The Rocks ... oh how the rocks are never ending.

The Laurel Highlands Ultra is one of the oldest ultra trail races in the nation and this year was the 41st edition. The race directors, as so many have had to do, went above and beyond the call of duty to see through all of the COVID-19 mandates and policies to allow this event to go off without a hitch. This my first time running the course and had only run the first 8-miles just a few weeks prior to getting a taste of the local trail cuisine that LHT had to offer. I have ridden many times in PA and it is well known for it's East Coast Angry Rocks. The Laurel Highlands Trail does not disappoint! Rocks, rocks, and more rocks but this time I would be hitting them as a trail runner. My goal for participating in this event was fairly simple. First, I wanted to continue to push my distance limits to be able to handle the stress of the bigger ultras. Second, I wanted to test the waters with the elevation gain. 

This race is 70-miles, point to point, with a total ascent of roughly 11,500'. That's a lot of gain for 70-miles. One other cool bit about this trail is that it has concrete mile markers from mile zero to mile 70 and each is shaped like an obelisk. It should come as no surprise that the finisher award is in the shape of an obelisk with the number 70 etched into it near the top. Very cool. The trail marking color is yellow and is extremely easy to follow (wait for it ... remember I said that). I first heard of the race from a local trail running friend Rick Holman and after looking into a further and consulting with my BFF I decided to sign the dotted line. I spoke with a few running buddies that had run the trails and even the course to get a sense of the punishment that I could expect. A few weeks before the race, under the suggestion of a good friend and owner of Vertical Runner, Vince Rucci I made a one-tank trip (ok, two tanks for Mr. Green Jeeps) to Ohiopyle, PA to run what is known as the Gate to 8. This runs the first 8-miles of the course and back and within that first 8-miles are the biggest climbs on the course where you will hit nearly 3,000' gain. This I soon discovered was a VERY smart decision because I quickly realized just how legit these trails and they are not for the faint of heart. Hitting the first climb you soon understand that one is not going to merely "run" up these climbs and if someone such as myself tried, then I would explode in a fiery ball of destruction very, very quickly. My time for the Gate to 8 was respectable at just under 3.5 hours for just under 15-miles (either the trail markers are off or the Garmin struggles with a GPA signal ... I suspect the latter). 

Angie, being the awesome BFF that she is, outdid herself with logistics. She discovered a wonderful AirBNB located on the premises of the Nemacolin Woodland Resort. One word best described this resort, Posh. Wow! On-site Mary Go Round, full golf course, massive putt-putt (wish we had a chance to play it!), Zoo (yes, the I said a Zoo), a massive and beautiful resort building, and of course, an airport. I can't make this stuff up. It actually had an airport for the guests that just prefer to ... fly-in. Angie and I opted to not take our private plane in and we just drove through the always scenic PA. 

Being this the year of COVID-19, all races that at least I am aware of are TT-style with waved starts and LHT this year was no different. I had originally requested to have the earliest time slot of 5:30am but no thanks to the Google auto-fill of the LHT survey my form was messed up so I was assigned at the start time of 6:09am. I would be fine with it but asked for an earlier start time. The race directors are seriously top-notch guys and I ended up with being slotted into the second wave. Each wave would have 5 runners and go off in three-minute intervals. 

Per the usual race morning deal, I got up pre-crack of dawn at 3am, had a small amount of oatmeal (1/3-cup), some of my favorite Christopher Bean Coffee, quickly followed the "processing" of said oatmeal and coffee. Angie and I were out the door by 4:15am (she is seriously the best evah!!). Each runner had to check-in one hour before their start time, mine was 5:33am, do their packet pick up, have their temperature checked, and then be at the start line about 5-minutes before their start time. Everything went off without a hitch and after the first wave went off at 5:30am (which included my running friend Rick Holman) my wave got in line and were off and running (literally). 

The start is a short gradual climb on a gravel road with a quick left-hand turn onto the LHT and that LHT start is a steep pitch up that settles in for a gradual undulating 3/4 mile until you hit the first of three nasty climbs. My group of five was a bit of a sorted bunch. There was me, a gentleman that was just planning on thru-hiking the course in 22-hours, a guy that looked like he was a bodybuilder, and a couple of guys that appeared to be doing the race together. The bodybuilder, I'll refer to him as The Hulk, shot out like a cannon once we hit the trail and I only caught him a few times before I never saw him again (he was off the front and just charging like a bull .. impressive for his size). The thru-hiker was off the back quickly as I suspected and I yo-yo'd with the two friends heading up the first two climbs when I finally dropped them soon after we hit the third and biggest climb on the course. That third climb is 1.65 miles with 1200' of ascending. It's seriously no joke and I suspect I hiked at least 2/3 of it before nearing the top where it became runnable for me near the mile 8 marker. I had heard that the way to run this race is to take the first 20-miles "easy" because the climbing is relentless and one can absolutely cook themselves in the first 20 and then have nothing left in the tank for the last 50-mile stretch. I tried to run a conservative race for the first 20-miles and just keep it even-keeled the entire day. Not having ever run this much vertical in one shot I had no idea if my body would handle it or succumb to an injury along the way. I recall somewhere around mile 15-20 that I started to have a small amount of pain in the back of my right knee, the same thing that happened at Burning River 100 but much later on in that race. Listening to all the running advice floating around in my noggin, I jumped on it quickly and took a couple of Tylenol while running to see if I could get it to just go away and knowing full well that it might have an adverse effect on my stomach. Fortunately for me, it worked out this time and the pain subsided 5-10 miles later and the Tylenol it never bothered my stomach. This also ended up being a great decision due to what was about to happen. 

Humming along, minding my own business, an evil East Coast rock jumped out from the ground and grabbed hold of my right foot. Down I went, hard! Why I didn't catch myself with my arms and hands I'll never know. Maybe because it happened so fast, but not only did I hit the dirt deck as flat as a pancake, but I chin planted. Oh yes ... chin hit the ground so hard that my jaw clamped shut on my front teeth. Damn. This could be the end of my day. Well, the good Lord was watching over me because the worse that had happened was that I got a fat upper lip and a few of my teeth went numb for a while. No blood, no slipt chin, no loss of teeth, seriously .. had I hit a rock in that manner they would have been dragging me off the trail. It was a not so subtle reminder to respect the trail and be a heads-up runner (as opposed to a face on the ground runner). Stuff can happen quickly, lift your legs, and control your speed in the real technical sections. I'm just so thankful that my day didn't end early. 

The entire race I managed to eat all day long with zero stomach problems. As I moved along the course I would slowly shift from sweeter foods like Skratch bars, fig newtons, Picky Bars to salty fatty foods like Sea Salt and Vinegar chips, or just plain Hawaiian rolls and potato rolls. For fluids, I was relying on various flavors of Tailwind and the aid stations carried water and different flavors of Skratch. #winning I only ran out of fluids twice on the course and both times were within 1-2 miles of the next aid station which were spot on in terms of mileage. 

The first aid station at mile 11-ish I met Angie. We were allowed one crew member each and Angie being the ever so loving and supportive wife that she is gave her time, energy, and emotional support to me. We decided on three support stops where she would meet me along the way and these were each fairly critical, with the exception of the second stop depending on when I arrived because there was a chance that I might need my headlamp at that point. The first crew point at aid station one was where I could drop off my headlamp for her to recharge and obviously, it is always just awesome seeing her along the course. She is my rock when the going gets tough and a constant reminder that she is by my side through thick and thin. After the first stop, I would be running a 50k before I saw here again at aid station six at mile 46. The plan was for me to preserve my phone battery and to do that after aid station one I would shut it off. Angie was tracking me up to aid station one via Life360 and then at aid station five I would turn it on and text her that I was heading to the next meeting point. Ahh yes ... the best-laid plans of mice and men, eh? 

When I was leaving aid station five I popped out my phone while shoveling whatever food sounded good at the time into my pie hole, turned it on (man it takes forever to boot), and text'd her. Only then realizing that I may not get a signal I ran with the phone in my hand to make sure it was delivered. Yup, good to go! Putting the phone back into my pocket only to check it a few minutes later ... cool ... Angie responded with "OK" and we were all good at that point. Maybe. Along this 6-7-mile section, I was caught and passed by a runner that I later learned started at 6am. #beast He was blasting through the trails at what seemed like a rather casual stride and just walked away from me. As he was doing so we ran along with a few hikers and I think either I was tired or just got distracted because I did what no racer is supposed to do, blindly follow the person in front of you and assume they know where they are going. Whelp ... maybe a 1/4 mile away from the missed turn this guy starts to head back towards me. Crap. No bueno. He tells me that he has not seen a yellow blaze, which is very odd for this course, and that he is seeing blue blazes. Muy no bueno. Quickly remembering there was a fork in the trail only short bit ago I turned tail and ran back and we very soon discovered the turn that we both missed. Thank goodness he was at least paying attention because otherwise, that could have been so much worse. As I entered aid station six I looked around for Angie. Ummm, Angie? The plan was for me to pick up my headlamp and swap out my depleted music headset with my back-up. We didn't want to take the chance that I would slow up before the next aid station, just shy of 11-miles, and then have to run in the dark. Hmm ... no Angie. This worried me quite a bit because Angie is never late and honestly I was more concerned for her safety that the race at this point. Not knowing what was going on or what my best course of action was I made a judgment call and prayed that she was ok. I grabbed food, refueled my fluids, and headed back onto the trail. I had totally forgotten about getting my headlamp but I was making great time and knew that I would be ok to reach aid station 7 which was our next meet-up location before the skies began to darken. Instantly my head began swirling with negative thoughts that something might have happened to her. I frantically grabbed my phone, tried calling her (no answer) and text'd her. Thank goodness she responded to my text. Now, I will refrain from mentioning what the text read because it was easy to tell she was really upset. I can't blame her either. Had the tables been turned I would be upset that I did not reach the aid station on time to support her. Upset is probably a huge understatement. I text'd back that I was fine with a heart emoji, but I knew full well that she was beyond frustrated. For me, I was beyond relieved that I knew she was safe and that's all I care about. As I understand if she did the ole'phone-a-friend for some well-deserved emotional support. I felt horrible that she felt horrible but there was really nothing I could do at this point but simply motor on and do my best to ensure that not grabbing my headlamp would be ok. This is also where I wish I were much better at predicting my times between aid stations and overall expectations. I really and truly had no idea how much slower I would run on a course with so much climbing. I predicted for the section between aid station five and six that my estimated run time would be 2-hours thinking that I would continue to get slower as the race progressed. Whelp, I was 30-minutes faster than my predicted time and it would have been closer to 35-minutes faster had I not gotten off track for a good 3-4 minutes. This obviously did not help the situation when Angie and I missing each other at aid station six. This stuff is just so hard to predict. For years we had the mountain bike races down to a science so I think it will take time to figure out the ultra trail running.

Along the section to aid station seven, there were some incredibly cool rock outcroppings that we got to run in and out of. At two spots near these rocks were photographers one of which scared the jeepers out of my because I wrapped around a corner and all of a sudden someone was sitting right there. I just get so into my own head on these events that I don't expect this, ever. Oh, and apparently someone must have a mailing address along the course because I recall coming around one of the larger rocks and seeing a mailbox. Seriously, why is that there?? Regardless, I got a good laugh at it thinking about how the mailman must be one heck of a courier and trail runner to be delivering mail there every day. Too funny. Yet again I was way off on my estimated run time to aid station seven by 30-minutes under what I had predicted. I had estimated that it would take me near 3-hours due to fatigue, but fortunately, Angie was there waiting with warm rice noodles in broth, warm potato pierogies, and that ever so important fully charged headlamp! That said, she also had to hike over some rocky terrain and had been dealing with foot pain that, while healing, is taking it's good sweet time to be fully recovered. Had I known what she would have to traverse to meet me in these locations I would have never ever asked her to do any of this. We just didn't know heading into the event what this would be like to crew, yet another lesson learned in the many adventures that we continue to do together. She could tell I was flustered and not thinking straight. She basically calmed me down with a few short words, "one thing at a time". Yup, absolutely right! I heard her message loud and clear and it immediately calmed my nerves and got me focused. I took care of filling my fluids while grabbing a Mountain Dew (cuz ... caffeine and bubbles baby!!). Then grabbed some of the noodles and the pierogies being careful not to eat too much because at this point I could have downed every last bit of that wonderfulness. Finished eating and then swapped out my music headset, grabbed and mounted my headlamp, and threw on the vest w/ a fully filled bladder of cold orange Skratch. Man did that orange Skratch hit the spot! Before leaving I always remember to give my BFF a kiss (I'm not dead yet but I probably smell like I am dead) and then head back out to the last of the 8 aid stations which was a mear 4.5 miles away. 

It was around 6:30pm-ish at this time so I knew I had a few miles of daylight left before I needed to turn on my headlamp and that's when it hit me, I forgot to grab my back-up battery. Dang. This basically meant that I had to run the rest of the trail with mid-beam (300 lumens) instead of the much preferred high beam (900-lumens). These old eyes prefer that high beam but I also prefer any beam to complete darkness. The light slowly gave way to the night and man oh man does that trail get dark! Honestly felt like it was so much darker than the trails at home and I suspect that is due to significantly less light pollution in the area. Not willing to take the chance that I would be able to finish the race with the high-beam I decided to keep it at mid-beam and struggle through the rocky terrain. This definitely slowed me down and the rocks were a constant reminder of the dumb arse that I was by forgetting that back-up battery. Every rock seemed to jet out and my feet seemed to find all of them. Each foot strike on a rock felt like something was about to give out, either my ankles or my feet. In several places I just had to slow down because not only were the rocks tearing my lower half into shreds, I was tripping over way too may easy obstacles that I would normally dance around. This was pure fatigue setting in and my legs were struggling to lift themselves up and over the easy stuff. I felt like a bull in a china shop trying to just force my way through the trail. After reaching aid station eight, grabbing a bag of sun chips (dang those tasted great!), and mountain dew to make sure I was all hopped up on the good stuff, I headed back out for the final 8-miles to the finish line.

The good thing about this last section is that once you reach the mile 66 marker it's all downhill. The bad part is that once you reach mile 66-mile marker ... it's all downhill. Normally downhills are a blast, but at this time it was dark, I had been running well from dusk to dawn, I was tired, and descents are murderous on the quads and hamstrings. By the time I made my way to through the final steep climb of about 800' to reach mile marker 66, I was forced to slow down. Not only were the rocks relentless, still, but with the small amount of lighting I was forced to use and the steepness of the descent I simply had to walk quite a bit of his section. Countless times I tripped over rocks only to catch myself with my other foot and pray that I could stop and not end up hurtling my body down the mountain at an uncontrollable speed. Every time I tripped over something it was a reminder that I needed to just slow down. The trail ebbed and flowed between being runnable and having to walk. Finally, I reached mile marker 69 and as I glanced at my Garmin I saw a time of around 9:18pm. I knew that if the trail kept up with this rocky mess there was no way I could break 16-hours which had become a possible goal in my head as I neared the finish line. Fortunately for me soon after the mile 69 marker the trail opened up, the rocks pretty much disappeared and the trail got pancake flat. Heck yay!! I did everything I could to open things up and just run flat out to that finish line. I could hear the sound of music playing over my own headset and through the distance and the trees, I could see neon lights that lit up what I could only hope was the finish line. Somehow I managed to cross at 9:29 and seconds. Since my start time was 5:33 I had 3+ minutes to spare before I would have been over 16-hours. Sweet!! Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined running this course that fast. My friend Rick absolutely tore it up and had a great race with a total elapsed time of 15-hours flat! Dang, that's hauling on such a technical course. #beast. 

We wouldn't find out our overall positions until Tuesday of the next week (I placed 8th overall). They had a 50k race that would normally happen the same time as the 70-mile race, but you know ... COVID-19 and all. I have a feeling that I did fairly well, but I guess time will tell. During the race, I thought I had only been passed by one runner that I never caught back up too. I was passed by a few other runners but slowly latched back on, passed them, and never saw them again. There were also a couple runners from the first wave that I ended up passing mid to late in the race due to cramping. While the temperatures were mild all day long and the trail is all tree-covered, the humidity got the better of a lot of people that are susceptible to cramping. I was fortunate not to be one of those unlucky folks. 

Special thanks to Vince Rucci that continues to be an incredible friend and always willing to help me out with gear selections. While at the Burning River race I used a pair of Patagonia running shorts (recommended by Vince) and had never once chaffed for the entire near 28-hours, this time ... I wasn't so lucky. I have a pair fo very comfortable Smartwool running shorts and while they really are great shorts and I did the normal pre-long run lubing in the appropriate places of all the tender bits ... I chaffed like crazy all over. Fortunately it never really got the point where it hindered my ability to run (that has happened quite a few times in the past), but afterward... oh my. I was dreading the shower. It's going to take a while to heal from this race due to all the chaffing and obviously the muscles that are just downright hateful along with my poor bloated Froddo Baggins looking cankles and feet. 

Also many endless thanks to my local trail community and friends. There are so many times that I lean on my trail brethren to learn and understand the ins and outs of the wonderful world of trail running. They are there whenever I ask questions, they are there to run together, share stories, and experiences. I would be lost without each and every one of them.

Of course, none of this would ever be possible without the love and support of my soul mate Angie. She is there for me in thick and thin, for better or worse, till .... well you get the picture. I love her to the moon and back!! 

Lastly, both the Burning River 100 and Laurel Highlands Ultra 70-mile races are Wester States qualifiers. Not that I have ever had the thought of attempting such an immense and classic trail race but ... #shrug  #happytrails