Bel Monte Endurance Race 50K Race Report

Prologue

It was during a 9-day backpacking trip on the Appalachian Trail last fall that the ultra bug hit me. After all, I was hiking 15-20 miles a day with 30-35 pounds on my back and enjoying it (mostly) -- why shouldn't I give a long trail race a shot? At least I wouldn't have to carry as much...

The Bel Monte 50K seemed a logical choice. The date looked right, and I'd done the 25K version of it two years ago -- so I had some familiarity with the course. It also looked friendly from a spectator standpoint, with easy access to several aid stations, so Carmel would be able to cheer and crew for me too.

Despite a rough late winter, I'd got in several 20-mile plus long road runs and some solid 10-15 mile runs on local trails. And I'd knocked out a 1:14 at the Charlottesville 10-Miler only a few weeks before. I did wish that I'd gotten in a few longer days on the trails, but my hydration and nutrition had held up well during my training, so I felt cautiously optimistic going in.

ACT 1 - No hurry...

The Bel Monte course is an out-and-back, distinguished a few interesting features. The first and last couple of miles are on the Blue Ridge Parkway, which makes for an easy start and a finish with long sight lines, so you can see if anybody is ahead or behind you. And the outer few miles are on a rolling gravel road -- pretty easy going. The middle is virtually all single track, some of it quite rocky. The course plunges 2000 feet from the crest of the Blue Ridge to the valley below between miles 7 and 14 with a tough series of switchbacks occupying the first 1-1/2 miles and 1100 feet of the descent. Needless to say, that descent turns into a climb on the return, starting at mile 21 and pitching up sharply near mile 27 of the 34.2 mile course.

It was a clear and warm morning, with temps predicted for the upper 70s or lower 80s. The lack of leaves at the higher elevations was a concern to me, so I slathered on sunscreen at the start and wore a hat. With the gun, I tucked in at the back of the field and warmed up slowly. It was a small field -- only 39 starters for the 50K, out of about 120 or so doing the 25K or 50-miler. As we started down the Parkway I moved up gradually. Turning east off the Parkway we entered the pretty White Oak Falls trail and descended to the stream crossing. From there a series of steep switchbacks led up to a crossing of the Parkway, and the first aid station, around mile 5 or so.

To this point I'd stuck to plan, walking one minute out of every 10 no matter what, drinking from my hydration pack on the 10s, and taking in a gel every 40 minutes, with two salt tablets on the hour. My pace was steady and I felt good. After getting a quick shot of sunscreen from Carmel at the aid station, I was back on my way. Leaving AS1 the trail pitched up over a blend of smooth trail and rock gardens before descending down a jeep trail to AS 2, the start of the steep switchback descent. I'd caught a few stragglers along the way, but the field was well spread out by this point.

As I started down, I passed 25K runners working their way back up the climb, most power walking the steeps. Crossing the stream at the bottom of the switchbacks it was into new territory for me. The running was pleasant. Gradually downhill along a swift-flowing stream with several calf/knee deep wades at the stream crossings. The cold water was a pleasant distraction from the growing heat of the day. A stubbed toe and a tumble onto the trail were the only problems I encountered.

Hitting AS 3 I took stock. 13 miles in and the day was going well, though I'd gotten a little behind on my nutrition. Hydration and salt intake seemed good, so I wolfed down some salted potatoes, sucked down some Coke, filled the hydration bladder, grabbed gels from Carmel, and put on more sun screen.

The sunscreen was a good choice on the out-and-back stretch of gravel road. There were a few rises and dips, but nothing like the Fox Mountain loop I'd done in training. As I headed out the road I started counting the returning runners. After 4 miles I hit the next aid station and realized I was in 13th place, and I knew there were a couple of runners only a little ahead of me. On the return trip I could see them ahead and slowly reeled them in, hitting AS3 in 11th at mile 21.

ACT 2 - Exit, pursued by a bear

The run downhill to AS3 had been a pleasant trip. But I knew that the benign trail I'd just come down was going to bite me going back up. I topped off my water, slugged down more Coke and potatoes and moved on.

Right away I adopted a disciplined approach. Run 100 steps, check your HR. Over 155? Walk, checking every 20 steps until its under 145, then run at 100 steps or until its over 155 again. I'd used that strategy on the second trip up Jarman's Gap during a training run and it seemed to work for me.

The day was getting hot by now, so the stream crossing were a godsend, letting me dip my hat and bandanna into the water for some cooling action. I held it together well, walking and running, for the next 6 miles or so, passing 26 miles and into the great unknown. Then the switchbacks began.

All the while coming up the valley I'd been doing my math. If I could hold my pace around 15 minutes per mile going up the ascent I'd been in great shape to go under 7 hours -- a pretty good time on this course, based on past results. but pride goeth before a fall -- or in this case a steep trail just about stopped me in my tracks. Try as I might I couldn't keep my momentum going and soon was reduced to walking 50 steps, putting my hands on my knees and sucking water out of my drinking tube -- at least I had that. I fired down caffeinated gels and salt tablets to pick up my energy and struggled on, reduced to 28-minute mile pace as I climbed.

But even in the worst of times cool stuff happens. As I walked I heard rustling int brush on the trail to my side. I stopped, and out popped a black bear, about 10-15 yards away, oblivious to me. I watched him for a moment, then thought it would be best if he knew I was there. So I gave a couple of loud barks and he rashed away into the underbrush.

I'd gone the last 7 miles by myself, but as I approached the next AS, I saw another runner struggling up the hill. I hoped I didn't look as bad as he did, though I'm sure I did. Entering the aid station I saw him and one other runner taking a break. Nothing like competition to give you energy -- I bolted down two cups of water, grabbed some peanut M and Ms and took off at my best power walking pace.

ACT 3 - Duel in the Sun

I walked best I could and gradually started trying to run again, stopping once with a wicked cramp that convinced me I was going to have to DNF. But after a minute or so it loosened up and I was on my way, still no sign of the runners from the aid station. The trail was rocky, but downhill, and I gradually loosened up and picked up speed.

As I reached the BRP crossing again I figured I was in 9th position. Carmel was on hand to feed me more Coke and give me the remains of our ice to stick under my hat. Only 5 miles to go, with the last 2 or so on the Parkway. In the bag!

As I left the overlook I looked back and recognized the green shirt of one of the runners I'd passed in the aid station coming out of the woods behind me. I picked up the pace as I started down into the woods but soon hit some rough patches that left me reduced to a walk. Soon green shirt came along and passed me. I tried to hang on but soon he'd disappeared into the woods. Oh well...

It's amazing how tough the last few miles of a race can be, but I was encouraged onwards by numerous day hikers who were enjoying the fine weather. Then as I turned a corner, there was green shirt, only 30 yards ahead. I guess he'd had his own bad patch too. Gradually I caught up, but lagged about 5-10 yards behind on the trail. I'll save it for the Parkway...

We hit the Parkway neck and neck and I took a quick moment to get a last sip of Coke from Carmel, then took off in pursuit. As we worked up a long hill, green shirt was reduced to walking, but I was able to run/walk and close the gap, then stretch out a lead. Over the top of the climb he found his next gear and passed me on the way down. And so we yo-yo'd back and forth over the last mile -- I could close the gap, but never close enough to make the pass. Finally I saw the finish, and crossed the line in 7:32, good for 10th overall. I lost my AG to green shirt, whose name is Wes -- nice guy, and he earned the win.

34.2 miles -- what a day!

Race Report: Belmonte Endurance Races 25K - 4/20/2013

I like mountains. I like trails. I like to run. So why hadn't I done a trail race before? 

Good question, I told myself as I stood shivering in the gathering light of a Blue Ridge mountains sunrise. It was 35 degrees and breezy at Royal Oaks Resort, a small collection of cabins just off the Blue Ridge Parkway south of Wintergreen. I'd signed up for the Belmonte 25K last year but had to bail because of pneumonia. The organizers had graciously rolled over the entry to this year, but the race really wasn't on my radar. My running felt great, but I'd been concentrating on shorter distance foot races and cycling. Hard to see how this was going to turn out.

There were actually three races going on that day -- my 25K, plus a 50K and a 50 miler. All were following the same course, but with different turnaround points on the out-and-back course. I tried to blend in with the crowd -- a little different than the usual road race. A few more beards, a lot of Camelbacks, some runners with dogs, and a crapload of tattoos. A couple of burly guys in kilts rounded out the scene. 

After a moment of silence for Boston, we took off. I lopped along in the back, determined not to burn out early -- I'd seen the elevation profile, and I knew what it was to hike up in these mountains. Our first two miles followed the Blue Ridge Parkway (BRP) south and downwards, then we ducked off the trail into woods to the east. The single track was well graded here, with a gentle downward slope, and I settled into the train of runners, moving up past a few slower ones.

Then in the distance I heard a smattering of whoops and hollers, getting louder as we got closer. A stream crossing, made deep and fast by the previous night's rain was backing up traffic. Some scouted up or downstream for a crossing, but most plunged right in with water over their knees and forged ahead. With a shout of "once more into the breech" I followed suit. Now it was my turn to give a yell -- it was COLD!

Now the trail turned west and back up towards the BRP, with sunlight illuminating the sides of Whiteoak Canyon as we climbed. I ran and powerwalked and moved past several more runners, scraping against the underbrush each time. We recrossed the Parkway to the first water stop and I stopped to chat with Carmel who'd driven down from the start. I fired down a gel, refilled my water and  reentered the woods.

The trail wound upwards now, as I ran along Indian file with a group of about 10 other guys, chatting it up as we ascended. Gradually the trees grew shorter and the trail rockier -- a sure sign we were near the top of the ridge line. Our pack came apart as runners began to tire or started to surge and I settled in leading a "B" pace group. At the top we turned right onto a rutted jeep road -- a veritable super highway compared to the trail and began to descend. By now we were starting to see 25K runners coming back. They looked young -- and fast.

After a few minutes we hit the first real aid station. I topped off my bottle, and grabbed some peanut M and Ms (great idea) and some saltines with peanut butter (not so great). As I choked down the saltines, the trail started down. It was full on prevent disaster mode for a while as I slid down some steep scree, and hopped from rock to rock. After a few the trail began a set of well-graded switchbacks and I could hear the sound of a stream at the bottom of the ravine.

We hit bottom, only to encounter the 25K turn around sign. I'd checked the map, so I knew it was coming, but it didn't make me look forward to turning around and going right back up. I set off up the mountain in my best power hiking mode, and started to catch a few of the runners in front of me. After a blazing fast 19 minute mile I was back at the aid station -- this time I skipped the saltines (more Peanut M and Ms, please!)

After reascending the jeep trail I turned back onto the single track. This was one of the toughest sections. I head to pick carefully through the rocks as I went down, and my quads felt like they were being attacked by dwarves armed with ball-peen hammers. Younger, nimbler runners I'd passed on the uphill started overtaking me. I hated them.

Finally the trail smoothed out and I could start to stretch out and run again. As I picked up speed the Virginia Trail Rock, a native of the area. launched itself from its camouflaged burrow and attacked my left foot. With a loud OOOOFFFF I hit the ground and slid. Then my calves cramped up. As I rolled around on the trail I understood the appeal of trail racing. In a big city race spectators and other runners would have rushed to my aid. EMTs might have been called. Pictures and video would have been taken.  But here I was on my own. No one in front, no one behind. Suck it up buttercup.

I finally got up and worked out the cramp. No lasting damage -- a scraped knee and thigh and a couple of scrapes on my forearm and hand. Fortunately the arm warmers I was wearing protected my skin from anything worse. After a few I started to jog along and got back up to speed.

Soon I hit the BRP again, where Carmel was waiting. I showed off my battle scars, got some water and a gel and dug in. Just three more miles of trails, then back on the blacktop. I descended back to the stream crossing, which felt pretty darned good this time and started ascending back to the road.

As  I climbed the trail I saw a sight to warm my heart. Other runners. Walking. I started picking off single runners and pairs until we hit the Parkway again. The blacktop warmed my heart and loosened up my stride. More runners came into view as I ascended -- I'd paced it well and had plenty in the tank as I came across the line.

I found out later I won my AG, though I didn't stick around for awards. A plate of hot macaroni and cheese and a lot of potato chips was plenty of award. Trail running -- I might grow to like this...

Ken