“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself, ‘What makes me come alive?’ Because what the world—a wife, a child—needs is men who have come alive.” – John Eldredge
My sweet wife Sarah penned these words from one of my favorite authors to me in a note labeled "Night Before Race." I read them at my Airbnb in downtown Abingdon after returning from the 2022 Yeti 100 Miler packet pickup at Wolf Hills Brewing Company last Thursday night and was overcome with love and gratitude, knowing that she was praying for me several hundred miles away to sleep well and wake full of life-giving energy, ready to take on the world. Shortly afterwards I shared the live GPS tracking link for the race across all of my different social media accounts for extra motivation and accountability before saying my own prayers and laying down to sleep. Am I really capable of running 100 miles??? We were about to find out.
Race morning On the long drive from Arlington to Abingdon I had listened to multiple running podcasts, including a perfectly-timed on one running in the rain. Knowing that Hurricane Ian was expected to make an appearance in the Appalachians by early afternoon, I implemented several strategies I heard from the podcast upon waking that morning including lubing early and often, dressing for temperature, wearing a visor, and choosing good socks. With generous amounts of Squirrel's Nut Butter on my feet and a Salomon running vest strategically packed with all kinds of extra gear, I departed the Airbnb around 5:30AM in good spirits. The shuttle pickup from the Virginia Creeper Trail was less than a quarter of a mile away, and I was grateful to have a fellow Yeti named Clint to walk and talk with in order to calm my nerves. He was staying at the same Airbnb as me and informed me that this would also be his first attempt at 100 miles. We loaded up with many other Yetis into a big shuttle van with a friendly driver named Dave, who did his best over the next 45 minutes to keep us well-informed and entertained on the drive to White Top. With a wife who is 8.9 months pregnant at home I was very displeased to discover there would be little cell service on the course, but Dave was kind enough to point out a local cafe at Green Cove with WiFi access that is Yeti friendly. After a lot of twists and turns to get up the mountain he dropped us off in the cool darkness of morning and we made our way to the starting line.
Miles 0-18 And away we go! I took off at a decent pace, quickly maneuvering around the large crowds to get in a better position. The first few miles were all downhill on a wide, flat portion of the trail, so it was relatively easy to make moves and get into a good rhythm. I briefly ran with my friend Mike from Fairfax, a super nice guy and gifted ultrarunner I have raced in the past, before accelerating onward to try and catch the leaders. As I pressed on ahead he promised to get some GoPro footage of me on the return trip from Abingdon, since he assumed I would be well ahead of him today. At that point I found myself in lock step with a runner named Becca Joyner from Grand Rapids, who would later go on to take first place female with a time of 19:55. She informed me that her husband was also running today, and as a mother herself, was happy to share all kinds of great advice for the early stages of parenthood Sarah and I are about to experience. I was chatting so much I lost focus on my nutrition, but caught myself at mile 8 and sucked down a Hammer Nutrition Espresso gel to give me some energy. We talked both racing and tapering strategy for a bit, which elicited major concerns from yours truly after hearing how much time Becca had rested before this race (one at which she has placed very well in the past). Since I was not sure if I would be racing this weekend (I was waiting until Sarah's doctor's appointment on Thursday for a pregnancy update before making a decision) I was still knocking out 8-12 milers earlier in the week. Oops! My legs were still slightly sore at the start of the race and feeling it at this point, but oh well. Ultrarunning is 90% mental anyway, so I decided to just push the thought aside and move on. We sailed into the Damascus aid station together at mile 18 and said farewell as we went our separate ways to fuel up and hydrate for the road ahead.
Miles 18-48 To avoid spending too much time in aid stations, one of the best strategies is to have a plan and specifics in mind before you arrive. For the first pass through Damascus I definitely saved time, but completely failed in implementing a plan. I was having so much fun and filled with loads of adrenaline knowing I was in the top 10 at the moment, so I just kind of blanked when I got there and did not immediately see my drop bag. In that moment I thought perhaps I had miscalculated and it was at the next aid station, so I topped off my water bottles, added a few Nuun tablets, shoved a few PB&J squares and banana slices in my mouth and took off. For those of you tracking me at home this may have been where I was in the top 5, but it would not last. Not even a mile past the aid station I realized I had forgotten to get Sarah's next note! Since she was unable to be here to support me in person due to pregnancy, she had hand-written notes with favorite quotes, scriptures, and encouraging words for me to pick up throughout the day at Damascus (miles 18, 48, and 84 on the original race plan) and at the finish line. I was still running and feeling strong, but man was I angry at myself for quite a while after that one. Soon enough I forgot my troubles and connected with a runner named Josh from Pittsburgh, who seemed to be going about the same pace. We chatted amiably for a bit and I learned that he had a wife and crew here, which made my heart long for Sarah's presence (or at least the note I had forgotten) even more. At some point we drifted apart, and I was left alone with the trail and my thoughts. Which was good, because it gave me more time to reflect on my "why" for today's race, a subject I had become rather fixated upon since hearing elite ultrarunner Harvey Lewis discuss it on a Rich Roll podcast earlier this year. As the miles went by and my heart got fuller, I realized that I have multiple "whys," all of which are deeply important to me. While I am no Eric Liddell, like him when I run I feel God's pleasure. And when I think of all the places I have been and people I have met through running, it just brings me tremendous amounts of joy and gratitude. Sarah's first note for the weekend definitely sparked something in me that reminded me who I am, and subsequent ones later in the day would do the same. I am William Joseph Wright, a man of true strength, forged through life struggles and reliance on God. And I am here today to experience joy amidst the pain as I challenge myself and glorify His name while sharing that joy with others. I am also here for my soon-to-be daughter! I want to inspire her to live a life of passion and adventure, and I want her to know that life can be incredibly tough, but so is she. I also want her to know that no matter what, God and I will always love her beyond reason. With that in mind I actually ran past a plastic Jesus in front of an old antique store, which caused me to have a good laugh/cry as I prayed for Sarah and our baby. I also realized that I hadn't checked my phone for texts in a while! Note to self: add that to the to-do list for the next aid station.
Miles 48-78 48 miles in and I am back at Damascus. FINALLY! The first thing I did was sit down to read my next note from Sarah, which caused me to get very emotional but also gave me a sensational energy boost. At this point I took my longest break of the day (15-20 minutes) where I made several very critical decisions that would ultimately save my race. It was around 3:30 PM now and very light rain was just starting, but knowing the forecast (which Sarah and I had reviewed and discussed pretty much every day at breakfast last week) I was prepared for the worst. I decided to go ahead and lube my feet up again, change to a waterproof pair of socks, grab an extra poncho, my gloves, and a rain visor. After doing so I I also checked my phone for anything from Sarah. Seeing nothing, it was almost time to go, but first I needed to fuel up and hydrate again. This time I opted for chicken broth, a cheese quesadilla, and some coca cola to give me a little caffeine boost. The aid station volunteers at Damascus (and everywhere) were really incredible all day, as they assisted me with numerous gear changes while keeping me well fed and hydrated. Although I did not have a pacer or crew, it truly felt like every aid station volunteer was on my side. As I set off for the 15 mile stretch to the next turn around I was feeling great, and the miles seemed to be going faster again. Past Taylor Valley and nearing Green Cove the rain started picking up significantly, with high winds coming into play as well. Not wanting to be caught up at higher elevations as darkness settled in and the conditions worsened I quickened my pace, reaching the 63 mile mark a little after 7PM. The return trip to Damascus is when things started to get rough. I did not put on a jacket at my last stop, which I almost immediately regretted, but thankfully the undershirt, long-sleeve technical tee, and poncho I had were enough to keep me somewhat warm as the temperature dropped, the steady rain became a downpour, and paths became streams.
Miles 78 to 100 Aid station to aid station folks. That's how you make it through. After submerging my Altra Torins completely several times along the trails I was really frustrated, but I just stayed focused on getting back to Damascus for new shoes, warm food, and a jacket, and that's what allowed me to press on. At night they light up the archways over the boardwalks as you approach Damascus with Christmas lights, which was a really welcoming site after all the abuse we took on the way up and back from Green Cove. When I got into Damascus I let out a tremendous sigh of relief before settling into the aid station for some much needed help. The food they cooked up at night was amazing! Fresh bacon, coffee, chicken broth, and coffee cake were precisely what I needed. After fueling up I retreated to the drop bag area, where I was surprised to discover my friend Mike sitting around the fire pit, which is where Yetis go to die. He informed me that he had dropped out of the race, and several others there shared similar stories as I raided my drop bin for fresh gear, but I was only loosely paying attention. My focus at that point was getting on rain pants, a warm rain jacket, finding my extra headlamp, putting on some new socks, and changing shoes to a pair of Altra Lone Peaks. After that I was like a new man! I chose to speak into that moment with a strong, positive voice, informing everyone around the fire that the weather really wasn't that bad. They looked at me like I was nuts and I just laughed, telling them I ran 24 hours at the 2018 Spartan World Championship in Iceland on a frozen, snowy mountain wearing the same gear that I was putting on before them now. I got some shouts of encouragement in response from the aid station volunteers and another Yeti who was still planning to finish, read my next note from Sarah, and then headed off into the night. And then it happened . . . my head lamp died a few miles from the aid station without any other runners in sight, leaving me in pitch blackness in the midst of what felt like a monsoon. I was a bit scared, but I also remembered that I had grabbed my extra headlamp back at the aid station, and I was determined to finish this race. All the years in scouting, earning my Eagle Scout badge, learning the importance of always being prepared, had gotten me entirely ready for this moment. My old Scoutmaster taught me long ago that there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad gear, and was fond of wearing a button on his hat that said "no whining." If I had not had an extra headlamp with me there was no way I could have persevered, but I did, because another racer happened along within a few minutes and he was able to help me get it out of my pack and on my head. To that wonderful Yeti and my former Scoutmaster, Tom Rowe, I just want to say a big THANK YOU. You saved my race. In addition to being prepared for everything that happened with proper gear today, I found myself thinking of Tom's "no whining" button several times throughout the experience, which made me laugh and helped me keep a positive mental attitude in the face of a very challenging situation. And with that, I pressed on. Slowly but surely, aid station to aid station, I pressed on. At that point I had resorted to a walk 100 seconds, run/jog 10 minutes method that seemed to be working for me, but at times it was just so dark and wet and confusing that I thought it would never end. All of my technology died with a few miles to go, which allowed for a very peaceful jog/walk in the rain until finding the finish line and getting a big hug from race director Jason Green. Coincidentally enough, I had just finished listening to an interview he did on the "Adventure Jogger" before my headphones died. It's one thing to listen to him speak about his dedication to making ultrarunning on the east coast super fun and inclusive, which is why he created Yeti Trail Runners, but it's quite another to experience it firsthand. After this weekend I am both humbled and proud to say I am part of the Yeti family. He complemented me on a very impressive sub 24 hour finish in such adverse conditions, which I didn't think was that big a deal, until I later learned that 49% of today's participants quit. Wow! I collected both of my beautiful buckles (the official finishers' buckle plus a bonus one for the sub-24 hour finish) with a tired and happy grin before walking back to my Airbnb to rest for a long, long time. And with that, my Yeti 100 mile endurance run is officially complete. Now to focus on being a dad, which I am sure will be an equally challenging and sleepless experience. Baby girl, I can't wait to meet you. See you soon!
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