I re-booked my cancelled hotel room, gathered everything I would need for a full day in the woods, and on Friday, June 14th, I headed to Ohio. If you have never been to Mohican, well, it is a sight to behold. Several hundred runners show up Friday night for bib pickup and the pre-race meeting. I have been to other race events like this and it's pretty much a grab-your-bib-listen-to-the-guy-talk-and-get-out-of-there situation. Not here. This is where a small family of trail runners comes together. So many people come back to this race year after year and this night feels like a homecoming. There is a food truck, plenty of beer, and hugs and hellos from everyone. This is a place you want to be. While I waited for my friends to show up, I noticed a guy sitting and eating alone. Well, that's not acceptable, so I went over and introduced myself. It turned out that he was here for the 100 mile race, all the way from Bermuda. He is technically from Great Britain, but flies to the US a couple times a year for races. As we chatted I took it all in. My favorite part? The shirts. "Lost on Purpose" "Beavers Rule" "Fuck this. I'm going trail running." "Anti-quit" "Burning River" "Vertical Mile" "Avoid the Road" "Happy Trails" See what I mean? THESE ARE MY PEOPLE.
My 4am alarm Saturday did its job and I popped out of bed and got ready in a hurry. A quick stop for coffee and I headed towards Loudonville, Ohio in the dark. I arrived to Mohican State Park shortly after 5am and headed with some other 50 mile runners to the starting area. The 100 mile runners had a 5am start and they were already off on their adventure in the woods. By 5:30, there was quite a bit of daylight, and everyone was making their last minute preparations: drop bags in the right spots, bug spray, lube, sunscreen, bathroom breaks...
As we neared our 6am start, we migrated towards the starting area, casually chatting with those around us, as we tried to calm our nerves and excitement. 50 miles is no small task and we just wanted to get going!
And then it was time. A short distance on the paved road through the campground, over a wide bridge, and we headed into the woods. This was my third year in a row running the 50, and knew what to expect: a big backup as a large pack of runners situated into a single file line to begin the first climb. And it was slow. I'm talking a 17 minute mile slow. But we were all in the same boat, and there wasn't anything we could do about it. I knew after the first aid station it would thin out a bit, so I just followed the girls in front of me and chattered along. It was their first 50, they said. Then they said I looked like I knew what I was doing and did I have any tips! Me? Ha! My advice? Keep moving. No matter what. I think that made them nervous. Oops. But it was good advice.
All I wanted to know was the distance to the next aid station. I find that breaking up a race like this into small, workable sections is much less overwhelming than thinking about running 50 miles all at once. Less than five miles to the next aid station? Sweet. Time to take in the sights. I don't know what it is about these trails, but I just can't get enough of them.
From the mossy bridges,
to the rocky, rooty switchbacks,
to the skinny winding paths,
to the tall, waving pines,
it is such a great place to be. By mile 6.5, I could hear the next aid station. I knew we weren't close, so they had to be rockin'. What a tease! Finally, Fire Tower Aid Station was in sight.
I had some watermelon and a couple squares of pb&j, and took my customary orange pic.
And then it was time to get down to business. The next stretch would hold the famous cave area, but there was work to do to get to it.
This section holds long climbs,
muddy downhills,
bridges,
rocks and roots,
and more mud. Shoe sucking mud.
But the reward? The reward is soooo worth it. First you descend a bunch of stairs...
and then you descend some more...
and then you're like, "YESSSSSSSS!"
The muddiness and the hard climbs and the heat and exhaustion all melt away and for a few moments, you feel like you're in another world. Time stops for a second. You forget you're in a race. You feel lucky to be here-lucky to be in a place your own two legs carried you. And you know this is one of those moments you will remember forever.
Getting to this place in the race is such a high point, the next mile flies by as you run along the banks of the river. The trail leads you up a little climb and then you're in the daylight, greeted by crew members and onlookers, and then it's down the steeeeeeeep cement stairs and back along the other side of the river.
The forest gets thick again and there are a few more bridges to cross and then you see THE bridge: Covered Bridge Aid Station.
This is a little oasis along the river and it comes at just the right time. The volunteers grab packs and water bottles to fill them, and I snack on watermelon and oranges and more pb&j squares. The sky had been threatening rain most of the morning, and as the drops finally started to fall, I stuck my phone into a baggie and headed out. At the beginning of the next section there were some serious climbs. I knew what was coming. Up, up and more up. I came up behind a woman who was struggling. I encouraged her to keep moving and she muttered, "I don't know why I thought I could do this race." I told her not to give up and that she COULD do it, and she basically yelled at me, "NO I CANNOT DO IT." Eeek. I carried on.
Once you get past the climbing portion of this section, things open up a bit. This is where you enter into the Hickory Ridge area. Just before you're actually up on the ridge, you get to pass through this area of tall trees and bright greenery. It is such a nice treat after the darkness of the forest and it always lifts my spirits.
The trail goes up higher and higher until you're on the ridge. Up here there is always a wonderful breeze and it reminds me of northern Michigan. The trail is wide and rooty and if you're paying attention, you'll get to check out the little troll village tucked into the backside of a tree!
The trail slowly winds down off of the ridge through rolling forests of bright green. It is a beautiful area of the park and I am reminded of how diverse this Mohican course is.
And then I can see it: Hickory Ridge Aid Station.
Since leaving the Covered Bridge Aid Station, I had slowly started to pass some of the 100 mile runners. Although they started an hour before us, the smart ones know that to finish 100 miles on this course, the key is to keep a slow an steady pace. With only a 55% finish rate for the 100 mile course, I felt nothing but awe and admiration for those runners. They had a tough road ahead of them. A few were already down in the dumps, before even finishing the first of their four loops, but some were just going with the flow, like this butterfly and her sidekick.
The runners really start to space out by this point in the race and the forest is quiet and seems a little never-ending.
But then, as you approach the campground, you see the Nerd Herd bell and you ring it,
and it propels you onward. Up and down roads and around the lake at the campground and you pass families preparing lunch and riding bikes and testing the water with their toes and you remember that there are other things happening on this day. You've been wrapped in yourself in the forest, on the trails, and you're back to reality now.
Up next, a right turn and a paved path back to the starting area.
As I come into this aid station, I'm starting to feel it. Nothing hurts, but I'm feeling the time on my feet. I grab some food and drinks and sit down in the grass. I am envious of the man next to me whose wife brought him a 20 pack of chicken nuggets from McDonald's. I see a man getting his arm looked at by the medics and I hear someone say it's broken. A fellow runner with whom I had shared some miles heads over to the "foot care" tent to have his shoes and socks changed by the professionals. But I just sit. I eat my potato chips and I take my time doing so.
And then I get to my feet, fill my pack with water, and start towards the second loop. I take one more look back and I miss the bustle of it already. A human hive of activity.
As I turn to start down the trail, I glance up to see the man who was in front of me was headed in the wrong direction. "Sir!" "EXCUSE ME!" He stops and turns. "The trail goes this way!" He shakes his head, thanks me, and follows me back onto the course. Over the rocks I go.
And then over the wide bridge in the campground.
And then onto the tiny trail that leads deep into the forest.
And across the mossy bridge.
As I begin the first climb, something catches my eye off to the right. I turn to see baby raccoons! I think it's a sweet moment for a second until I realize that their mother is clearly not alive. And then I feel sad. And a little grossed out. Were they eating her or nursing on what was left before the flies completely ruined her? Ugh.
Focus, Amie. Oh, look! Weird orange mushrooms! This is the only place in the whole forest I had seen them. Was I standing on my head?! This is getting crazy!
As I came into Gorge Overlook for the second time, I was feeling down. I grabbed a burrito and headed out, but I was lonely. I hadn't really talked to anyone in hours. I needed some interaction or I was going to lose it.
In a particularly low moment, I was walking when a man passed and asked if I was ok. I told him I was just having a moment. He asked if I was eating enough? Drinking enough? Did something hurt? Nope I was being mopey for no reason. As he started to leave me behind I said, "Hey, do you mind if I just stick with you for a bit?" He welcomed me to join him and we went down the trail together. We chatted about running and racing and he'd ask everyone we'd pass how they were doing. Turns out, this was his first 50, but he seemed like a seasoned ultrarunner. I was enjoying the trail once again.
We were both feeling the miles by this point and we were very happy to see that Covered Bridge Aid Station.
I told him I needed a bathroom break and if he wanted to continue on without me, he should go. I'd never want to hold anyone back. But he waited. We left together, ready for the long climb up to Hickory Ridge. He was so patient with me, slowing to walk when I needed a break, and I'd do the same for him. We talked about our kids and our jobs and life goals and hidden talents. There's something about struggling together that makes you just spill your guts, you know? The conversation and camaraderie were race-changers for me. I was so thankful I had found Michael.
By the time we made it to the Hickory Ridge Aid Station, boy, were we anxious to be done. We spent a little extra time here, making sure we had enough to eat, enough water to get us to the finish and making sure our heads were in the game.
We had talked lightly about finish times earlier in the day, and now that the end was in sight, we had the opportunity to make a plan. If we could cover the next six-ish miles in less than an hour and a half, we'd finish before 7pm and we'd get to see the 50 mile awards ceremony. We decided it was doable and we went for it. By no means were we moving with great speed, but we had purpose and we weren't messing around. At this point, it hurt to walk and it hurt to run, so we mostly ran. We had been going back and forth with another 50 mile runner most of this second loop and he stuck with us, too. With just a couple of miles to go, I can't tell you if I was more excited to be done or for Michael to finish his first 50. There is just something about that first 50 mile finish that is extra-special. Through the campground and down the road, and we were not slowing. We were on a mission and we were going to finish strong. Under the bridge and over a little stream and I told Michael to GO. He took off, as fast as he could go, and got that 50 mile finish. I came in a few seconds behind him, so happy to be done. I had done it. When I asked a woman at the finish line to take my picture, she randomly grabbed two other finishers to be in the photo with me. How fitting that it was Michael and our other runner friend. I cherish this photo because without these two men, my day would not have been the same. We had pushed each other for hours, and we triumphed together at the end.
An added bonus was that we had made it under our 7pm time limit we had given ourselves. With a 12 hour and 45ish minute finish, we had time to spare before the awards ceremony! I sat there for a long time after and watched runners get their medals. They posed with their families and their friends and they were proud. They had spent an entire day on the trails of Mohican State Park and they had come out victorious. For a race that almost didn't happen, I was so happy with the outcome. I was dirty and I was so tired, but my heart was full.
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| photo cred: Stuart Siegfried |
