It is May 22nd , dark, misty and nearly 5 AM. I have been jogging slowly around the Ramada Inn, Woodstock, Virginia to wake up my body and get a little circulation into my body for a last restroom visit before the start of the Old Dominion Memorial 100 miler. This will be my second run at this distance and after last nights obligatory weigh-in and briefing meeting, I learned that we would be 21 runners including one female, at the start. Only fifteen of us would finish, as six men bowed out for one or another reason.

At the start line I felt a bit lonely, as I knew none of the other runners. However, last night at the pre-race dinner I had shared table with several runners, but they were all 50 mile entrants who would start simultaneous with the 100 milers, but 200 yards ahead of us on the other side of the hotel. There was only one familiar face, the one behind the camera taking a picture of me before the start, namely my 15 year old son. He was my entire crew and provided important mental support and of great help when I would come in to the turn around at the hotel three times.

At 5 AM we were supposed to hear a car honk and take off, or as Mike Robertson, the mastermind behind this race, put it we would start with or without the car honk, when his watch showed 5 AM. And so it went, at 5 AM Mike said “GO” and off we went.

This was going to be a good race for me. It had to, as the weather was cool with a slight drizzle witch stopped after the start. My plan was the same as usual: run slowly and carefully from the start. However, this time I would actually follow my plan. The lead runners could do what they wanted, it was my race I was running not their.

It was still dark as we started, but there was enough city light to provide a glare that made the road visible. First we had to run a five mile loop once, before we would start our three serious 32 miles out and back loops. I let myself fall to the back of the starters and ran almost inside the beams of the car trailing us in the dark starting hour.

Quickly after the start I found myself falling into the pace of Mike Robertson and his two good friends, Harvey Hall who would finish fourth and Rick Schneider who finished eighth after a remarkable recovery from hamstring problems that nearly made him pull from the race. But it is wonderful see a person come back so strongly and even finish sub 24 hours (23:15).

Not many words were exchanged in the little flock amassed around Mike, but within hearing distance a runner was bragging about how many races he had completed with stress fractures and other injuries to his feet, shins and knees. One started wonder if this person’s lower extremities were one big heap of broken bones. But Mike saved his flock by increasing the pace enough to pull us out of harms way.

And now it was time to run the first full 32 miles out and back loop, and we were finally heading for the big hill. Oh boy, my nemesis as I had never really run hills before, I mean this would be a two mile hike up a 10% grade hill. The Houston area just does not offer that. But the race should prove my fear was unwarranted as long as I showed respect for the monster and paced myself correctly the six times I had to pass that top. Instead it turned out to be something else that should nearly take me out of the race at a time when I still had a chance to finish below 24 hours. But first I had more than two great out and backs to cover before trouble would mount up.

During the start I had noticed a strong looking pony tailed runner who had taken off like a rocket, but by the start of the 2nd 32 mile out and back, he had fallen back to my pace. I would learn that this was his fifth 100 miler and his name was Dale. He had a huge support team with him, which I got to know as Dale and I “see-sawed” the remainder of the race and actually ran many miles together.

Mike’s clan was breaking up. Harvey increased his pace while Rick Schneider’s hamstring was acting up badly. At the start of the 2nd 32 mile out and back his face read DNF loud and clear. But Rick came back very strongly and he looked great and confident when he passed me somewhat out in the second half of the race. I would like to know what trick he had pulled out of his drop bag. What ever it was, Rick’s finish in 23:15 hours I fully applaud, and it was exciting to watch his run evolve through these dramatic stages.

Another, exciting race to watch was the battle for the 50 M first place. I had spoken to Steve Hamilton the night before and he said he was running this 50 M race as part of his preparation for the WS 100 in late June. Impressively, Steve would end up taking the second place behind Rick Palmer, who was running his first ultra. I hope to see both in future races with their inspiring attitude and great enthusiasm.

It was also during the second 32 miler I was passed by the only female runner, Mary Kashurba. From some of the other participants I had heard she was struggling heavily with feet problems. As she passed me, we talked a little and she told me how she was preparing for the Badwater race this year, and she had been experimenting with shoes. She had eventually changed shoes and she was now on the roll and looked strong as she moved on to a finish in 22:41 hours.

My own race was going well. My goal was to finish faster than 27 hours and beat my time from RR100 in February. I was feeling great at the turn around point about 53 miles into the race. Soon after I was running with Dale again, who had picked up his first pacer, son-in-law Ryan. Dale assured me that we were on track for a sub 24 hour finish. And by gully, after some brain gymnastic I came to the same conclusion, well if my legs would keep up all the way. Hey, now this race turned from feeling good to being great and fun race. Dale’s inspiring prediction became extra fuel to my engine and I pushed on as I convinced myself that if I could start the last 32 miles with 8 ? hours left for a sub 24 hour finish, I would make it. Now I had a new target and I went for it.

Coming into the Ramada Inn for the start of the last 32 miles with just over 8 ? hours to spare on the 24 hour mark, was such an elating feeling. I felt on top of the world, though I also knew I was on the edge of my capacity. With help from my son, I quickly got refueled and changed into night gear. We were warned the temperature was going to drop, since the sky had cleared during the afternoon and there was not cloud cover to keep the temperature. I thought I felt great, but I had lost five pounds during the warmer afternoon. Hydration became a top priority as I headed out on the last 32 miles.

But I guess I was thinking too hard on hydration, because two miles out came a huge surprise to all of us. A thick and very wet thunder storm blew through and soaked us all regardless of where we were on the trail. From that moment it was a new race. The rain had altered everything. I climbed the mountain a fifth time, pushing a fast walk all the way up. My quads were screaming and the two miles of constant up and up just burned the thighs with lactic acid. I needed to sit for a few seconds to flush the muscles. Finally at the top the aid station was waiting, with hot chicken noodle soup and I spotted an empty chair.

This was when I blew a great sub 24 hour race finish. Before I could empty a cup of hot soup, I was freezing on that cold mountain top. The thunderstorm had soaked me and I was still wet plus the chilly air cooled me down faster than I could control. Now I was shivering and my teeth were clicking against each other. Suddenly I felt I could not handle this and my inner running flame started to flicker in the cold air. The dreaded DNF thought was creeping into my head. Bob Baska, an aid station person saw what was happening and offered me a dry sweatshirt if I would get my butt out of that chair and run down that mountain in the right direction. That did it. And feeling dry and a little warmer I raced down that hill toward the turn around point. In the dark night though, I could not use my head lamp the fog caused the flight to create a white wall in front of my face. Luckily, I also had my favorite green LED flashlight and that worked like a charm.

I am not sure what I noticed first, the light or Mike Robertson’s clicking teeth. Whatever, I found Mike getting warmed under a blanket at the next aid station. The rain had gotten to even the best of us. After I had a cup of soup Mike got up and we continued together toward the aid station at the turn around point, where we also caught up with Dale again. It was important to me to stick to some fellow runners at this point of the race. I was in a section where at my first 100 miler, I had reached a state of delirium and I was afraid that should happen again tonight. As we left this aid station we doubled out threesome since Dale got paced by his daughter and Mike by a son and daughter.

We were together to the aid station before our last big climb, at which point I followed Dale when he pulled slightly ahead of Mike. We made it to the top OK, though a bad chaffing in my groin area was bothering me more and more and my gate was suffering from that. A tempting thought was to run bottomless, but I was not alone and daylight was upon us soon.

As we were leaving the aid station at the top for our last big descent, we could hear Mike and his crew pull close. Descending a steep hill at this point of the race definitely was a challenge. My quads were challenging me, but the biggest screaming pain came from the chaffing groin area that was jarred for every downhill step. I was trying to find a smooth rolling gait that could increase my pace, but it was not really possible to find anything that would bring me forward faster than a slow grind. I tried to pull ahead of Dale and his daughter, but was never really out of their sight. And eventually we together pulled into the last aid station at the bottom of the hill, with four and half mile to the finish line. The terrain was now just rolling hills all the way into the finish line and hotel where a shower and bed was waiting. I kept pushing and eventually found a gait, sort of half running and half walking with a rolling motion that caused the least jarring and irritation from my shorts.

The sub 24 hour finish had vanished at the cold top earlier in the night and now I was just trying to make sure that I would get under 26:40. And it was good to feel my body respond positively to a last push. The final time became 26:37 and I weighed in at the same weight as I had started, so I had overcome the five pounds of dehydration through this last out and back during the night.

Finishing this 100 miler felt like a huge victory. I had done what I came for and I had avoided the bad state of delirium, which I had experienced during my first 100 miler. And importantly, I had gotten the taste of the possibility that I can run a sub 24 hour 100 miler. It is all up to my head and preparation, now I just need to adjust the execution.

A good race result does also come from great race support and direction. Race direction and enthusiastic crews at the aid stations were fantastic and everyone did a very good job helping us all. Definitely a race to keep in mind for next year’s race calendar.