Things I'd Do For a Pint Glass: The MMT 100

On paper the Massanutten Mountain Trail 100 didn't look all that intimidating. The 18,500 feet of elevation gain, while significant, isn't all that monstrous over the 100-mile distance. The race website, however, fails to reiterate just how many large rocks have been tossed across the trails in the George Washington National Forest.

By all accounts, Massanutten is a somewhat easier course than the Eastern States 100—less technical with a several K feet fewer in elevation change, and without the switchback-less, scree-laden, 1,000-foot climbs. Training had been going well. In fact, it was the best training block I've ever had for a 100-miler, as detailed on a previous post. 

The MMT course is essentially a 100-kilometer loop around the ridge surrounding the George Washington National Forest, followed by a marathon-distance loop to the south, then a few miles down a road to bring it all back home. The course makes frequent drops down the ridge to aid stations at road crossings; this is where most of the elevation change comes in. There are a few sections with two to five miles of dirt road at a time, but otherwise it's all singletrack. 2019 marked the 25th straight year of the Virginia Happy Trails Running Club's marquee event.

MMT welcome sign. 

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I arrived to the starting line at Caroline Furnace Lutheran Camp already in a handicapped state.

The afternoon before the race, I attended Hayley's grandmother's funeral, then drove seven hours straight down to northern Virginia to arrive around 9:00 p.m. I missed the expo, pre-race briefing, etc., but was able to get my bib and mug shot that night. The drop-bag drop-off deadline had already passed, but I'd made special arrangements with the Race Director and his drop-bag coordinator to leave my three bags in a bin behind the drop-bag transportation truck. (RD Kevin Sayers was very accommodating when I explained my predicament in an email a week earlier. More on this later.)

Pre-race mug shot. PC: Raj Bhanot

I then made my way to a stuffy bunk bed cabin shared with a dozen other runners. The lights were already out and I fumbled my way onto a top bunk, trying not to wake anyone although I doubt there was much slumbering anyway. Snoring, lack of fresh air,

Wawayanda

Of the four 100-milers I've run the Wawayanda Wonderful Wonhundred was by far the easiest. On paper. In reality, I had to work harder for this belt buckle than for any of the previous three. I wasn't able to find much info on this low-key race aside from the event website, so I'll describe the course and the race in more detail than I normally would for anyone who's interested in running it in the future.

Now in it's third year, the Wawayanda Wonderful Wonhundred is put on by NJ Trail Series annually in mid-October. NJTS is an event production company owned by husband and wife Rick and Jennifer McNaulty. They organize trail and ultra races year round, the best known of which is Three Days at the Fair. The WW100 uses the singletrack and logging roads in Wawayanda State Park in Hewitt, New Jersey, with the race HQ located at a boat launch area on the edge of Wawayanda Lake.

The WW100 course is a looped format in which runners complete three separate loops — marked blue, orange, and purple — totaling 25 miles, then repeat three more times for a total of 100. 50-mile and 50k races are held concurrently on the same loops. This year, parts of the course were altered due to flooding on the trails; as a result each loop was shortened slightly and we had to run more of them. We started off with a truncated 1.8-mile loop run twice, then began the

Strike Oil or Move On: The Oil Creek 100

Prologue

"Strike oil or move on." In those five short words, the race slogan sums up nicely what the Oil Creek 100 is all about. Just like the region's oil barons of the 1860s, you either make it happen now or keep going forward until you do. No excuses. No whining.

The 100 mile route is three laps around Oil Creek State Park on the Gerard Hiking Trail. Each loop is 50k. After the third loop, runners complete the Boughton Acid Works Going Home Loop to make it 100.6 miles. A single loop 50k race and a two loop 100k race take place concurrently, with each starting time separated by an hour. The 100-miler is a Western States qualifier and serves as the RRCA 100 Mile Championship for the state of Pennsylvania. Runners have 32 hours to cover the 100 miles, with intermediary cutoff times at specified checkpoints throughout.

The 5 a.m. start for the 100-mile race felt like anything but a 5 a.m. start. An all around jovial mood and lack of nervous air kept the atmosphere light. I figured I was suffering from either a severe case of hyperconfidence or hypopreparation.¹ Whatever the reason, the starting line felt more like a turkey trot with 170 of my best friends than the beginning of 100 off-road miles over the next 20 to 30 hours.

LED strobe lights lined the street behind Titusville Middle School. Any unsuspecting, low flying helicopter pilot would have spotted a hoard of headlamps bouncing down an illuminated runway just after 5:00 on that Saturday morning. There's no oil here, so let's get moving. And just like that, the first few physical steps toward a second belt buckle were now behind me.

I.

The first mile and a half of each loop runs through a residential neighborhood on paved roads and a bike path, before hitting the rocky, narrow singletrack of the Gerard Hiking Trail. Having learned the course a month prior to race day really helped with my pacing. I ran the asphalt section comfortably and reached the singletrack with only a few dozen runners ahead

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Belt Buckle

It sits alone, one of its kind, longing for the companionship of others of its ilk. Yes, since taking up residence on a desk in a spare room last September, the Virgil Crest 100 Mile Belt Buckle has spent many a night alone, no other buckle in the vicinity. This buckle has many cousins in the form of finishers medals, pins, plates, and pint glasses. But the twelve ounces of solid pewter that is the embodiment of a hundred mile journey remains the first and only of its species in this abode.

Many months ago, I got to thinking of what I could do to provide a more nurturing environment for this treasured inanimate object, and so turned to Maslow's third level of human needs. With the beloved Virgil Crest recently departed from this world (see obituary below), it is impossible to bring home a brother or sister to the buckle, so a friend of similar nature will have to suffice. Something that represents hard labor, struggle, and sacrafice, at a level comparable with the Virgil buckle. Something that must be earned and is far from guaranteed. Something that, when looked at and held, will provide a catalyst for a great flood of memories—some good, some bad, and some ugly—that will make for spectacular campfire storytelling

Smile... Tomorrow Will Be Worse: The Virgil Crest 100

[This is one of two race recaps I wrote about the 2015 Virgil Crest Ultras. Click here for the other, which is more an experiment in creative writing than a conventional race report. Click here to read the race itinerary document I created for my crew. ]

One late September evening, while volunteering to provide food and assistance to a bunch of runners at the Hitching Post, is when I first got the itch. I decided then and there that I'd like to run this thing as a 100 mile debutante. It felt so epic just to be there, filling water bottles for 100 mile runners coming into mile 44 or 56 late in the evening. Knowing what these warriors had already endured, and what trials lie ahead throughout the night, brought a certain level of respect for all those attempting to go the distance. Having marked half the course the day before, I knew it wouldn't be easy. I'd have loved to spend the night at the aid station if I didn't have to leave at 10:00 PM to go to work at the hospital.

I spent nine months training for the 100, starting in late January, and come September 19 I was ready to go. My successful run at the Green Lakes 100K three weeks prior gave me some much needed confidence going into Virgil Crest, while the adverse weather conditions and uphill battles at the Whiteface SkyMarathon in late June helped me prepare mentally. After scrambling last minute to finalize my pacer situation, I had created a step by step game plan to help me get through this monumental task. The night before the race, I drove out to Virgil for packet pickup and to check out a