This is a picture of the backside finish at the Highland Sky 40 Mile Run in Canaan Valley:
Unfortunately for me, this is the only view I got this year. While I had planned on a redemption run for a finish 5 mins over the 12 hour cut off in 2011, it didn't quite work out that way. Instead, after making it to mile 32.9, I dizzily picked my way over a short rocky descent to a waiting car, where I was forced to admit defeat.
The day didn't start that bad. The weather looked promising, I felt pretty good, and was optimistic that I could make the last cut-off at 27 miles that would allow me to continue on to the finish.
The bus ride was uneventful and the knowing driver even let us out just steps from the port-a-pots, so that wasn't a problem. Everything felt great as I started the 2+ road miles before we hit the trail. It was still a little foggy and I noticed that the stream we ran alongside was pretty high, but we would be climbing soon, so how wet could it be? (BWAHAHAHAHA)
I AM SO NAIVE (read: ignorant) when it comes to this trail running stuff. Within the first 4 miles, we were already running up stream beds as the water poured down, and that was the easy part. Swollen streams necessitated ropes for crossing, and even then, I full out fell in one when the runner in front of me grabbed hard on the rope to steady himself. Not sure the etiquette for who lets go, but I did and no, it wasn't smart. At least this water was clean and even somewhat refreshing. Not true for the miles and miles of bog we churned through in most other places. The water was so black and so deep, I kept waiting for a snake to slither out and just wrap around my legs. After a while, I had to just not think of what I was stepping on, and continue on my way. Most places the water was high ankle to mid calf, but there was more than one step where I seriously sunk to my thigh. No choice but to pull the leg out like a huge suction cup and keep going. It was exhausting. Then there were the downhills. My trusty Brooks Cascadias held their own in the mud but were no match for running down waterfalls, which is what we ran down for most of the first half of the course. I slipped and fell more on this trail than I have in my previous four years of trail running. One of the more memorable "slips" was when I stepped on a rock just inches from the trail cliff edge and my leg started right down the side of the mountain. Luckily, a nice hard tree was able to catch that leg, but yeah, it left a mark. Even the one place I remember from 2011 that was relatively easy to run, was waterlogged and slippery. I kept telling myself it would get better, but really, for the first 19 miles, it just didn't! Finally hit the bridges, which although wet, weren't underwater, so that gave a much needed break before the mid way aid station. And I was almost there when another rock, another slip and this time the right leg was saved by another branch that pretty much skewered my quad. So I arrived the aid station with my husband wondering just what the hell had happened to me since I was dripping blood from both hands (the nettles) both knees, and a particularly nasty blow to my thigh.
Cut-offs were a huge problem and while I stayed about 15 minutes ahead for most of them, the last two were tight. I had about 12 minutes when I saw my hubby, so no time for much but sunglasses, refilling the pack, and some first aid. I was able to eat and drink, and grab and go. Off to the "road across the sky" and a walk/run to make the last hard cut-off. That I made with 5 minutes to spare, but I paid a price for sure.
Once I hit Dolly Sods, I had decided to take it easy for a little and walk some. Here it wasn't as soupy and I could keep up a pretty good pace. Plus, the scenery is just breathtakingly beautiful. But after a mile or two, my stomach started to hurt and I was getting dizzy. I kept focused and moved forward, but I could tell something wasn't right. I ate some more, and drank, but that did little to stop the dizziness and nausea. Splish splash through more black water, over rocks until the boulder hopping. By now I was on a mission, since I knew the 32.9 aid was not far away. In retrospect, when I think of how dizzy I was climbing across these enormous boulders, it was pretty stupid. But I still thought I could make it, and with three hours to go 8 miles, I was sure of a finish, and maybe even in 11:45, which would be amazing.
Closer to the aid, I started feeling the urge to get sick, and as I approached the aid station, I was having a mental battle with myself. Me: You can do this, it is only 7 more miles! Me: ARE YOU NUTS? YOU ARE GOING TO PUKE! YOU ARE DIZZY! FLIES ARE CHEWING YOU ALIVE! It went on like this for a few minutes while the aid workers gave me ginger ale and bug spray. I ate a piece of watermelon and sat on a rock watching horseback riders and trying to appreciate this gorgeous top of the world view. There was another runner in a tent nearby who had dropped earlier and was waiting for a ride. I so did not want to be him, so I went from dropping to not dropping to dropping. Finally, one of the very kind kids said "you know, you have to listen to your body" and I thought "yes, this time my body wins out over my very stubborn mind". And with that I dropped.
A ride back to the start, where hubby was parked in a chair at the finish waiting for me. Surprised to see me coming from the backside, he sat with me watching runners come in until I felt I could get up and get back to the lodge.
From there, things get a bit fuzzy. There was the dog yapping next door, the repeated trips to the bathroom, the paramedics, checking out at 2 a.m. and the 4 hour drive back to Baltimore since I insisted on going back there, and since the paramedics had kindly supplied us with a nifty car barf bag. Then the hospital, and three days later, I am still working my way back.
So many things contributed to this DNF, some from the race and some not. I remember someone saying that race day weather doesn't matter nearly as much as what the weather is like in the days proceeding the race, and this could not have been more true. The amount of water on these trails was incredible. The rocks and roots were so treacherously slippery that falls were pretty common. But even with this, I was able to persevere and make that final cut-off. My undoing came from probably something that is unrelated to this race or even trail running, so once that is sorted out, I might even consider making one more go of Highland Sky. It is just so amazing out there and such a gift to be able to run through so much beauty. And, they say, the third time is the charm!
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