The Grindstone 100 was by far one of the toughest races I have attempted to date. My heart has always had a special pull towards the Virginia mountains, having completed my first 100 miler on horseback just a short distance north of this course 7 years prior– and these trails certainly did not disappoint when it came to all that makes me tick.
My weekend began on Thursday, making the journey from New Jersey to Virginia. I was meeting my friend and pacer for the weekend, Jen Raby, at a hotel in Staunton in the late afternoon. The plan was to stay up late Thursday night, and sleep in as late as possible Friday morning, as the race start was at 6pm on Friday. We found our room and settled in, quickly spotting many cars with tell-tale ultrarunning stickers, making us smile as the endurance runners descended upon the city. One of the guys checking in as we were said they had driven all the way from Wisconsin! Exchanged a few texts with my coach, Andy Jones-Wilkins, and solidified a time for our pre-race meeting at his house that evening.
Spent some time relaxing and then headed over to Andy’s house, where we were joyfully greeted by his awesome dog, Josie, at the door. There, we joined Andy and his wife, Shelly, at the dining room table for a couple hours of pouring over nitty-gritty details and race plans. Nutrition, hydration, drop-bag contents, crewing spots, pacing plans, Andy didn’t leave one detail uncovered. Shelly was also a wealth of knowledge, dropping tips and words of wisdom throughout the evening. It was getting late and we hadn’t eaten dinner yet – so, rather than go out to eat and worry about dairy content of the foods I was eating, Andy and Jen hit the kitchen and whipped up an incredible spaghetti dinner for us to share, complete with sausage and peppers! I’ve got to say I have never felt more loved than I did this night – with Andy, Jen & Shelly all completely focused on setting me up for success the next day. These were three incredible souls with hearts of gold – I wouldn’t trade this team for the world.
After dinner, Jen and I headed back to the hotel, and I was feeling extremely stir crazy. Jen suggested I go for a walk and get my wits about me before heading to bed, and even offered to join me on the stroll. And so we walked, many laps around the perimeter of the parking lot, only stopping after two guys up on the balcony started making comments to us about spending our night walking in circles.
We finally retired to our room and made some changes to my drop bags that we had discussed earlier during our meeting. Jen poured over my gear, becoming familiar with the contents of my drop bags and functionality of my hydration pack. The next hours were spent relaxing and chatting – and finally I showered and headed to sleep sometime between midnight and 1am.
Woke up moments before my alarm went off at 10am – to Jen returning from the lobby where she was hanging out to let me sleep in. The ball started rolling at this point and we quickly packed up our things into our cars. I already started getting yelled at by Jen at this point (love you) for not eating breakfast and beginning to hydrate soon enough. Stuck with my normal race day breakfast of a bagel and iced tea, which I ate on the way over to Camp Shenandoah.
Once we arrived at camp, we were able to follow the crowd toward the dining hall for check-in, where I picked up my race bib, got some awesome race SWAG, got weighed in, and my pre-race photo taken. From here, went back to our cars and carried things to the cabin we would be calling our home base for the next few days.
Jen then sent me off to lunch in the dining hall while she completed a few more tasks. In the dining hall, I met up with an old, dear friend, Janice Heltibridle, and joined her for a sandwich and some very tasty fresh fruit. Jen met back up with us here and dropped a full large bottle of water in front of me with a glance that didn’t require words to understand the instructions.
After lunch, Jen and I went for another walk – this time out the start and along the lake. This walk, noticeably quieter – as I began focusing inward and mentally preparing for what was about to come.
Returning to camp, we joined all the other runners again in the dining hall for the pre-race meeting. Here, I again had both Andy and Jen at my side, this time joined by another of Andy’s athletes, Mundy, where we were finally able to meet in person after spending weeks communicating and sharing our experiences online. Race director Clark Zealand poured over the details during this meeting – gave away lots of sponsor prizes, and finally sent us on our way to prepare for the start. Andy gave me a big hug and wished me well, with a promise to see me at the first crew spot, Dowells Draft.
I took the time now to turn inward, spent an hour quietly meditating on my bed in the cabin, and receiving some words of encouragement from my friend Kaci, who always seems to know exactly what to say before big efforts. At 5pm, I was up and moving, dressing, filling my pack, and preparing for the start. Jen went over a mental checklist with me, catching a few things I had forgotten, and walked me to the start. Hundreds of runners were here, quietly milling around with their crews and families, and we soon were corralled into the starting area for a countdown to 6pm.
Before we knew it, we were running across the lawn and out the driveway toward the trail. We were immediately bottlenecked to a stop as the trail dropped down and around a narrow corner on the far end of the pond. Slowly we made our way down into the trail and picked up a comfortable pace through the woods. The trail immediately looped back to camp where we again ran past many crews and spectators who were cheering loudly – many runners joked, “That was fun, not nearly as hard as everyone made it out to be!” .. and then we were dumped out onto the real trails to begin our long journey toward our turnout point 51.5 miles away at Briery Branch Gap.
We made our way along a creek bed and everyone was very quiet during this time – it was raining softly, and everyone was concentrating very hard on foot placement, as this was some rather technical trail. Once out on the fire roads, conversation started picking up among runners. Before we knew it, we had made it to the train tracks and out to our first aid station at Falls Hollow. From here, darkness sets in and our headlamps are all switched on as we begin climbing our way up towards Elliot’s Knob – crossing a stream several times. Immediately upon sunset, the fog starts to roll in thickly – making breathing difficult, as well as the ability to see the trail. I was so thankful that I knew the trail, having pre-ran this section twice in the last month. I knew which way the trail was “supposed” to go, and sent my feet in the right direction, even if I couldn’t clearly see the trail ahead.
Finally, I emerged on the gravel road to begin the steep climb up Elliot’s – I switch to a strong power hike and started making my way up the grueling climb. Looking around at this point was quite magical, seeing so many headlamps dancing slowly up the mountain in the dense fog. It was now that I heard my coach’s voice coming toward me, and then he appeared several feet in front of me, looking like he was having the time of his life flying downhill. “Andy!!!” I shouted. “Who’s that??” he yells back, as visibility was nearly impossible. “MICHELLE!!” I yelled back. “How’s it going!?!” he responded.. “I can’t breathe and I can’t see!!!” my response. I hear him laugh and yell back “It doesn’t get any steeper than this!” And upwards I continued, working hard to breathe deeply and keep my feet moving as quickly as possible to the summit. Finally, I made my way to the first orienteering punch at the fire tower, punch my bib, and turn to make the return trip toward Dry Branch Gap.
Made the hard left turn back onto single track trail and spent time on some rolling trail before hitting a difficult, rocky section. This section was full of large, wet, mossy rocks, and I felt like I was in a game of Kerplunk as I would step onto a rock, and immediately slide down and off. Fell four times in this section, just having no traction from my shoes to the wet rocks. Finally hit a nice section of rolling single track and got into a nice rhythm of running. Picked up several runners behind me at this point and we continued forward as a pack. Was chatting away with a guy behind me and he said to me, “Don’t look now, but you’ve got a really long line of followers behind you!” We eventually hit a descending trail with switchbacks and I was able to glance back to see behind me – there were at least 30 head lamps bobbing along behind me in the darkness. The guy behind me told me I should really start singing “I’m your captain” and starts belting out a tune that I’m not familiar with. Totally made me laugh, though. This section totally made me daydream back to running in Boulder with a pack of runners that also enjoyed my pacing and always aligned themselves behind me. This was a great mental distraction for a few miles as we finally descended into the Dry Branch Gap aid station. Because I was the first to hit the aid station, I was able to grab a few orange slices and continue quickly forward and back up onto the trail, as I had enough water left in my pack to continue without refilling. I was now journeying alone, quickly climbing a steep trail, and began to pass struggling runners in this section (miles 15-22). Many runners were overheating with the thick, heavy air, and I began witnessing many runners vomiting and stopping to rest on the side of the trail. The climb never seemed to end, but eventually leveled off and then proceeded to wind through the woods and across another creek, which was impossible to cross without running through shin-deep water.
We then crossed into a section with some downed trees that I remembered had go-around from pre-running, but in the darkness and thick fog with near-zero visibility, we couldn’t find the go-arounds and ended up climbing through the downed trunks and branches along the established trail. One guy commented here “I don’t remember signing up for the Barkley!”, and at this point, I honestly had to agree with him. Eventually we made our way out of this section and climbed up onto the fire road that would be our first crewed aid station – Dowells Draft (mile 22.11). I was quickly grabbed by Jen and led towards the crew spot they had set up. I detoured to the aid station table and grabbed a couple orange slices and potato wedges before retiring to the chair they had set up to do a quick shoe change. I felt like a Nascar team descended upon me, as someone I didn’t even know started taking off my shoes and Jen took my pack to refill it, and Andy sat down next to me, put a coke in my hand and told me to drink it, and fed me several squares of PB&J as he talked me through the next section of trail. “Many climbs….” I heard.. “Gentle grades” … “Run the ones that feel too easy”.. Before I knew it, my shoes were changed (Thanks, man I do not know, but was clearly a friend of Andy’s), a fresh, restocked pack was hoisted onto my back, and Jen escorted me to a quick pee break in the woods. I was then sent on my way up the trail towards Lookout Mountain.
This section was fun for me. I was feeling strong and the climbs were not too steep. I was able to run a lot of the hills, thanks to my countless hill repeats done in training for the past six weeks. I was careful not to put forth more than a 6/7 effort, and for a while, the miles rolled by with ease. Passed more runners through this section that were heavily riding the struggle train. Vomiting, diarrhea, overheating – and then, my own struggle began. One moment, I was moving strongly forward, and I suddenly felt as if I were kicked squarely in the left lower shin. The electric pain was enough to stop me in my tracks. I stopped momentarily to rub my leg and do a quick assessment – I’m pretty sure this is a cramp, I thought to myself. I had never cramped before on trail. I massaged the spot for a moment and then continued forward at the walk, hoping to walk it off. Every time I would flex my ankle deeply into the steep grade, the cramp would come back with a vengeance. I slowed my pace a bit and walked the steeper grades, and as soon as I hit the next aid station at Lookout Mountain, grabbed a large handful of salted pretzels and forced myself to eat them. Within 15 minutes, the pain had gone and I was able to move freely again with no cramps.
I continued forward, and then made my way into the most technical trail, leading to the North River Gap aid station. Rocky footing, paired with low visibility on trail made this section extremely mentally and physically draining for me. I was forced to slow down and was tripping and catching my toes on rocks throughout. I started praying out loud during this section for the road to appear, as I knew that would signal the end of the most technical section. Eventually, I did hit the road in a moment of sheer joy and made the hard right to run down into the North River Gap aid station (mile 37.13), into the waiting arms of my crew. “How are you?” Andy asks. “I’m dying!” was the only response I could muster. Then, in true Andy fashion, he announces to the entire aid station “WE HAVE A DEAD ONE, Ladies and Gentlemen!” which makes me laugh hysterically, and he turned to me and said, join the club, basically everyone’s dead at this aid station. He then makes me feel better by saying that I look less dead on the scale of dead people coming through here. (LOL). Immediately, Jen again sprung into action and took my pack from me to replenish, and I’m so thankful as Andy isn’t pushing any food on me here (nor do I want any). I describe my bout with the shin cramp to Andy, and he is concerned – packing a small baggy of S-caps for me, encouraging me to take one now to prevent further cramping. He then took time to encourage me, and remind me that I’ve got the 7 mile climb coming up – something I was cautiously looking forward to. Jen put me back together and before leaving, I begged her to get some sleep – as this would be the last time I’d see her before picking her up here as a pacer on the return trip. She promised to rest, and off they sent me back out onto trail toward the long, relentless climb.
This section was both physically and mentally tolling. It’s still pitch black out, with dense fog and trails that never stopped heading upward. The runners were more spread out now, and it was rare to be traveling the same pace with anyone for more than a brief moment. I did eventually find myself traveling alongside another runner for a few miles, and we both verbalized holding onto great hope that the sun would be rising soon. Just as I was summiting Little Bald Knob (mile 45), the sun finally peaked over the horizon, bringing great relief to all of us who were mentally so finished with slower travel in the dense fog of night.
I spent only a brief moment at this aid station, but was struck at the carnage throughout the area. Many runners were sleeping here, both physically and emotionally spent from the previous night. It was so tempting to join them, but I knew that I needed to press forward to make the most of every moment of daylight that was being given to us. I knew there were only 6.6 miles to the turnaround, and was happy to finally have a break and be running on gravel road. I made another new friend on this section and we ran together, chatting as the miles ticked by. Together, we summited Reddish Knob, again punching our bibs with the orienteering punch and pausing here to take a photo of the sunrise, my only photo of the whole race, before continuing on a short way to the turnaround point.
The volunteers at Briery Branch Gap (mile 51.56) were simply phenomenal. They had chairs set up for us, as many runners were changing their socks here – and had runners grabbing our drop bags for us, that they were able to hand off to us nearly the moment of our arrival. I sat down and did a quick sock change, then restocked my vest and quickly refilled my water. Grabbed some potato chips from the table, considered a PB&J square, but decided against it, and headed back up the road toward Little Bald Knob.
This section was somewhat enjoyable, it was so nice to still have some road miles and have sunlight and before popping back onto trail. Many runners picked up pacers for this section, and having some fresh legs and smiles on trail was somewhat refreshing (but somewhat annoying, too). I was beginning to get hot, now, as the air was still very heavy with no breeze- with high humidity. Made my way back into Little Bald Knob (mile 57.5) and was nearly lured into the chairs to rest by the well-meaning volunteers. I grabbed a few potatoes and continued on my way. This was nearly an 8 mile section back to North River Gap, where I knew Andy and Jen would be waiting.
I had a rough time on this section. My cramp came back in my left shin, intermittently, and I was really overheating. I found myself panting for much of this section, and slowing down to allow my body to work to cool itself. I was getting really down in the dumps emotionally at this point, though it was a net downhill section, I felt like I was really exerting a lot of energy to get through it. My anguish turned to hope as I saw Andy climbing uphill toward me with about 3.5 miles to North River Gap. He had a big smile on his face and was overjoyed to have found me, looking at his watch and telling me that I was exactly on pace for where he expected me based off one time he had seen for me many aid stations ago. “How’s it going?” he asked me. “I’m pretty much dead” is again my response. I went on to tell him that I was massively overheating and panting for several hours now. “You’re moving pretty well for a dead person”, he responded. We then continued moving forward together, and I had just picked up the most entertaining pacer of all of Grindstone. The next three miles were the highlight of my race. Despite my feeling horrible, Andy managed to get me laughing hysterically as he verbally planned my funeral, down to every detail – wood type on the casket, donations in lieu of flowers, and the eulogy – to be delivered by none other than Corrine Malcolm, and contain only pure humor. Together, Andy and I passed many runners, and by the time we descended upon North River Gap (mile 65.3), I was so mentally uplifted, though still extremely overheated.
I was guided to a chair by Jen, who quickly worked to cool me. She filled my CTS buff with ice and put it around my neck, handing me a second Leki buff filled with ice to rub on my arms and legs to begin lowering my temperature. I spent a few minutes here with Andy and Jen, rehydrating, cooling, and eating. In a moment of realization, I looked up at Jen and exclaimed, “I get to keep you now!” Finally, I had made it to the last 35 miles of trail. Again, she puts my vest back onto me and we now head together up the road back towards the rocky section that would again lead to Lookout Mountain. The first few miles are extremely difficult for me. I’m still overheated, and slowly cooling with ice on my neck. Jen makes me slow my pace and take to power hiking until I’m feeling better – and eventually this pays off, as I begin to feel much better and am able to pick up a much stronger pace. We make it into the Lookout Mountain aid station (mile 71.7) and Jen quickly refills the ice in my buff, we grab a few things to eat and we’re continuing to move strongly for the 8.6 miles back towards Dowells Draft. I very much enjoyed running this section with Jen. I would spot a runner ahead, turn back and smile at her, and take off toward that runner to pass them and continue forward. We reached Dowells Draft (mile 80.3) feeling happy and strong.
It was out of Dowells Draft when the sun set for the second night that my proverbial wheels fell off. I can’t put an exact finger on the moment that it happened – but things started falling apart for me after this point. Deep fatigue began setting in, the fog again rolled in, and my body began to hurt. I had been running for over 24 hours at this point, awake for over 33 hours. When the sun set, I began heavily hallucinating, often stopping in my tracks in sheer terror, thinking there was a bear in my path. Jen was so good to me – providing reality check after reality check. I began seeing so many animal photos on the undersides of shimmering leaves on the ground – I often was walking bent over to admire them, which Jen finally made me stop doing, as it was really slowing us down. My feet were beginning to really hurt, and I could feel several blisters on the bottoms of my feet stinging. I began alternating Advil & Tylenol to tolerate the pain – of which Jen kept track of the timing (bless her heart).
We eventually made it to the Dry Branch Gap aid station (mile 87.8) where Andy was again waiting for us. “Andy!”, I exclaimed. “My brain is gone!” “That’s why you have a pacer now”, he says. “Do you have your car?!” I inquired. “Yes…” He responded. “Please will you drive me to my bed?!” I begged. He thought quickly and responded, “Last I checked, nobody ever came here for a Grindstone 87 mile buckle”. Bummer, I thought. But then I had another bright idea. I turned to a nice looking man sitting next to me at the aid station. “Hello!”, I greeted him. “What’s your name?” I asked, followed quickly by, “Do you have a car?”, and “Will you please drive me to my bed!?”. Well, this man apparently had experience crewing these things too, and not only denied me a ride back to camp, but also helped me to conjure up my favorite dessert in my mind that I would be treating myself to if and only if I finished this race. (Whoever you were, thank you very much for denying me, and for your kind words in that dark night). At this point Andy comes and puts a half filled cup of ginger ale in my hand. I was so happy, as I had been dreaming out loud to Jen about ginger ale while coming into this aid station. I quickly drank it all, and asked Andy if I could have more. Instead, he places a cup of coke in my hand that Jen had given him for me. “But I don’t want coke.. why can’t I have more ginger ale?” I asked Andy. He didn’t know why I couldn’t have it and asked Jen, who I heard quickly respond, “SHE NEEDS CAFFEINE”, and they made me drink the coke. (LOL). Jen then came to me and changed my shirt to a long sleeve, and I asked one more time if I could please have my bed now. Andy pointed up the mountain and said my bed was that way.
These next miles are extremely slow and painful. I was completely exhausted and my feet were really hurting. It kept feeling like rocks were in my shoes, but the feeling wouldn’t go away after stopping to take off and shake out my shoes. We were climbing up along this ridge that was slightly banked, and my balance was feeling very off in my state of sleep deprivation. I began feeling desperate and was calling out to Jen that I was going to fall off the cliff. Jen slowed down and at one point took my hand to steady and assure me that she was right there with me. We continued moving slowly forward, and I began taking opportunities to sit on large, comfortable, moss-covered rocks and begging for a nap. Jen made me continue forward, and eventually we did make our way out to the steep descent of Elliot’s Knob fire road. The pain in my feet was so bad at this point that I was completely unable to run. I know now, in retrospect, that this intense pain was from my feet swelling, likely from sodium overdose of taking several s-caps as well as the Skratch, salt-dipped potatoes, spring gels as well as bolt chews all containing sodium. I was in so much pain descending Elliot’s Knob that I sat down in the middle of the trail (road), completely defeated. I then heard Andy’s voice coming from above, as he was pacing Mundy for 5 miles to Falls Hollow – they looked so strong and happy running down the hill. “I can’t run anymore”, I yelled to Andy. Not sure if he heard me or not, but they continued like they were on fire, down the trail and back into the woods. Jen made me get back up and continue forward. She went on ahead of me and told me to do my best to keep up with her. She began running down the single track trail and it was in that moment that I began to cry. I couldn’t run behind her, and I was pretty sure she had lost her patience with me. I gathered all the courage I could and moved forward down that trail as quickly as I could without actually running. We navigated our way across the stream crossings and finally emerged back at Falls Hollow aid station (mile 96.6).
Andy was waiting here for us, as Mundy had continued on with a different pacer for the last 5 miles. I don’t remember much of what happened here, except that they fed me chicken broth, Jen took off my shoes and taped my feet, and that Andy had taken my vest from me and swapped me out with a handheld for the last 5. I left Falls Hollow in a great deal of pain, still completely exhausted. We were now following white blazes, and quickly came upon another runner who was standing in the clearing, unsure of where to go. The three of us moved forward together, and I was so relieved when Jen had asked him if he wanted to run on ahead of us, and he responded that he was unable to run anymore. We carefully navigated our way along the white-blazed trail, eventually making our way back to the pink ribbon trail and what I knew to be the last two miles of trail. Jen was getting very frustrated with me at this point, and told me that basically if I let any more people pass me that she was going to be really mad. “All these other people are digging deeper than you are”, she told me. And perhaps she was right. And so with less than a mile to go, we began running together. Around the lake, down the road, and back into camp we ran.. seeing the finish line was such a relief. I don’t know where Jen disappeared to, but somehow I was alone running across the finish. I was greeted by Clark, who congratulated me and gave me my buckle and finishers pullover. I was then rejoined by Jen who I think may have hugged me and then led me to the steps of the dining hall where I sat down next to Andy, who had fallen asleep in a chair while waiting for me to finish (Sorry, Andy).
Jen then disappeared, only to reappear a few minutes later with a very kind woman from the dining hall who was asking me what she could make for me to eat before going to sleep. I probably had the best sandwich of my life in that moment, and finally retired to the cabins with Jen for a short nap before the morning awards ceremony would be starting (2 hours later). I ended up sleeping one extra hour and missing awards, but made my way to the dining hall as everyone was leaving. Got to briefly visit with Andy (I think I saw Mundy too?) and then Jen drove my car closer so that we could pack it up and drive out to North River Gap to pick up her car. Leaving Jen here was very hard for me. It’s amazing how attached to someone you can get in just a few days time in the setting of an ultramarathon. Thank you, Jen, for keeping me safe and taking care of me out there. And for being a damn good human being. Same goes to Andy – thank you for being the most perfect coach for me. Thank you also for sharing your beautiful family with me. I’ve learned many lessons over this 100 mile journey, and I look forward to taking that knowledge and applying it to future races.
Spirit Runner 