Grindstone 100

I realize now that I haven’t posted here since Burning River last year, and I am a very different runner now than I was in Akron. My original plan for this racing season was to use the Lake Martin 100 in Alabama as a ‘tune-up’ race for the Grindstone 100 in October, a race that would deliver two cherished Hardrock lottery tickets (and a Western States ticket as well!). While the course around Lake Martin was pretty and the race well organized (but minimal; only two aid stations serviced the entire 25 mile lap course), things just didn’t feel right. I had pain in my achilles tendon that started early and only worsened. After a chat with Jordan at mile 43, I decided to pull the plug, and to my chagrin, took credit for a 12 hour 27 mile run...

The achilles pain got me thinking about my running form and what I could do to be a more efficient and less injury prone runner. I started building mileage in Xero huarache sandals, which encouraged me to run on from the balls of my feet and stop heel striking. Soon I bought both road and trail Altras as my feet and lower legs began to feel stronger. I also made a 21-week plan based on the Jason Koop book Training Essentials for Ultrarunning as prep for Grindstone. Training went well except for my tune-up race, the Shawnee Hills 100k, where I got dangerously dehydrated and dropped before I could see any benefits from the new training regime. I had just enough time to recover and then pace Jordan 56 miles at the IMTUF 100 before my taper began.

Be right back after 101.85 miles

Everything about Grindstone was very familiar (Jordan ran it in 2016), and I felt only excitement as the day got nearer. I had a conservative plan; stay on top of eating and drinking, and finish within the 38 hour cutoff. Our travel was simplified as we’d spent a few days in Charlottesville the week of the race, so the rituals of packet pickup and the pre-race meeting were all stress free.

Jordan, Fuller and I got to the start about 15 minutes early, which was just enough time to shake hands with a few friends, take pictures, and line up deep in the pack. The course loops back near the start at 1.5 miles, and Jordan and Fuller were there, the later ecstatically giving out high fives to as many runners as he could. I settled into a group with Sean Humphrey, a Dayton runner, and we made short work of the first 5.5 mile section. There was some concern about how well we’d be able to follow the trail here as the Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries had forbidden any race specific ribbons on their land, though the trails were still well marked with traditional painted blazes. And at a significant turn, just for good measure, was the one and only David Horton sitting on a rock, directing us where to go and wishing us well. I tried to memorize some landmarks, knowing that on the return trip it could be really easy to get lost when I was fatigued.

With Sean Humphrey (R) and James Lambert (L)

The first aid station came quickly, and I felt so bad for those poor volunteers. We arrived en masse, and I knew the next section was 9.5 miles, with the climb up Elliot’s Knob, so I wasn’t going to leave without all three of my water bottles filled. Everyone was polite, but it was a stressful few minutes, and I was glad to get back on the trail. Once the trail dumped out on a dirt road, I knew we had hit the climb proper, and I got excited; this is what I had been training for. With a little ‘Killian Jornet at UTMB’ imitation for good measure, I settled into a comfortably hard climbing rhythm. The fog increased as we went higher; the image of runners with headlights trudging uphill looked like something from a post-apocalyptic movie. I also began to notice the humidity; I was soaked with sweat, and would stay that way all night. The outbound climb goes all the way to the summit of Elliot Knob, where I’m told there are spectacular views, but all I could see was the orienteering punch hanging from the fence around the fire tower.

After a short decent off the summit, the trail turned back to single track and followed the ridge line. In the thick fog, I found it both comforting and helpful to be in a group of runners, as it was much easier to see the trail from other people’s headlamps. The section ended with a fun descent down to the aid station at Dry Branch Gap. On the way I chatted with a woman from Gainesville and we compared thoughts on the pros and cons of running and training in Florida. I only needed water at the aid station, so I exited quickly and went straight up; the trail quickly climbed up to the next ridge line. Somewhere in this section I got stuck in a large group, a ‘conga line,’ where the trail was too narrow to pass and whoever was in the lead had a different pace in mind than those behind. I decided to stay patient; I couldn’t imagine regretting going a little slow in the first half of the race. We were greeted with cheers of “that’s the biggest conga line we’ve seen all night!” at Dowell’s draft, the first crewed aid station where drop bags were available. I quickly restocked the food in my pack, got more water, and got out.

The next two sections were defined by rocks. Jordan called them ‘encyclopedia sized’ when she ran it. At least this time they weren’t wet, but I swear they were looser. I even thought they’d broken my trekking poles a number of times. It was also frustrating not to be able to make the most of the smooth downhills as I was uncomfortable running too fast in the dark fog. Patience paid off and I gradually made it through Lookout Mountain. Leaving North River Gap I joined a small group with some knowledgeable folks who warned that the next climb was the hardest of the race, and they were right. It just seemed to go on and on, with so many false summits, and some steep sections that slowed us to a crawl. Turns out that in this group was another Cincinnati runner, Jennifer Russo, that I knew of but had never met. We discovered each other by each telling the story of a fellow runner who ran the Hellgate 100k when it was so cold, her bottles froze in her pack. It was nice to have some consistent company through this section; I was rarely far from people throughout the race, but due to different running/walking strategies, I didn’t talk to many people.

The sun was just starting to come up as I reached the Little Bald Knob aid station where they had coffee brewing and made me an egg burrito to order. It was so good, I hated to throw half of it away, but I hadn’t suffered any stomach issues and didn’t want to risk a lot of heavy food. I’ve always heard about but rarely experienced the energy surge that comes with sunrise; I felt like a new person as I headed down the jeep trail to Reddish Knob, the second highest point of the race. This was my planned communication point with Jordan so she could time her arrival at aid stations in the second half of the race. The jeep trail changed to asphalt that lead up and around to the summit, where I timed my arrival perfectly. Climbing through the night and in dense fog, I never had any sense of just how high we were in the mountains, and the view from Reddish was incredible. I texted Jordan my progress, requested blue Gatorade to help get my hydration under control, and descended back down the road to the Briery Branch turnaround. The downhill felt good, but I was already tired of running on asphalt. Once there I caught up again with Jennifer, and we chatted while we each traded out clothes and food from our drop bags (I’d been looking forward to a fresh shirt for hours).

Knowing I was on the return trip, and that each step I took was in the direction of the finish, was a big mental boost. I kept pace with Jennifer for a while, but then she pulled ahead on her way to a sub 30-hour finish. Returing to Little Bald Knob, there were a number of runners siting in chairs that just looked really out of it. I sat briefly to drink and eat, and immensely enjoyed one of the aid station workers yelling in our faces drill seargant style “get the f--- out of that chair and run!” Taking his advice, I headed out, knowing that at the next aid station, I’d get to see Jordan and Fuller.

I know that physics doesn’t permit the same trail to be uphill the whole way in both directions, but that’s what this section felt like. The climbs on the way out had been so difficult, I thought it would be all downhill on the return, but this was definitely not the case. I didn’t suffer any “why am I doing this?” dark moments, but there were times in this section where I was certainly not having fun anymore. About halfway through I passed another local running celebrity, Andy Jones-Wilkins, who seemed to be everywhere all race, running and crewing and cheering runners. He was on Elliot’s Bald, he was at Dry Branch, and later I’d sit next to him and chat at Dowell’s draft.

It was so great to see Jordan and Fuller! Fuller was having a blast amongst all the runners and crews, but was a little loathe to give up his camp chair to his tired dad. I made a point to sit and catch up, but was always tending to something (including chugging one of two 32-ounce blue Gatorades). Jordan had even brought ice for my bandanna which was awesome, as the temperature was rising into the 80s and the humidity seemed to stay at 100 percent all race.

Raising 'em right.

I think the section back to Lookout Mountain was the hardest part of my race. The heat had robbed me of my climbing legs; I would quickly overheat with any sustained hard efforts. I was reduced to hiking for a few minutes and then sitting while my heart slowed down and my body cooled. While this was frustrating, I knew I had plenty of time to finish. In the past, I’ve let the weather stress me out, but I was able to accept the fact that it was hotter than I expected and I knew how to deal with it. And as often happens in ultras, the next section from Lookout back to Dowell’s Draft turned out to be the best and most fun part of the race. The last few miles were a flowy mountain bike single track, and knowing I was in the last quarter of the race, I just bombed it, and it felt great. I charged into the aid station to see Jordan and Fuller having beaten my projected arrival by 30 minutes. More Gatorade and foot work followed (as gross as it sounds, a wart on the ball of my foot was causing a pretty good blister). I would find out after the race that at one of these aid stations, a waiting pacer had made a quick sketch of Fuller and I. He gave it to Jordan after I’d left, and it is such a special and unexpected memory of this race that I will treasure. Heading out, I assured Jordan that I would be fine to finish on my own and find somewhere to sleep at the Boy Scout camp before they picked me up in the morning; I knew it would be rough getting a 3 year old out in the middle of the night. Jordan had other plans…

Signed M. Ross, and will soon be framed.

At this point, I knew I had two big climbs and three aid stations between me and a buckle and those lottery tickets. The rocks had been tough on the way down in the dark, and they weren’t much easier fifty miles later in the dark. It was here I truly embraced that old ultra mantra of relentless forward progress. I wasn’t moving fast, but I didn’t stop. I even kept looking for a good place to sit and close my eyes, but the poison ivy was too dense (yes, poison ivy helped me keep going). Getting to Dry Branch Gap, I wanted to shut my eyes for ten minutes; I needed the mental break to help prepare for the last climb up Elliot’s Knob. All the chairs were taken, so I curled up on a cooler that was just smaller than my torso and relaxed. Many say ‘beware the chair,’ but I find a short break works as a mental reset. Refreshed, I climbed again, happy knowing that this was the last main climb. The most memorable moment pacing Jordan in 2016 was when we popped out onto the gravel road to descend Elliot’s Knob; it had been raining almost the entire race, and that was the first time the sky was clear without thick trees above us. As much as I was looking forward to being back to that section, it felt weird and a little sad that she wasn’t running it with me. The Falls Hollow aid station arrived sooner than I expected (about the only time I can say that), and I sat to rest again and reset for the last 5 miles. A runner’s crew that had played with Fuller at an earlier aid station adopted me, going through a checklist of things I might need. I told them I just needed to close my eyes for 2 minutes, and as soon as I did, I felt hands massaging my shoulders. I made a joke about how bad I must smell, but the small gesture has continued to affect me; ours is a fantastic sport made that way by the people who do it.

While shorter, the very last section had its fair share of climbing and a few technical stream crossings. I ran most of it with two guys who’d been encouraged to run together by the aid station workers; at this point, there was safety in numbers. We were joined by Gainesville pacing a runner; she had apparently dropped early, but had enough energy left for pacing duties. Together we navigated the ‘unmarked’ section, and soon we were back on Boy Scout property. I had forgotten how torturous this part was; to achieve the advertised 101.85 race distance, the course makes a long swing around the camp before leading back to the finish. 

Really raising 'em right.

Once back on the road, I was surprised how easy running felt, and I encouraged the two guys ahead of me to run it in with me for a three way finish. About 100 yards before the finish line, I saw a familiar looking green tent with a small bundle inside, and heard Jordan say “is that you, Nathan?” They had camped out until 2:30 AM waiting for me to finish!! Fuller was sound asleep in his tent, and Jordan had brought me a Hardee’s burger (long cold, but oh, so good!). I crossed the finish line with my companions, shook race director Clark Zealand’s hand, thanking him by saying “you are a bad man!”

While not as fast as I hoped, I am incredibly happy with this race. I’ve never felt so prepared for a race, and then been able to execute a race plan and even adapt to things I hadn’t expected. Grindstone is a first class race, well organized with fantastic volunteers and some impressive sponsors. Seeing Jordan and Fuller throughout the second half was so great; I always tell folks that he’ll either adopt this running way of life like his parents, or write a book about how we messed up his childhood. I jokingly promised myself that once I finished Grindstone, I wouldn’t have to run again in 2018; three weeks out, I’m running comfortably again, and anxiously waiting for lottery day like a kid at Christmas.

So happy, with the 'bad man' RD (L)