Before The Deluge: Mountain Masochist

Having grown up in Virginia and Maryland, and with family still there, I’ve been hankering to find a good east coast trail run. Virginia is one of the most beautiful places in the world when the trees turn color in the fall, and so I’ve had my eye on the Mountain Masochist Trail Run 50 miler in southern Virginia for several years now.
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I thought this would be the year, but then this spring several Skagit running friends in Washington State decided to do a field trip back to DC for the USMC marathon, which is the weekend before. Peer pressure prevailed, and I signed up for USMC. Still, as the summer progressed, I couldn’t get away from the notion of giving MM a try. Finally, with a late registration, and a bit of rearranging of flights and plans, I went ahead and scheduled both, turning the trip into a 9 day visit with the folks. I was quite worried about trying to do both runs, inside of a week, as that obviously is a little much. So....I ran USMC, but not too seriously. The run I really wanted to do, and finish, was the Masochist.
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MMTR is hard. Hard enough, at least. It is longer than 50 miles, more like 54, or 50 “Horton” miles, named after the race founder and director for 25 years, David Horton, who seems to be a very good guy, with a curious habit of marking miles long. I think MMTR has 9200 feet in elevation gain, and about 7000 in loss. By east coast standards, the race is rather remote, traveling north through the middle of the George Washington National Forest, point to point. Some places just might be banjo country. My Dad, who accompanied me to the race, said it took him an hour to drive from one aid station to another at one point. MMTR is one of the most beautiful races I’ve done, because of the amazing red, green, yellow, and brown colors of the fall foliage, which cover hill after hill, throughout the race. Simply amazing, compelling smiles throughout the day.
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MMTR has a lot of history, and you can tell that it has developed a family of supporters, both with participants and volunteers. Great pre- and post-race dinners, with many laughs. I really enjoyed the sweet tea, the grits, the southern accents. The dinners sort of reminded me of the annual rendevouses that Rocky Mountain trappers used to have in the 1830s, where trappers would come from all over to trade furs, share stories, eat, and party together.
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This run has 16 aid stations in total, I believe—one bottle will do it. As you enter into each aid station, a sign lists the cutoff times, and so I was constantly doing the math in my head, figuring out where I was, and what I needed to do to increase my gap over the 12 hour pace cutoff. I figured I’d crash later, and the cutoffs are tough---the finisher rate this year was 72%.
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I found the course to be very runnable, not that I chose to do so all the time. The first 7 miles or so are on the beautiful Blue Ridge Parkway (a National Park, I believe), and then after that the course shifts to old logging type roads, mostly. The race starts in the dark---I saw a shooting star during the first 6 or 7 miles, and watched the sun rise over the James River, with trees reflected in it. Wide temperature variations—cold in the morning, warm in the afternoon. Once you hit the trails, there are creeks to rock hop, and puddles to jump. The second half of the course is substantially more challenging than the first half, in terms of elevation profile. Mile 22 to Mile 29 is a steady climb up Buck Mountain (which rhymes with schucks), and after that there are still several other sharp climbs. Placards with inspirational bible verses, along with Rocky music, are near the summit aid stations. The pitch on the climbs is rarely knock-your-socks-off steep, but the climbs are steady. Also, during the second half, the trail turns into single track more frequently, with significant leaf cover over ankle rolling rocks. It’s fun. Seriously.
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As for me, I started slow, and then began picking things up around the 3rd hour. I rather enjoyed the climbs—I’ve been doing lots of hills this year---and so I just pushed hard through them, doing ok, and enjoying the fall colors and the good spirits all around. My wheels came off a bit, though, when the sun came out in the early afternoon. I don’t do well with sun. I dragged tail through “the loop,” a single track trail somewhere b/w mile 30 and 40. I soldiered on. The final 3.5 miles were downhill, and at that point, I found a little bit of something, and just let gravity pull me in, right under 11 hours. I’m happy with my run—my only goals were to beat the cutoffs and finish, while checking out the Appalachian scenery.
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The race was MOST special for me because my Dad participated, traveling from aid station to aid station, helping me out, and seeing what I’m into. He lives in Virginia, and so I don’t get to share this with him—the trails, the community, the life, and I feel he got a real sense of it last weekend. For this reason alone, this race will always hold a special place in my heart.
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FN: New RD Clark Zealand and everyone else did an exceptional job with this race! It’s particularly cool to see how the race has gone techno, with a talking blog, sortable finishing stats, many race photos, great shirts, great race hotel, etc., etc. I expect I’ll be back, for this one, or maybe for one of the other many interesting races down this way.
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Check out the fall colors