The windows vibrate as the rain beats upon them and the thunder rolls. The weather has no noticeable effect on most of the crowd, but a few grow nervous as it continues. They get up from their dinner to go put more clothes in their drop bags. A bit later, we drive through the heavy rain to our room in Front Royal. The thunder booms and lightning strikes continue well into the night. The rain has stopped sometime during the night and it looks like it might be a pretty day. While the others carry next to nothing, Joyce & I have the look of adventure racers with our stuffed camelbacks. Rain jackets, heater packs, gloves, & socks. Should the weather turn foul, we'll be set. If it stays nice, we'll use next to nothing. We choose not to gamble this time. We check in on the 2nd floor and then settle in to wait. The room fills slowly and then empties quickly. We pour onto the porch while the blessing is read.

Mother's Day in the mountains with my wife. I can't think of a better way to share the experience. Joyce has paced me for so many miles in so many races, it's my turn to return the favor. She likes to think I'm pacing her the last 100 miles. We begin by crossing a field to a paved road. It's still quite dark, so we begin with flashlights. The mood and the pace are relaxed and comfortable. Subdued nervous babble fills the air as we move along the paved road for two and a half miles. The mindless chatter stalls as our herd turns off road. Some stop at the aid station but we have no reason and pass it by. We leave civilization behind at the trailhead.

Neither of us have grand aspirations or lofty goals. We intend only to enjoy the time and expect to finish in time. Buzzard Rock Trail is an easy climb. We're full of energy and it's still too dark to see the slope. We climb 1000ft in a mile, entering the Elizabeth Furnace area on our way up to Shawl Gap. Sam & Moogy are just in front of Joyce & I. I can't see them but I can hear Sam mooing at "Moooooogy" in a deep baritone every now and then. The inane babble continues as we ascend. Somewhere in here, the sun rises and we discover that our friends are gone. At the Shawl Gap crosstrails, we make a left and begin descending rapidly on the Shawl Gap trail down into a big crowd at the Shawl Gap aid station.

Our first drop bag is here. We extract our high cal drinks and drop our flashlights. It's humid and I'm soaking wet already, but I'll dry off quickly. Our good friend Bill is the Grim Reaper for this run, watching the cutoffs and pulling those who miss it. Right now, he's having a lot of fun with it, teasing and encouraging. At the pre-race we where told to avoid Bill. I process this for a moment and then check my watch. I can't believe how close we are at the very first cutoff already. I usually don't dance with the cutoffs, so it seems a bit odd. We have not dallied and yet we're too close. I don't say a word to Joyce but simply roll out ahead of her, hoping she’ll follow, and quickly. We slip out and roll down the road. Not much to this section. It's all road. Down a few miles to the next aid station at Veach Gap. No drops here and no plans but to get to the next one. We drink some Gatorade and keep moving. Still too close to the grim reaper. Bill's a great guy but I don't care to see him at every aid station. Seeing Bill means we're way too close.

A tough climb up the Veach Gap Trail takes us from road to ridge. We stop a few times to steal a look at the plains and the Shenandoah River well below us. The river's meandering is so wide that it looks like parallel rivers lined up one to the next all running away from the mountains. Once on top, we begin to make better time rolling along the ridge. My bladder seems to be malfunctioning: the internal one. I feel like I need to whiz every few minutes but I can't seem to produce. Odd. I don't know what to make of it. I keep stopping to go, but can’t. Bill Nictakis catches us after one of my many stops and then runs with us for a bit. While still on the Massanutten Trail ridgeline, we roll into Milford Gap Aid station.

Mike Bur is here and helps us refill our camelbacks. It’s hot and we're going through a lot of water. We're both on a steady cycle of salt caps and also taking sandwiches and chips at the stations. And we're also staying right with our high cal drinks. Up 'til now, I didn't think overly much about the cutoffs, but now I'm beginning to wonder if we're just going way too slow. I didn't expect to be on the back of the bus so soon. We have another good downhill coming up after a bit more ridgeline. The Indian Grave Ridge Trail is cut into the side of the mountain, skimming between rock and tree as it hangs on edge, more deer track than tourist trail. This one is a lot of fun and I sure am sad to see it eventually turn into dirt road. I'm starting to understand how this course goes. Climb to the ridge, then drop down for aid, and repeat. We follow Bill down the dirt road, which seems to go on for a while and we have enough time to watch this fellow build his home on the bank of the Shenandoah. We get a real good close-up of the river this time. The big wide river floats just off our left, 100 yards away. Peaceful and powerful, it draws me to it. I have a very strong urge to run over and jump in. We run-walk the road, same as all the others, right into Habron Gap station.

This is our first major planned break. Lunch time: we extract avocados and chips from our drop bags. We sit and change socks while we eat and drink. Our camelbacks are filled for us while we dine. I remain in short sleeve shirt and shorts, however salt coated they have become. The Injinjis Tsoks are working great. I love 'em. My toes have nary a hot spot. Bill Nictakis and Sam Voltaggio are both here but leave ahead of us. It's a long way to the next aid and I hear the climb is nasty, so I intend for us to be fueled up and feeling right before we get after it. Jay Finkle introduces me to his wife just before we head back out. Jay's having one heck of a good run while his wife crews for him. We go back down the road the way we came and then strait up from here. The Habron Gap Trail is a nice single track under a thick growth. We hook in with a few others but the trail is steep so we work on our breathing more than our talking. Takes a good while to reach the ridge this time, but once on, Joyce and I really start running well. Back on the Massanutten Trail once again, we enjoy some speed for a change. At the Stephen's Trail turn, we start more steeply down and really get going. We pass good ol Sammy V on one of the downhills. It sounds like rain around us, but it's not. Another runner informs us that it's Moth shit hitting the leaves by the thousands. Worms hanging from strands are colliding with us and sticking to our clothes, hair, and skin. We hook up with Roy and run with him for a while, then bounce back and forth with us eventually falling behind him.

Camp Roosevelt is a blur. Nothing to keep us, so we roll on. A long slow climb up Duncan Hollow trail on the edge of Catback Mountain. I'm soaking wet from sweat. Buzzing flies and bugs are diving into our ears, stinging us. We tie bandanas around our heads to keep them out. On to Gap Creek Trail at Peach Orchard Gap where we turn right. We climb a bit more at first and then drop down into Gap Creek aid station.

Michelle Burr and Mike wait on us and treat us wonderfully while we eat and change socks yet again. They top off our bladders and bring us food. We spend way too much time here but do eventually leave. The support and encouragement is awesome. What a wonderful group of people. Jawbone Gap Trail leads us up to Jawbone Gap. A stiff climb but we’re getting adjusted to these by now. We hook up with a volunteer who is walking up to steer the leaders as they come through. They're 25 miles ahead of us by now and expect to reach the Gap just ahead of us soon. We turn left at the summit. The next time through this same spot, we’ll go strait. The wind was dead still until the summit, but now we have a nice bit of breeze. The climb slows us, allows us to walk without guilt. I had been warned about Kerns Mountain and now we’re on it. A rock roller coaster: the first of two major Massanutten Rock Gardens. Once on ridge, Joyce and I begin to push it, riding the rock wave along the ridge. There are plenty of rocks, but we get buzzed up as we get faster and dumber. The trail drops us down onto the Crisman Hollow Road where we make a right and then really start to fly. It has a steep enough grade to keep me rolling downhill. Joyce stretches her legs out and gets going very strongly as well. Feels good to finally stretch the legs out like this. The road bends sharply to the right and then loops back underneath itself to the left. Soon after, we cross over Hwy-211 at New Market Gap and enter the Visitors Center aid station. Bill is again waiting on us.

We have plenty of gear here in preparation for the night and the cold but with it being so warm there is little need, so I just change socks again while Joyce puts on an entire new outfit. I also pack two flashlights into my pack. We eat avocados and chips along with our standard hi cal drinks. We waste a bit of time here, but feel refreshed when we move out. A short descent down to the trail split. Then a right turn up the Massanutten South Trail. As we climb, we’re passed by quite a few going the other way. It's really pleasant to see so many people after seeing so few for so long. We get to see Moogy again and also Molly Gibb. The climb takes awhile and the views from the summit are gorgeous. We stop just to have a look and then continue on to the split. Runners are coming in from strait ahead while we turn left. After the turn, the population dwindles down to just Joyce & I. The trail is a wide cut on a flat plateau, plain and non-descript. We can still hear others, but see no one until we reach the Bird Knob aid station. Another runner rushes out ahead of us as we come in.

We continue past the station in the same direction and then make a right turn on a road. At a split in the road, we see bits of red ribbon on both sides and have to think about it for a few. Then I spot a yellow ribbon down a bit on the left. We keep on down and cross a creek then around the next bend, but not sure this is right as it appears to be going up and away from the direction that I know we need to go. I start rushing down the trail faster in search of another marker to confirm we are going right. And when I do see the next marker, I feel much better but still very disoriented. We’re still going the wrong way! It's now starting to get dark and the last thing I want is to be off course in the dark. We rush blindly ahead and then see more markers, so I’m now rather confident that we are on track. And the route does finally appear to be bending back the way we came, although another ridge over. I know we go back to the same trail, but we’re on the wrong ridge. Nothing to do but follow blindly and hope we bridge over somehow. I'd prefer to go without lights for a bit longer but feel the need to find the markers. Joyce remains without light behind me. We catch up the other runner who had gone out ahead and he stays with us for a bit and then falls off. Eventually, we do finally reach the same split. Some people are hanging glow sticks at the intersection. One is the same volunteer we met at Jawbone Gap. We see no others coming up the trail, so we’re either dead last or the last ones are right behind us on this little end loop at Bird Knob. Hard to believe that with only 50 miles down, we’re the tail of the beast, and she's wagging us about trying to toss us off. But we hang on. We pass near the Visitor's Center, but it's quiet up there now. They've shut down and gone home. Looks like we get to shut down all the stations as we slide through, a couple of late nighters getting served last shots. Now I know why they all love us so much. They can go home after we leave. The trail flattens out and gets a bit confusing through the haunted forest as I wander this way and that. It's really difficult making out the trail through here as the glowsticks all seem to be dead and the ribbons are rare. The trail is plain enough, but I'm a bit punchy now. And with night being so new, I’m not quite used to the dark yet. We stop quite a few times as we work out the route. I never get off course but I am slowed a bit just trying to make out our next move. In daylight, you can probably see right through this stuff and maybe it’s perfectly clear, but damn am I confused. We can hear the station before we see the light up on a rise. We climb up to a rowdy bunch, including Mike Bur and friends. He's waiting for Rich Limacher, who’s right behind us.

Our stomachs' are starting to roil, so we careful take in warm broth. To save me from the demons, I lube up my vitals with Desiten. I collect our backup lights from our drops, and then we slip across Hwy-211 heading north. The jeep road angles left and up. We turn onto single track that starts well enough, being a well-groomed trail that crosses over a creek and then starts to roll strongly uphill. Rich & Mike speed past us just before it really starts to get nasty. Our feet get soaked, as the trail becomes a muddy slog strait up the side of the mountain through a twisted rocky creek. Slowly, we trip, slide, and crawl up the beast, each of us with a large troll on our shoulders. The heavy rock demons cover our mouths so we can't breathe while their fat heavy butts weigh us down with a thousand unanswered questions. A few others pass us, each carrying their own burdens. Silently we stop to visit nature once again: yet another time killing process. As we near the summit, I check my watch. It's midnight! I stop to wait for Joyce and as she comes up wondering why I've stopped, I give her a hug and a kiss. 'Happy Mother's Day, gorgeous!" 'Tis good for a smile which powers us back to Crisman Hollow Road heading back to Gap Creek aid station. Shane and his pacer hook up with us for a few jokes on our way in.

Michele and Mike once again take care of us, feed us, and send us out with smiles and encouragement. We have been here before and we've been up the Jawbone Gap Trail as well. We're also about as slow as we where the first time. I take a break on top while Joyce visits the bears, and then we head over the top in the company of three guys. It's a steep downhill grade, which we stumble along until it levels off just a bit. A road waits on the bottom which we cross over and enter the Moreland Gap aid station. I must be sleeping because it seems way too short.

It’s the wee hours and our brains have gone to sleep, while our bodies continue to toil. We're both nodding badly and far from done. The beast waits: Short Mountain is finally upon us. I've heard the horror stories and have looked forward to finally seeing it for myself. Now if I can only keep my eyes open. We continue to shut down stations as we pass through and they'll shut this one down also after we walk out. There's no coming back. Our little band of a half dozen walks out in ones and twos, each battling to stay alive. Joyce and I go out slowly, sipping broth. We're not far back of the others, but they disappear immediately. We see nobody ahead or behind. Did we miss a turn? We keep on, climb a bit, and then as we reach a road, three people are there. A sign says 'Short Mountain'. One of the runners quits right there and starts walking north on 374, taking the road to Edinburg. Joyce & I cross over and start up ahead of the others, and then they both pass us. We’re in the belly of the beast and the rocks work their magic! Hallucinations begin in earnest. Poor footing and lack of sleep keep us off balance physically and mentally. A long climb up large broken rocks begins the process. Once on top, everything looks the same. I feel as if I'm stuck in a loop, running the same section over and over again. Not many markers or maybe I just can't raise my head and look for fear of slicing a leg open on a rock. We clamber about, walking fast now and then, mixed with hopping lodges, climbing, and even falling. There’s no place which we can actually run. It’s near impossible! I try once or thrice but warning bells go off each time. It’s stupid to even attempt it. Should I be so dumb, I’m certain that Joyce is not. David Hughes yo-yos with Joyce and I, and then disappears behind us. The minute hand on my watch begins to spin rapidly. Time is flying and I am not. Rocks, rocks, everywhere, unbelievable amount of rocks. The almighty smote this mountain damned hard and shattered everything. Now and again, I have to stop to shine my light in every direction just to find my way. Patterns! I look for tracks or trails in the rocks in the dark. A seam, a track, a flow that makes sense. Anything that leads me to believe a lot of people have gone in any given direction. I start to read the signs better and faster after a bit, but another problem arises... the tracks all begin to look the same. I begin to wonder if I'm not going in a big circle. The some patterns begin to repeat. A rock lying against a tree, a certain sequence of rocks, a specific turn and downward direction starts to look too familiar. Am I going in circles? I dare not say a thing to Joyce. She trusts my instincts and believes I'll get her through this. I trust my instincts better than what I'm seeing. I no longer believe anything I see. I'm hallucinating whatever I expect to see. A bridge, a road, a tent! Hours in the rocks and the patterns start a gentle downward trend, or maybe I'm just starting to notice it. And then some grass and pine needles. The sun is coming up so we put our lights up. I'm peeing every 15 minutes now and with the sunlight I can now see that there's blood in my stream. This aint good. I wonder about telling Joyce and decide it's best that I do. I don't want her to worry about me but she needs to know. I hear a power generator in the direction we’re moving. It gets louder. Could it be the aid station? Closer and closer we get. I check my watch. We have 20 minutes before the cutoff. We're near and running for the first time in awhile, anxious to get in and out before the cutoff. So near... and then, the trail bends to the right and wraps back around the mountain going away from the sound and up. I can't believe it. Joyce slows down, deflated, disappointed. We will certainly miss the cutoff and she wants so bad to get this finish. I run ahead looking for flags, wandering if I missed the turn. I sprint uphill, foraging ahead for the flag, not sure if I want to find it or not. I run on up the next 100 yards, around the bend and then I see the flag. I go back down and tell Joyce, but now we have lost our momentum. The drive has gone and we stumble ahead, no longer certain of finding the station any time soon. It leads downhill again, and then we see a campsite. Our spirits lift and then we realize it's not the station. We go on and then we do find the Edinburg Gap aid station and Bill, the reaper! We walk into Edinburg completely drained. Bill says we have to hurry. We ask him about medical staff and blood mixed with urine, and get a negative response, except he had the same problem also, years ago. We sit while Bill refills our bladders and dishes out some soup. Anyway, we decide to keep going and just pay attention to it.

The close cuts are wearing Joyce down. The stress grows large. Time is killing us slowly. The tension mounts until she pulls ahead and starts to sprint. I follow as best I can but hang on just barely. Her drive is powering us forward. Her strength of will remains strong even though her body is weak. My pride swells up and brings a tear to my eye. She’ll not stop until they tell her she’s done. Joyce goes for a powder again, so I take the time to change my socks. The next section is just as long as Short Mountain, but cannot be as nasty. We remain on the main Massanutten Mountain Trail as we roll across 675 and start back up once again. We climb for a bit but not nearly as long as most of the previous climbs. It's also morning and we have a new life with the power of the sunrise. We top out at Waonaze Peak quicker than usual, skim across, and then start a very long slow descent on Powell Mountain. It’s a dream. There are no rocks! Joyce gets in front and really starts to fly. She's fired up after the near miss. She's found a whole new motivation to power her on. I change gears a few times just so I can hang on. Damn is she moving! We buzz by a few folks, including Rich and Mike. She says something about an aid station and then realizes it's just a tree. It may be daylight but she's still hallucinating pretty well. This downhill goes for a long ways and she hold pace for miles. After a bit, we roll across the ridge and then skim along the west side of the mountain and just below the ridge. I've been hearing voices for a while and do just realize the voices are no more than my camelback shushing across my back. And my poor vision is leading me to believe so many optical illusions that a better set of eyes might never see. So it’s a frolicking good time hanging on to my wife as she sprints all out after 80 miles. There’s not enough oxygen for my brain to manage it all correctly. I just keep my mouth shut about all the things I see and run like hell. And then we take a big dip and back up again, pass a hang gliders launch site where you can see for many miles out into the plains. A sign says Woodstock is 1 mile ahead. We run for a mile to see another sign that says Woodstock is a half-mile ahead. We expect to run another mile to see a sign that says Woodstock one-quarter mile. And then we fall out of the trees down to road 758 which we cross over to the Woodstock Tower aid station and Bill.

Joyce just won us back some time. Time in the bank she calls it. Never thought I'd hear that phrase used after 80 miles. Joyce is excited and depleted. That may have been her final big push. This is our last planned stop. I change into clean shorts, shirt, socks, bandana, & hat. My second day sun suit. Another high cal drink and some broth. Joyce takes care of her own means as well. Mike & Rich come in as we leave. We remain on the ridge for a bit longer before we start to fall off. We're now on Three Top Mountain heading due north on the same old Massanutten mountain Trail. It quickly becomes a general downhill through a thick growth of woods that seems to go on forever. I'm expecting to see a road and begin to see quite a few of them. Unfortunately none of them are real. The hallucinations are starting to irritate me, as I don't know what is real and what is not. We're nodding badly, stumbling downhill, bumping into trees, and tripping on rocks. You'd think all this bumbling would wake us up, but no such luck. I keep getting ahead of Joyce, and when I wait for her, I nod off. I need to keep moving to stay awake, but I have to wait. My eyes are on rapid blink mode now and this is all starting to feel like a bad dream I can't escape from. Let me sleep, or let me wake, but let me be. Joyce is dealing with the same problems I am. I realize she's barely awake as well. She's slow because she's asleep, exhausted, and depleted. I continue to go ahead and wait, again and again. I see more roads and people that don't exist and speed ahead each time to confirm nothing. And then finally we see the road way down low under us. It is a good ways off but for some reason, I think this one is real. Joyce pushes ahead with a burst, but I cannot find the energy she suddenly has and follow slowly. The road is real and once on it, we’re confused about the direction. We go left into a lot but no station. It must be close. We go through a field and then down a path, cross a creek, and then see Powell's Fort Camp aid station. Joyce lays down on the picnic table bench and goes to sleep. I lie on the other side and do the same. 5 minutes max! We fill our bladders with water and ice, get up and stumble out.

We're not doing too well right now. One eye blink from completely asleep, even closer to completely exhausted, stomachs rolling one hiccup from a vomit, and the mid-day sun is now beating down on us. We're so close and yet so far. I decide to run ahead of Joyce, to pull her along, to motivate her to go faster. She knows she can do the distance, but there is some doubt that we can beat the cutoffs. I drop back now and again to check on her and then up ahead once again. Each time I drop back, she slows, so she trains me to stay ahead. We follow a jeep road out and I attempt to push the pace, but I can't get Joyce into more than a stumble. The road is still part of the main Massanutten Mountain Trail as it shares a bank with the Little Passage Creek. Sure does look clean and refreshing. I have an idea. 'Joyce, get into the creek' Say what? I take her over the creek where we strip down and climb in. She sees snakes that don't exist and even talks me into seeing them too, but there are none. We dunk ourselves, scrub our filthy toes, and then dry off and dress. What a difference! We both have new life and again get going. Shannon goes by as we get back on the road, so we hook up and ride his wake. Not completely recovered but at least with some semblance of energy, we do get going again. Even when we get to the climb, Joyce moves well, following me up to the summit and down the other side. I begin to pick up pace, and turn once in time to see her slowly picking her way through a mid trail mud bog. I tell her to get over it and just blast through them. Once processed, she no longer dallies at the bogs but blasts right through. We really get moving well and finally see somebody in front of us. We’re not alone. There are others still out here trying desperately same as us to beat the clock. We can hear the cheers below us on the road, but just like before, we turn away just as we draw near and go away from the sound and back up hill. Further and further away we go. This time, we just ride it out and keep flying until finally we turn down towards the road. Harry Smith is hiking up looking for a friend and says we're a half-mile from the station. We no longer believe anybody by now, but keep on going, expecting it to be much further. Down we go and finally road 678. We cross over and then right over a bridge, and left on the other side for a short trail into the Elizabeth Furnace aid station. Bill is once again waiting on us.

Popsicles and watermelon make our day. We keep our bladders at half full this time and leave the final aid station with 2:15 to go the final 5 miles. I'm bouncing all over, insane with urgency, not knowing what's next and if we have enough time. To be this close only to miss the final cut keeps us motivated. Feeling the urgency as much as ever, I flit all over the place, moving up the Shawl Gap Trail in a wandering east direction. Joyce remains steady and strong, doing her best power walk some 50 yards back. This last rise really doesn't amount to much, but my impatience portents one blind summit after another. With our new found motivation and drive, it doesn't take long. The top of the mountain is very obvious once we gain it. We spill across with Joyce taking lead and then she starts sprinting downhill. She charges through every mud hole, barely slowing at turns, and pushing constantly forward. I stop her on the bottom just so I can dunk my head one last time in a creek. We go past Shane, then John Prohira and friend as we flatten out near the bottom. Leaving the mountain for the remaining road section, we now know for certain we will make the final cutoff. We hook up with Shannn on the gravel road and run with him to road 613 and turn on road 608. As we exit the road to enter a field, Joyce & I pull ahead. A tree covered bridal path, flat and serene. Through a gate on the other side, we turn left into another field and can see the resort and the flags lined up for the final approach to the finish. We go side-by-side into field and round to the finish. It is done. Joyce starts crying as we cross the line. She gives me a hug and a kiss. Molly Gibb and Michelle Burr are there and all three of them hug and cry while I escape to the kiddy pool. Joyce had no doubts she could do the distance, but we wondered if we could beat the cutoffs. We rode the edge of them for the entire race, never knowing for certain we would reach the next one in time. After a few failed attempts for various reasons, I can tell you that the lady is a bit excited about finally nailing a 100 miler down. All the doubts have been removed.

I sit, remove my shoes, and stick my feet in a pool. Mike hands me a cold beer. We had passed just a few people coming down the last mountain, and these people all come in right behind us. Our small group are the last finishers. We celebrate each of their victories as if it is ours. Sammy's waiting on us, has already collected all our drop bags, and also hands Joyce two roses, one from each of us in celebration of Mother's Day and her finish. Joyce's smile sticks on her face and remains there for a very long time.