super grateful, because I did not want Sarah and Abby to know how much I was suffering. Here I would take one of my longest breaks of the race, as I soaked up the love and shared a PB&J sandwich with Abby (her first one ever!) to refuel.
Leaving Ansted with Pete I was supercharged. He did an exemplary job of keeping me focused and helping me to take my mind off the pain with plenty of stories and jokes. We talked about strategy for a bit, and then shifted into cruise control and started chewing up the miles. It was dark by the time we got back to Fayette at mile 58, which allowed us to see a magnificent view of the moon over the New River from underneath the bridge. We also heard a pack of wild coyotes clearly engaged in a hunt; it was pretty cool but also rather unsettling. I encouraged Pete to try the pepperoni rolls and opted for a few gluten-free almond cookie bites from a local bakery for myself, which were one of the best things I had during the running smorgasbord of the day. The pain in my left Achilles and big toe was excruciating at this point, so I stopped to assess the damage. I thought I had been running with a small rock in my shoe for a while, but it turns out there was nothing there. The source of the pain was actually a deep bruise on the bottom of my big toe that made it feel as though someone was stabbing me with every step. Although I was discouraged and hurting, Pete came to the rescue with ibuprofen and words of encouragement. We walked a bit until I felt good enough to run, then pressed on into the night. It seemed like ages before we reached the next aid station, and even though I had purchased brand new batteries for my headlamp in the weeks leading up to the race, it was just not providing much light. I took another bad spill along the way and grew really frustrated with both myself and the trail. We briefly went off course because I missed a trail marker, but Pete came to the rescue once again by checking the maps on his Garmin watch and course correcting us to avoid a major error. The next 7 miles along the Arrowhead trail section proved to be my least favorite of the race. There was plenty of climbing with loads of rocks and roots, and I was just not having it. I have no DNFs on my record to date and “I quit” is not in my vocabulary, but wow did I sure think about it at times. And then I started thinking of all the people cheering for me and praying for me back home. I asked myself “what story do you want to tell? To your daughter? To your wife? To your church family? To your friends, neighbors, and coworkers?” I remembered conversations with Bob Kelso and Greg Adams, two Cherrydale Baptist members who are in their 70s and 80s, about a month before the race. They ran the Marine Corps Marathon together many times in their younger days, and Bob wrote down my prayer requests for the Rim to River 100 on a napkin after lunch that day. I also remembered how I felt when I saw Sarah and Abby at Ansted Station, and thought about how it would feel to tell them I didn’t have what it takes to finish. How could I possibly tell Abby when she is old enough to understand that I quit just because it was difficult? How could I tell her to dig deep and persevere when life gets hard if I were to choose the opposite path today? And so I pressed on. Life is tough baby girl. But so am I, and so are you.
Arriving at the Arrowhead aid station at mile 71 I felt tremendous relief. I had some bacon (which makes everything better), chicken broth, and Coca Cola while sitting down for a bit. I also made the unfortunate discovery that I was chaffing badly below the waist, which is not something I have experienced in all my years of racing. I had lubed up everywhere (or so I thought) early in the day, but with all the sweat and dirt since then it had obviously worn off in some areas. Pete came to the rescue again with a small jar of Squirrel’s nut butter, an all-natural anti-chafing product that seemed aptly named given my circumstances. I felt immediate relief after applying a generous portion, and we headed back out onto the trails. Shortly after leaving the aid station, I made the discovery that Pete had both an extra headlamp and extra batteries, which I gladly accepted. WOW what a difference a good headlamp makes! With a floodlight feature that illuminated the entire trail ahead, it was like an entirely new race for me. I started having fun again and we made good progress. One of my favorite mantras, “the longer I run, the stronger I get” was on repeat in my thoughts. We got back on the Kaymoor trail and encountered one of the most memorable views of the whole race for me, as the bright moon in the midnight sky illuminated the dense kudzu that covered the towering trees in that section making it look like a mystical, enchanted forest straight from Lord of the Rings. The steep climb up from Cunard earlier was now a murderous descent, and I did my best to keep from wiping out as our pace rapidly accelerated. We stopped briefly for warmer clothing at the aid station and I chatted with a kind volunteer named Kim, who pinned a note on my hydration vest that read “No Regrets. Leave it ALL on the Trail.” She said that someone had done the same for her at the No Business 100 earlier this year and wanted to carry on the tradition. I loved it! We dashed off into the night once more and made quick work of the next 5-6 miles before one final stop at the Erskine aid station at mile 85.5. There were festive lights adorning most every aid station all day, and seeing this one lit up so well at this time (probably 2 or 3AM) made me very happy. There was fun dance music playing and a big inflatable Buc-ee's beaver mascot that made me laugh. With exhaustion starting to set in, I decided to sit down for a bit with Pete and refuel with a big slice of veggie pizza and a glass of Coca Cola. An accomplished runner himself, Pete had already set a new distance PR since joining me at Ansted, and I was so incredibly thankful for his presence. Thinking back to all the ways he had saved my race over the past 35 miles; I realized there is absolutely no way I could have gotten to this point without him. We talked and laughed, and during our conversation he said “man, this is crazy. So why do you do this?” To which I replied with a big smile “for moments like this one.” With that we did a cheers with our pizza slices, topped off our water bottles, took a picture with the beaver, and headed out to finish this thing.
Pete and I said our goodbyes around mile 87, which left me with one last half marathon to complete alone. I crossed back over Arbuckle Creek, thankfully staying dry this time, and zoned out for a while with one of my favorite running podcasts. Taking my mind off the race really helped, and I arrived at the Concho Rim aid station at mile 92.5 just in time to get a glimpse of another spectacular sunrise over the gorge. One of the volunteers there offered me pancakes and beer for breakfast, which I politely declined, but he also gave me some super helpful intel on what lies ahead to finish: some gently rolling downhill descents, 3 more tough climbs, and a fast downhill finish where you want to be careful to avoid falling. As I made my way toward the finish, I thought about all that had transpired over the past 24 hours. Sometimes amidst the darkness and pain the beauty was hard to see, but it was always there right in front of me. I just had to choose to see it. My wife would remind me later that it is much like parenting our daughter, Abby. When she is crying it's incredibly hard, but the beauty is still there. She is a precious, beautiful miracle, and I could not wait to see her upon crossing the finish line. I did so a little after 9:30AM with a finishing time of 27:40:53. I got a warm greeting along with a sweet finisher buckle from the Race Director, Bryant, high fives and hugs from Pete, and a delightfully happy reunion with Sarah, Abby, and Bud at the Lost Paddle Bar and Grill. What an incredible race! The volunteers were all extremely positive and selfless, regardless of the time of day, and the views of waterfalls, trains, mountains, and the mighty New River itself were unforgettable. It was definitely not an easy course, but I didn't come for easy. I strive to provide my family an extraordinary life filled with love and adventure, and our experiences at the Rim to River 100 were just that. Thanks for reading!
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