Odyssey Trail Running Rampage marathon (September 17, 2022)

I registered for the marathon thinking I would see how I did and how I felt afterward as a sort of test to help me decide if I wanted to register for the Mountain Masochist 5o miler in early November. Brian was tapering for the Yeti 100 two weeks later, so he registered for the half marathon.

There’s a reason we keep coming back to this race. It’s a great course, Ronny the race director is awesome, and it has a low-key, old-school vibe that we love. I was also hoping to get in the lake for a swim this year, now that I (finally) knew where the swimming area was, but the day had other plans for me.

It’s a loop course. The half marathon is one loop. The marathon is two and the 40- miler is three. There is also a 10k that utilizes some of the same trails but doesn’t make the big climb up to Tuscarora overlook.

We checked the forecast and it looked like it would be chilly at the start, but quickly warm up into the seventies. I had meant to grab my coat. But apparently, I didn’t. It was much colder than predicted and I was FREEZING waiting for the race to start. Luckily, I had brought a towel and I wrapped it around myself. I was still shivering though, and Brian said my lips were blue.

There were only 26 of us running the marathon and even fewer than that doing the 40-miler. The majority were running the half marathon and there were only 49 of them. This is a small race and that is one of the reasons I like it so much.

Waiting for the marathon to start

Each 13-mile loop begins with a big climb. I was somewhere near the front of the middle of the pack. I passed a few people, but everyone mostly kept their place in line. I was watching my footing on the rocky trail and listening to the chatter behind me. One lady was saying that she was working on running a marathon in every state. About a half mile later, she passed me.

At the top of the climb, there is a short out-and-back to the aid station. I saw her on her way out as I was going in, so I knew she wasn’t too far ahead of me. I was pretty sure she was the only female ahead of me. Downhill running is my weakness though, so I figured she would increase her lead in the next few miles.

View from the aid station

I’ve been working on my confidence on the downhills. It’s never been something I excelled at, but several years back I sprained my ankle on a rocky trail and then sprained it again a couple of months later. That made me even slower and more cautious. I’m still trying to get over that.

I felt pretty good for the first mile or two of the descent, but it was mentally and physically exhausting and I wanted to be done with the downhill long before I was. Eventually, I made it to the next aid station and was surprised that the lady who had passed me on the climb was there. She waved enthusiastically and said something encouraging as she headed out. I poured myself a cup of Heed and scanned the food offerings. I grabbed a couple of cookies and continued on.

The miles to the next aid station are rolling. I was feeling pretty good and only walking the steepest inclines. I was completely by myself and lost sight of the lady in front of me until I popped out of the woods for a short road section before the last aid station. Again, she was leaving the aid station just as I arrived. I ate a couple of boiled potatoes with salt and took a cup of Heed with me, walking for a while as I drank it.

I was surprised to see the lady ahead of me not long after I started running again. I wondered if maybe she was getting tired. She must not have been too tired though because once she saw me behind her she took off. I didn’t see her again until the start/finish and she was already on her way out for her second loop when I arrived.

I needed to grab food and Nuun from my bag and refill my hydration bladder, so I knew she would have a huge headstart up the mountain. I saw Brian’s friend John and he asked how I was feeling. I said good so far, which was true. He told me that he had registered for the marathon, but decided to stop after one loop. Instead of calling it quits though, he was going to do the 6-miler. This is another reason I love this race. Ronnie (the race director) is so flexible about things like that. He lets people who think they’ll need more time start early and he has no problem with people dropping down in distance mid-race. Another friend of mine who had registered for the 40-miler ended up running two 13-mile loops and then the 6-miler instead of her third thirteen-mile loop.

John helped me fill my bladder. Just before I turned into the woods for my second lap, I heard him calling my name. I had left my Nuun bottle sitting on the aid station table. I thanked him but said I would get it later. I didn’t want to go back. I hadn’t meant to bring it with me anyway, but I had meant to put it back in my pack.

I took off up the hill a little too fast. I guess I was trying to make up some of the time I’d lost at the aid station. After stumbling a few times I realized that I probably should slow down a little. Reconciled with the fact that I couldn’t move as quickly as I wanted to, I settled into a sustainable pace up the last big climb. Towards the top, I caught up to a man. We talked for a while before I pulled ahead. Right after I had passed that man, another man came flying past both of us. I commented on his speed this late in the race and he said he was just doing the 6-miler. Uh oh! I was pretty sure he was off course. The 6-miler didn’t include this climb. I hated to tell him, especially considering how fast he was moving. Had he stayed on course he likely could have won the race.

I saw him again on the out-and-back to the aid station. He wasn’t wearing his race bib anymore. Poor guy.

There were three runners at the aid station when I got there. Two were sitting down. I got some water, thanked the volunteer again, admired the view noting that the clouds in the valley had lifted, and headed out.

About a half-mile down the trail I caught up to the 6-miler guy. He was bushwhacking off the side of the trail. At first, I thought he had just stopped for a bathroom break but then I realized he was making his way through the woods parallel to the trail and decided to greet him. That’s when he told me there was a rattlesnake next to the trail. THAT’s what that loud noise was! I had thought it was insects. I couldn’t see the snake but decided I would bushwhack around as well since it was obviously still nearby. It was nerve-wracking being able to hear it but not see it. As I was making my way through the dense foliage worrying about snakes and ticks and poison ivy, another runner (wearing headphones) passed by on the trail below me blissfully unaware that he was in any danger. I was jealous.

Once I made it back to the trail, I eventually passed earphones guy. A little while later, I passed another guy. I started thinking that there really couldn’t be too many people left in front of me.

I was surprised to see the woman who I’d thought I’d never see again at the next aid station. She left before I actually got there, but still! I thought she’d be long gone by now. One of the volunteers asked if I’d seen the rattlesnake. Apparently, the woman had taken a video and had shown it to them. I told him I had heard it but hadn’t seen it.

In the rolling section between the second and third aid stations, I passed one more guy. He was off to the side and looked as though he was either about to or had just thrown up.

I caught up to the woman again at the last aid station. She was dipping gummy bears in salt and chatting with the volunteers. She greeted me enthusiastically. She again told me how awesome I was doing and I reminded her that she was kicking my butt. I grabbed a cup of Heed and walked off drinking it. As she came up behind me I asked her about the rattlesnake and she showed me the video. The rattlesnake was huge. She said it did not want to move off the trail. She then started running as I finished my drink. I caught glimpses of her a few times in those last two miles but didn’t have the energy to try to catch her.

She finished first place female. Only two guys came in before her. So I got second place female and fourth overall. I’ve never finished a race so close to the front. There were only 26 participants, so it’s not as impressive as it sounds, but it still felt really good. I was also pretty spent. Too tired, in fact, to feel like making the trek up to the beach for a swim. I felt like I’d put in a good effort.

I changed clothes after I finished, but I had been wearing the exact same Conquer the Cove shirt as the woman who finished third.

I looked back at the results from the Conquer the Cove marathon and the woman who placed first had come in two minutes before me at that race, snagging the first-place female masters award. Almost the exact same time difference that separated us at this one.

This marathon did not help me in making the decision about running Mountain Masochist or not. In fact, more than a month later with the deadline fast approaching, I am still undecided.

Odyssey Trail Running Rampage half marathon (September 8, 2018)

This race has been on my radar for many years, but it never seemed to fit into my schedule.

Since I had two big overseas trips planned for spring and summer this year, I decided that I didn’t want the stress of training for a fall ultra. I registered for the half figuring that it would give me something to train for without feeling any pressure to get in really long trail runs (especially during the vacation weeks.)

I have to admit that a big draw for me for this race was that I knew there was a lake at Douthat State Park (where the race is held) and I was hoping I’d be able to jump in after I finished like I do at Conquer the Cove. I knew there was a good possibility that it would be one of those annoying swim-only-when-a-lifeguard-is-on-duty type of lakes, but that didn’t stop me from fantasizing.

Brian registered for the race too, and we made reservations at a local hotel. There are cabins at the park too, and in my earlier race-planning optimism, I pictured us spending the night convening with nature, waking up and leisurely sipping coffee on our lake-front porch before walking down the road to the start. But alas, the cabins are only available for two nights minimum on weekends.

So hotel it was.

Until it wasn’t. In the two weeks leading up to the race, Brian hurt his back and was no longer planning to run, we adopted a cat that our resident cat doesn’t like, and the weather forecast was calling for rain on race day. Driving down the night before and paying for a hotel no longer seemed worth it, so we decided to just drive down race morning. The half didn’t start until 10am and the drive was less than two hours. It just seemed to make more sense under the circumstances.

It was foggy and damp when we arrived at the park. There were tree branches and debris covering the ground. It looked like a big storm had just come through and apparently one had the night before. I was happy we weren’t tenting out (which had been another option I’d considered).

There was a relaxed, low-key feel to the event. Runners doing the marathon and 40 miler had gear arranged in a circle on the far end of the field that they had access to when they came through after each 13.4 mile loop.

When the RD described the course, he said the first mile was rolling, followed by a couple miles of climbing. To me, it felt like we were climbing from the time we turned out of the field and into the woods. I stayed in the conga line for the first mile or so as we all walked the steeper inclines and jogged the rest. I knew I didn’t want to push the pace too much early on, but after we’d been walking for a while at a much slower pace than I wanted, I mustered up the courage to ask if I could scoot by. I always hate doing that. When I hear someone behind me I always ask if they want to get by, or just move over so they can and I really appreciate when people do that for me. Many do.

Not long before I reached the top, I passed a lady who told me I was fifth woman. Seriously?! Could that be true? Was I going too fast? Was she confused about which distance I was doing?

The trail flattened out a bit as we headed to the first aid station at mile 3.5. It was overgrown in places and I tried not to freak out about all of the poison ivy that I was seeing. There were several blow-downs to hop over too.

The view from the aid station is supposed to be beautiful, but all I could see was fog. I didn’t need any water, so I just thanked the volunteers (who we were told had to hike in all that water) and was on my way. I was pleasantly surprised that the downhill wasn’t too technical. There were a few wet, rocky sections, but it was all totally runnable. Even so, I expected most of the people I’d passed on the way up to come flying by me, but only one guy did. I ran for maybe 2 or 3 miles before people started catching up, and only a few passed me.

The rain held off, but the humidity was pretty intense. Everyone was soaked. I was hot and thirsty and really glad that I had decided to start the race with my bladder about 1/3 filled with Nuun. I should have grabbed a water at the first aid station too, because I ran out of Nuun before the second aid station. When I got there, I drank a cup of Heed and a cup of water. I did the same thing at the third aid station.

As usual, the last couple of miles were the hardest. Mostly, I was hot and thirsty. I’d been looking forward to running by the lake, but by the time I got there the sun had come out and the heat was killing me. I would have gone a little faster if I’d known how close to the finish I was, though. My Garmin said I had almost a mile left to go when I crossed the finish line.

The RD gave me a high-five. As far as I could tell, he stood there all day congratulating each runner as they finished.

I ended up placing 4th female which seems pretty crazy, but I’ll take it.

The race shirts and pint glasses for finishers were really nice. I love it when races give out something useful instead of medals.

The race start/finish wasn’t on the lake and I wasn’t sure how to get to the beach. I also felt bad that Brian had gotten up early to drive me to the race and then hung around for hours in the humidity with the mosquitoes. Plus I wanted to get home to check on the kitties, so I never found out if I could have jumped in the lake. I did submerge myself in a little stream by the finish line, though. It felt good, but it wasn’t quite the same.

Maybe next year.

Brian and I have already registered for the 40 miler. Hopefully we’ll be able to stay a little longer to explore the park and maybe go for a swim. Although I think most Virginia State Parks only allow you to swim when there’s a lifeguard on duty.