5X Grindstone - More Than a Race

"A million suns won't fill you up if you can't see the wine flowing over your cup." -- Brand New

Look at that sexy elevation profile!

Some races are just that, a race, an event, something you sign up for and then move on from when it's over. Other times they're more, they're something special, something you connect with. For me, the Grindstone 100 is a very special race. The beautiful setting in the mountains of Virginia. Its 23,000' of substantial and varied climbs and descents. Its sections of smooth and runnable trail, and its other sections of rocky hellscape. The unique 6pm start on the first Friday of October that forces some runners to spend 2/3rds of their race running in the dark. There's no other way to put it, Grindstone is an incredible, classic 100 miler.

For me, personally, Grindstone is also something much, much more. It's family, it's coming home after an extended absence, it's a weekend I look forward to all year long. Grindstone is the race that made me fall in love with ultra running. It was my very first 100 miler, and for the fifth year in a row I'd be towing the line. This time was different, though. 5-timing at Grindstone awards you a big honkin' buckle, something I was very much looking forward to finally earning; in a way, it would signify I'd become a veteran, an elder of a race that had come to define much of who I am as a runner. I intend to keep running Grindstone in the future, but I knew coming into it this year that it'd be my last time starting for a while -- there were other fall 100s to experience, and I wanted to start spending time volunteering at Grindstone and helping other runners achieve their goals. Moreover, after moving from DC to St. Louis a few months prior, the mountains of Virginia were no longer in my backyard, and I was very much looking forward to seeing them again. In a way, too, I was coming to Grindstone this year not just to run it, but to say good-bye to trails that I'd come to know and love, trails I was unlikely to run again for some time.

Grindstone weekend was everything that I hoped it could be, and more.  After Summer had been stubbornly over-wearing its welcome, Fall finally rolled in mere hours before the race start, and runners were blessed with undeniably perfect race conditions. The daytime was sunny and warm, but not too warm. Humidity was low. The mountain peaks and ridgelines embraced runners with crisp, light breezes and the rustling of leaves. The nighttime was cool and clear and pleasant. This was not a year of soupy humidity or never-ending downpours, it was a year for PRs and a high finisher rate.

I'm Number One!

As one of the more experienced and accomplished returning runners, Clark Zealand -- the RD -- honored me with my first-ever Number One seed. I viewed it mostly as a joke, but I was nonetheless moved and appreciative of the distinction. There was good, healthy competition at the front of the field, particularly for the men. Positioning for the Top 5 runners was still being decided coming into the final aid stations. And due to some nearly unfortunate luck on the part of this year's winner, I was mere minutes away from stealing the victory. Despite taking a wrong turn on an unmarked section of trail after the final aid station, Paul Jacobs corrected his mistake in the nick of time and secured the overall victory.

There's a 19 on that clock! Photo Credit: No Clue.

Apart from running, I soaked up my Grindstone weekend chatting with old running friends and enjoying their company before and after the race. I was grateful to see many friendly faces volunteering at the aid stations. I shared tales of the trail. I cheered on other runners. I soaked in the atmosphere of one of my favorite weekends of the year. And then, after I received my 5X buckle, I said my good-byes, and began my 700 mile trek home from Camp Shenandoah. On the way, I reflected on the weekend, finding myself nearly in tears, but also earnestly looking forward to spending a long weekend next year manning aid stations and helping other runners achieve their lofty dreams.

The infamous Wicked Good Grindstone cookie. The real reason we sign up for this race.

Here is a more detailed accounting of my race for anyone interested:

My race was, all around, a fantastic experience. After coming so close to breaking 20 hours in 2017, I was laser-focused on achieving that goal this time around. Moreover, I wanted to make amends for my disappointing 6th place slog-fest last year and hopefully break into the Top 3. While my training leading into Grindstone was nothing to write home about, I felt that after 5 years of running I finally had a reliable base to hold me up in longer races.

For the first 100K, I diligently adhered to splits that would secure a 20 hour finish, and my effort always felt calm and controlled. I unexpectedly moved into first place around Mile 17, only realizing it after repeatedly being gifted with spiderwebs to the face. But it didn't last long because I got swallowed up by a hole soon thereafter -- sinking waist-deep into a leaf-filled depression on the edge of the trail formed by a recently upended tree. I was going downhill and travelling fast, so the experience was rather jarring. I laid there, momentarily dazed, and a gaggle of runners flew by. Next thing I knew, I'd ceded 7 or 8 places. After regaining my composure, I kept at it, maintaining my own effort, and not worrying about the seemingly unsustainable pace of those front runners.

Around Mile 30, along the rocky, technical descent into North River Gap, my mind flowed into a state of utter upheaval.  Usually, it takes more than 80 miles before I'm overcome with emotions, sobbing while fast-hiking up an absurdly steep mountain trail. This time was different. I had begun to reflect on how much Grindstone meant to me, on how great it was to see so many of my East Coast running friends, on how this was my final time racing Grindstone for a while and that it felt like I was somehow, along every single mile of the course, saying good-bye to a close friend. It became too much to bear. The emotions were too high. It was nearly impossible to properly focus on my running. Despite being perfectly positioned for a great race, I gave up all competitive aspirations. I'd be happy to just phone it in the next 70 miles, taking it easy, enjoying saying my good-byes to every stretch of trail along the way.

Accurate representation of me running down Lookout Mountain.

I thought about how Horton would've called me a sissy and that I'd need to suck it up and run, but I didn't care. Trying to cast aside those powerful emotions would be to discredit them. I wanted my 5th Grindstone to be a "meaningful experience", but how could I ever achieve that if I were to stubbornly suppress all of those feelings that were welling up inside me? How could I expect to look back fondly on this day if I spent the bulk of it fighting off emotions that powerful? So there I was, stumbling down the trail, in the dark, ugly crying like Claire Danes. It took everything I had to resist the urge to just sit down and let it all out. After nearly an hour of this headspace, I rolled into North River Gap, and at one point I just stood there, blankly staring off at the drop bags, choking back tears. I found Clark, muttered something about being a little emotionally overwhelmed, then reached for a handshake as I fought off the urge to give him a hug and bawl onto his shoulder.

For the first miles of the nearly 2 hour climb out of North River Gap, I was still an emotional wreck. But then, in an instant, something changed. Just after the top of Grindstone Mountain, I stopped and closed my eyes, focusing on the feeling of the crisp autumn breeze against my face and the mesmerizing sound of shaking leaves in the surrounding trees. I experienced a freeing fullness of being. I was a part of the trail, and the trail a part of me. I was grounded, focused. I didn't need to cast aside my emotions, I could embrace them and still run with purpose. And, perhaps, too, I now fully understood Spinoza. But no time to add philosophical musings to the fray, I had to get back to running!

I calmly rolled into the Turnaround, feeling fresh and collected. I made note of how far ahead the other runners were, but stayed the course and felt no urgency to attack. I was on 20-flat pace and there was no way more than a couple of those runners would be able to keep it up. Instead of frantically bombing the 3000' descent back into North River Gap at Mile 65 like I did two years ago, I took my time and took care of my legs. And just before the aid station, after more than 30 miles of solitude, I finally overtook a runner. I made quick work of the aid station just before the break of dawn and energetically climbed the technical trail back up Lookout Mountain. In years past, this section of the course had always, without fail, crushed my spirits. But my legs felt great this time around and I just floated along. Lyrics from Brand New and Janelle Monae danced in my head and put a pep in my step. I went back and forth with 5th place for a bit, before he flew down the next descent to Dowell's Draft at Mile 80, clearly at an unsustainable pace. I didn't panic because I knew those legs would be trashed by the time he got to the final miles. I rolled along, doing my own thing. And ... I felt amazing! Suddenly, Alicia Keys was blaring inside my head -- This Girl Is On Fiyaaaahhh!

I overtook another runner. Then I calmly cruised up and down Crawford Mountain and stumbled upon two more runners at the Dry Branch Gap aid station at Mile 88. Less than a mile into the final four mile climb, I made my move and blew past them. Despite the steep, rocky sections up Elliott's Knob, and the fact that I was 90 miles into the race, I never stopped to hike. I was flying. I went from dancing right on 20-flat pace to suddenly being 10 minutes ahead of pace. As I turned off the top of Elliott's, I could see 2nd place -- the presumptive dead legs guy -- no more than one minute ahead of me. I descended with purpose, but remain controlled. I blew through the final aid station with 5 miles to go and knew without any shadow of a doubt that I was finally going to break 20 hours at Grindstone. Now, I wanted to see how much lower I could go.

I kept on charging, soon working my way into 2nd place. I didn't let up, all the way to the final mile of the course. I normally run this section as hard and fast as I can, but the way I was running was putting my old efforts to shame. Then, as I turned onto the dam, mere minutes from the finish, I heard something odd: cheering. I didn't know what to make of it since I was in 2nd place and only two aid stations prior I was told the leader was 30-40 minutes up and looking good. I rolled into the finishing chute at 19:47 elapsed. The emotions of the day came bubbling up, but somehow I held off the tears, shook Clark's hand, took my buckle, and had a well-deserved seat just off the finish line.

Paul Jacobs was there, having finished literally 3 minutes ahead of me. I was 3 friggin minutes away from a victory at my favorite 100 Miler! Oh well! It didn't matter. I was over the moon. I ran a perfect race, negative-split the course like a beast, had an absolute blast, PR'd, demolished my sub-20 goal, and secured 2nd place by passing three runners in the final 10 miles. I could not have asked for a better race. It was the perfect end to my 5 consecutive years at Grindstone. I will cherish the memories of this weekend for the rest of my life.

My cup runneth over…

It's okay, you can be jealous of my amazing buckle.

Top Finisher handshake!

Muchos Gracias:

An especially big THANK YOU to my wife and in-laws for letting me disappear for 4 days straight and for looking after my kiddos. I really missed having my wife and daughter crew me this year, but was so thankful to now live nearby Mimi and Poppy, who willingly shouldered some of the parenting responsibilities in my absence.

Thank you to all of the volunteers at Grindstone! This race wouldn't be possible without you. I am so excited to start volunteering alongside y'all next year.

And thank you to Clark, for always putting on a great race, hosting an incredible weekend, and giving hundreds of us runners memories that will last a lifetime.

Post Script:

As of last year, the Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries disallowed trail markers on a 3 mile stretch of the course. Despite having run the course 4 previous times, I missed a critical turn off of a gravel road at Mile 4. It was badly overgrown and did not look like the picture I had in my head of the turn ... and Horton wasn't there like usual to help everyone out. So, really, it's like 50% VA DGIF's fault and 50% Horton's fault, with no remaining fault allocated to myself or my fellow runners! After a few minutes I convinced myself we'd missed the turn and I rounded up the front pack to retrace our steps. Along with another 2 or 3 groups of runners we picked up on the way back, I'd say 50+ people missed that turn. Ouch! All told, it cost the front of the pack 12 minutes, but had zero impact on the top finishers since all of us made the mistake together.

I negative-split the course in 10:02/9:45.

I was the only runner to go under 10 hours on the back half of the course.

I was the only runner to run the "Final 50K" from NRG under 7 hours (6:46).

This is totally not a thing, but I seem to now hold the record for fastest 5x finishes: 107:40:35 (21:32:07 average). The previous best looks to have been Keith Knipling with 111:11:41 (22:14:20 average). Who's gonna step up and better that mark?!

Me and fellow 5X-ers, Nelson Hernandez and Brian Hulbert.

After a couple years suffering through palate fatigue with my Huma gels, I had zero problems with Science In Sport gels. I probably had 14 of those, along with 2 Huma gels early on, and a few Clif Blocks. The rest of my nutrition came from a steady supply of Tailwind, aid station potatoes, and strategically placed Starbucks Frappuccinos in my drop bags.

As always, I did my best Jeff Browning impersonation, dressing in Patagonia gear and sporting Altra Lone Peaks. And I rocked a sweet pair of knee-high Injinji stars and stripes socks, cuz 'Mericuh!

Also, I drove a total of 23 hours to and from the race ... the sub-20 hour race. Ugh.

And finally, here's a homemade Flyby chart showing how, according to Horton, I "should have run faster!"

Race FlyBy.

Affirmation

2017 Grindstone 100

The Abridged Version (full accounting below):

• Shooting for sub-20
• Afraid amazing competition would mean I'd miss out on Top 5 in back-to-back years
• Wife crewing with my 3 year old daughter -- huge props!
• Start to Dowell's Draft (0 - 22)
• I hung back with Matt Thompson -- despite being much more talented, he was respecting the distance for his first Hundo and happily chilled with me. Also ran with Christopher Miller for a good number of early miles. Good times all around!
• We cruised into Dry Branch 7 minutes up on desired splits, so we took it really easy on the Crawford climb and descent.
• Arrived at Dowell's still well up on time.
• I didn't meet crew so jumped ahead while everyone else wasted time at the Aid Station.
• Dowell's Draft to North River Gap (22 - 37)
• I climbed Hankey Mountain like a beast. 5 miles nearly 15 minutes faster than last year.
• Had my first chances to stop here and there for a few seconds to stop and marvel at the moon.
• I took it easy down into Lookout Mountain.
• The dirt fire roads were intense. It was so dusty and dry ... lots of coughing. Had to pull out a Buff to cover my mouth.
• Easy into North River, perhaps too easy, minding the frustratingly technical 6 mile descent.
• I met my crew still up 12 minutes on my splits, so I took my sweet time. The kiddo was still awake, waiting to cheer me on!
• Made a dumb mental mistake that cost me time the rest of the race -- I felt so comfortable with my 2 new UD hard flasks that I refused to take the pre-mixed older style bottles from my wife. Instead, each subsequent meetup I handed off my hard flasks, she dumped remaining contents, then transferred liquids from other perfectly usable bottles back into the hard flasks. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Note for future: Wife has authority to say "no, that's a stupid decision!"
• North River Gap to Turnaround (37 - 52)
• Strong climb up to Little Bald. Over 15 minutes faster than last year.
• Little Bald had potatoes! My empty, growling stomach was very appreciative.
• Took it really easy all the way to the Turnaround, just cruising. Honestly, I was trying to stop making gains on my planned splits.
• When I started the 2.5 mile climb up to Reddish, I turned off my headlamp and ran by the moonlight. It may have slowed me down a bit, but it was an amazing experience.
• On the climb up to Reddish, I saw Rusiecki and "The Norwegian" coming back down. I was only 5 minutes behind them.
• I spent a minute at the top oooh-ing and aaaah-ing at the moon.
• Cruised into the Turnaround, lost some more time to Rusiecki ... meh, whatever.
• Wasted more time at the Aid Station than I should have, but was 15 minutes up on my splits.
• The Turnaround didn't have potatoes. Sons of bitches!
• Turnaround to North River Gap (52 - 67)
• I ran all the way up the 2+ mile blacktop climb. Climbing legs were still going strong!
• Bumped into Thompson on the way up, he was around 10 minutes back of me.
• It was a super chill run all the way to the top of Little Bald.
• Finally turned my headlamp back on at some point ... ran roughly 9 or 10 miles without it!
• Took it easy on the technical early miles of the big descent, then Thompson steamrolled me and I did my best to keep up.
• I rolled into the Aid Station maybe a minute behind Thompson. I should've left with him and his pacer, John Andersen ... but I'm an idiot and made another mental mistake. I swapped out shoes because the crazy dry trails had been getting fine dirt particles inside my shoes and one of my big toes was developing a hot spot. I should've just sucked it up! Damn it!
• North River Gap to Dowell's Draft (67 - 80)
• I left a couple minutes after Thompson, then ran into Amy Rusiecki and stopped for a quick chat ... wait, is this a race or a leisurely training run?! She tried imploring me to go catch her husband and Thompson.
• Lookout Mountain murdered my soul. I couldn't get into a groove. It took me 90 minutes to get up to the Aid Station.
• I traded barbs with Bob Clouston and Becca Weast for a minute or two, then cursed them for not having potatoes.
• The remaining climb up to Hankey went better, and I got back into a groove on the descent into Dowell's. But by that point, I knew I was already 15-20 minutes back of Thompson and Rusiecki.
• I wasted a lot of time, again, at the Aid Station.
• My time buffer had evaporated on Lookout Mountain. Getting in under 20 hours was gonna be a tall order.
• Dowell's Draft to Dry Branch Gap (80 - 88)
• I left the Aid Station right behind "The Norwegian". Sondre Amdahl wasn't looking good, and I passed him and his Euro poles before we even got to HWY250 and found myself in 5th place.
• I crossed HWY250 at 16:01. Less than 4 hours to get the job done. Could I do it?!
• I made good work of Crawford Mountain. I climbed fast and my legs felt good.
• I crested and cruised down to Dry Branch Gap at 17:19. I thought my effort on Crawford would've had me arriving at 17:15. That 4 minute different shook my confidence. So, as is wont to do under increasingly tight time objectives, I pissed away some more time at the Aid Station.
• Did they have potatoes here?! I have no idea ... it's all a blur at this point.
• Dry Branch Gap to the Finish (88 - 101.85)
• As I left the Aid Station, I heard another runner coming in behind me. So help me god, if I miracled a sub-20 effort and still got 6th, I would be throwing a finish line tantrum the likes of which no one has ever seen!
• I tried pushing up Elliot, but my quads had had enough. I couldn't hit a groove on the uneven rocks so I settled into a hard hike for most of the climb.
• I kept chasing the clock. If I didn't hit the gravel road on Elliot's by 18:30, sub-20 wasn't gonna happen.
• The incline eased up but I still had trouble running. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
• I popped out on the gravel road at 18:32 and tried mustering the strength to get down to Falls Hollow by 19:05 ... a near impossible task.
• As I got closer to the bottom I still couldn't turn my legs over fast enough. I pulled into Falls Hollow at 19:08, utterly dejected.
• After a quick fill-up of Tailwind I still tried to give it a go, but the little climbs in the final 5 miles made it painfully obvious that sub-20 just wasn't gonna happen.
• I kept pushing and hit the Mile To Go sign. My watch then rolled over from 19:53 to 19:54. 6 flat for the final mile?! Yeah, that's a big fat NO!
• I eased up and finally cruised in just under 20:03 ... so close!

The Full Accounting of Chris Roberts and the 2017 Grindstone Endurance Run:

So there was this little get together in the mountains of Virginia called the Grindstone 100 ... maybe you've heard of it. I headed out there to my third Grindstone and to complete my 5th 100 miler. I'd come a long way since Grindstone #1 and I was feeling confident about my abilities, but was afraid the deeper talent pool this year would make it nearly impossible to repeat in the Top 5. I knew Avery Collins, Brian Rusiecki, and Caleb Denton would most assuredly beat me. Then there was another highly ranked dude, a pole-tacular Norwegian who has made the rounds on the Ultra Trail World Tour circuit, and then rising East Coast phenom Matt Thompson making his Hundo debut. And there's always the chance of a sleeper having a breakout performance. So instead of worrying about position, I decided to prioritize patience and run on my own terms.

The ultimate goal: sneak in under 20 hours.


My crew for this adventure was my wife, who has helped me out at most of my other 100 Mile races, and my 3 year old daughter making her crew debut! Before I even get into the race report, I've got to give huge props to my wife for taking on the challenge. Her job may very well have been more difficult than mine. It's not often one finds themselves spending the better part of a day driving around backcountry roads just to meet up and help someone for a couple minutes at a time, all while juggling a young kid and trying to find the time to breast pump in a car because one has been forced to abandon their infant for the weekend.

(Getting ready ... and looking enthused, as always)

(New crew member!)

The race started in typical fashion, with a handful of overeager runners mixing it up with the big boys. I tried not to pay them any mind. It was friggin hot out ... it felt like it was 95 and I wasn't about to waste my energy racing right from the starting line. But I also tried to make a point to keep up with Matt Thompson to have some company in the early miles. Less than 2 miles in, I noticed my feet were feeling a bit heavy, and the next thing I knew ... CRASH! I didn't fall so much as trip and land precisely 99.99% of my body weight on a rock that smashed into my knee. Somehow my hands caught the ground and I powered myself back up before losing control and splaying out, but my knee instantly ached. Luckily, as the race went on, it rarely caused anything more than a slight irritation. But it did look considerably swollen by the end of the race, and nearly two weeks later it's still stiff, swollen, and achy.

(Why are we running so fast? It's only Mile 2! Photo credit: Chris Thompson)

After "cresting" the Little North Mountain section around Mile 4, I happily reconnected with Thompson who was showing an appreciation for the distance by being unwilling to run with the leaders. Christopher Miller connected up with us and we three went on our merry little way. Halfway into the single-track up Elliott Knob we turned on our headlamps and both Chris and Matt had problems. Chris' read fully charged but would only blink and turn back off, and Matt's wouldn't turn on at all. Our pace slowed a bit as they bumbled with their lights and I did my best to light the way with my headlamp. Chris got his working before the steep gravel road, and Matt sorted out his batteries soon thereafter. First crisis averted!

We hiked the whole way up Elliott Knob, getting passed by one or two runners. But we still made great time -- it was the fastest I'd ever ascended, in a race or training run. We patiently made our way down into Dry Branch Gap without much fanfare. We were 9 minutes up on my time from last year, which I thought was a tad fast for the 20-hour goal Matt and I shared. A quick fill of the bottles and we were off to tackle Crawford Mountain. Matt was more than happy to accommodate my slower pace in the early miles, and we made sure to take it easy and hike where necessary. Then, it was down the Chimney Hollow Trail and onward to Dowell's Draft. We tucked in behind a runner for awhile, and while I felt we could've gone a bit faster on the flat section at the creek bottom I made no attempt to speed up. The fear of going out too fast kept me in check.

At Dowell's Draft, as has become customary, all the runners in my pack peeled off to meet up with crew, while I simply filled my bottles and took off, gaining 2-3minutes on them in the process. I figured Matt and maybe another runner or two would quickly catch up on the 5 mile Hankey Mountain climb, but that never happened and, for the most part, I spent the rest of the race alone.

(Dowell's Draft, leaving everyone in my dust! Photo credit: Chris Thompson)

Last year, John Andersen and I had a pity party climbing Hankey Mountain and we took it way too easy. This year I was determined to power through. I ran about 90% of the climb and ended up knocking 15 minutes off my time from the previous year. I was booking it and feeling great! I made sure to stop every so often to catch a glimpse of the massive moon ... no sense in taking things too seriously!

Once I crested and began the descent to Lookout Mountain Aid Station, I took it very, very easy. I was way up on my splits already and I had no intention of killing my quads on any descents just to keep throwing minutes in the bank. Around this time, the 3-week dry spell in the area started to become very apparent. I was choking on the kicked up dust so bad that I had to take out my buff from my pack to cover my mouth. I continued my easy-going pace the remaining 6 miles into North River Gap -- perhaps a bit too easy.

At North River Gap, Mile 37, I met up with my wife and 3-year-old daughter for the first time. Because I was still well up on my splits I didn't rush the stop. It was nice to spend a few minutes there, to take a breather, and to say "hey" to my daughter -- what a trooper, staying up to see daddy run through just after midnight! Then I was on my way to tackle The Big Climb up to Little Bald.

(The Crew has all the fun!)

My ascent of Grindstone Mountain and Chestnut Ridge up to Little Bald was rather unremarkable. It was calm and controlled, but focused. I got a little antsy at the end, waiting and waiting for the top to present itself. Last year I felt that I took it too easy on this climb, so I was determined to have a more honest go at it this time around. I ended up peeling more than 15 minutes off that 7 mile climb, and my legs felt great. When I got to the clearing at the top, I took a moment to turn off my headlamp and gaze up at the sky and soak in the moon.

I calmly made my way the extra 2 miles or so to the Little Bald Aid Station. I had been feeling the hunger pangs of an empty stomach for a while, so I devoured some potatoes to supplement my hourly Huma gel intake. After refilling my bottles, grabbing more potatoes, and heading out, I linked up with another runner who informed me that Brian Rusiecki had left the Aid Station "right before me". A competitive jolt shot through my body, but I reigned it in and reminded myself I was already well up on my goal splits and there was no sense going overboard so early in the race. And honestly, chasing Rusiecki?! I'm not that good!

The miles ticked by quickly, and when it came time to begin the 2.5 mile gradual climb up to Reddish Knob, I turned off my headlamp, slightly eased up on my pace, and continued to soak in the beautiful full moon atmosphere. A little ways into the quick blacktop out-and-back to the top of Reddish, I came across Rusiecki and "the Norwegian" on the way back down. They were no more than 5 minutes up on me. Nevertheless, I took it easy to the top and the succeeding 2.5 miles of hard blacktop to the turnaround ... all sans headlamp. I counted runners coming by and figured I was in 6th or 7th. I was 15 minutes up on my goal time, so I had another casual crew stop. Andersen was still waiting on Thompson, so he happily helped me get organized before I hit the road again. I quickly checked the food offerings but saw no potatoes. Son of a bitch!

(It's hard to beat running under that all night long)

I started the climb back up and was able to run the entire 2+ miles only stopping once to change out my headlamp, having forgotten to do so at the turnaround. On fresh legs it's an easy climb, but after 50 miles of running it might require hiking breaks, so I was pleased to find my legs still had the strength to power through. At one point I came across Thompson, and figured he was around 10 minutes back of me. I figured I'd be seeing him again shortly.

The rest of the way back to the top of Little Bald was unremarkable. I left my headlamp off until I got back onto the dirt fire road, having gone nearly 90 minutes with only a 2 lumen red light and the bright moon to guide my way. I proceeded back down to North River Gap, making sure to take my time on the more technical rock sections in the first mile or so of the descent. As expected, Thompson came charging up behind me. I let him by, then conversed and ran with him as best I could. At one point, half way down the descent, I had to let him go ... I was unwilling to put that kind of punishment on my quads and knees.

After cresting Grindstone Mountain, I picked up the pace and cruised into North River Gap, maybe a minute behind Thompson. I was still 15-20 minutes up on my goal splits so I again decided to take my time. The dirt had been causing an irritation on my big toe and my shoes were starting to feel a bit too stiff, so I sat down and changed shoes. I feared a blister or the frustrating maceration I'd experienced a few months ago at Vermont. Right then and there, I committed a major mental lapse that easily cost me 15 minutes. Instead of leaving with Thompson and Andersen, who was pacing, I watched them cruise out of the Aid Station as I swapped out shoes and slowly sorted out my nutrition. I never expected myself to be able to finish with or ahead of Thompson -- he's just too fast -- but I had entertained the idea of magically keeping up with him for the first 100K just to be able to tag along with him and Andersen to share some miles for as long as I could hang on. That's the position I found myself in and I failed to take advantage of it. Instead, I probably left the Aid Station 2-3 minutes after them, and I never saw them again!

A couple minutes after finally leaving the Aid Station, I bumped into Amy Rusiecki and literally stopped mid-race to say hey and chat her up for a minute. I was honestly a bit taken aback upon realizing she knew who I was -- we've chatted a couple times before and, it's true, I did famously win the Solo Title at her Vermont 100 this summer, but I dunno, she and her husband are fancy, bigtime racers, they're not supposed to pay any mind to us common folk! ... Anyways, it was more valuable time wasted ... but I was still up on my splits, and let's be honest, I'm the one paying to be out here so if I wanna waste time then so be it!

I began the rocky, disruptive climb up Lookout Mountain and immediately felt out of sorts. It's a crap section of trail and it's always difficult to get into a good rhythm. Three years in a row this section has kicked my ass ... so I'm calling it ... the Lookout Mountain Ascent is the World's Worst Stretch of Trail.

I finally arrived at Lookout Mountain Aid Station after nearly 90 minutes of hiking and pretending to run. Just like that, 15 minutes evaporated and I no longer had any cushion on my splits. For the entire course I made 30-60 second per mile gains compared to 2016 ... except for this stretch. Those 6 miles chewed me up and spit me out. And to make matters worse, those jerks at the Aid Station didn't have any potatoes for me to munch on! I stood around for a minute, utterly dejected, trying to muster up enough focus to continue on.

(Do I have to keep running? Photo credit: Becca Weast)

(Bitching about potatoes is apparently meme-worthy. Photo credit: Becca Weast and John Andersen)

I eventually got back into my groove and cruised on into Dowell's Draft. 20 miles to go and I was right on my 20-hour split. This was going to be a close one! Yet again, I wasted too much time at this Aid Station. I spent what felt like 15 minutes fighting off Frank Gonzalez's helpful attempts to feed me. No Frank, I don't want any broth!

Did they have potatoes? Did they not? I have no idea! It was all a blur at this point ... a slow moving blur. Oh, and apparently I utterly demolished my daughter's leaf pile, which she had been carefully crafting as she waited to see me ... sorry about that! Despite taking my sweet time, I left right after "The Norwegian" -- Sondre Amdahl -- who looked to be hurting. I quickly caught up with him and managed to find myself in 5th place for the second year in a row.

(I know you're thinking it ... yes, that hoodie IS adorable.)

Now it was time to tackle Crawford Mountain. The return trip is a beast. The final 2.5 miles of the climb are unrelenting. I hiked a lot of it, but I kept pushing my legs, trying to string together any running time that I could -- 10 seconds, 30 seconds, 1 minute. I felt strong, confident. As I climbed I could swear I was hearing voices right below me ... someone wanted my 5th place!

...Then things got a bit weird...

I imagined myself sprinting for the finish line as the clock ticked toward 20:00. I would be going flat out. I would sneak in right under the wire, and collapse to the ground, bawling my eyes out, overcome with the emotion of achieving a goal that two years ago I would've thought impossible ... sub 20 at Grindstone.

The scene played over and over in my mind. Before I knew it, my eyes were welling up. Yup ... I was friggin crying mid-race.

You can do this, Chris, just keep pushing! Sub 20! Sub 20! Now wipe off those tears and run!

I kept fighting off my standard urge to say "meh, if you don't hit your goal, no big deal." I pushed all the way to the switchback that signaled I was nearly to the top. I made a careful survey of the trails below me ... there was no one to be seen. After cresting, I took a breather and then cruised down into Dry Branch Gap, still slightly holding back on the descent for fear of prematurely bombing out my quads. By this point, my emotional composure had been restored.

At Dry Branch I was 88 miles in and still smack dab on my splits. I took a couple of minutes at the Aid Station to regroup -- probably a minute or two more than I should have ... yet again -- and then headed out for The Final Climb. As I departed I could hear hooting and hollering behind me ... someone was still right on my heels.

Now was the time to give it my all. I kept chugging along. Up, up, up. But when I started hitting the extended stretches of loose rock towards the top of the climb, I practically stopped in my tracks. I couldn't build up the urge to run. I'd give it a go but each rock I tried to maneuver over would break my stride. Once I cleared the rocks I reached more manageable inclines, but I still couldn't run. My climbing legs were gone, left somewhere back on Crawford. I checked my watch ... over and over again. I was nearly out of time. If I didn't reach the gravel road at the top of Elliott before 18:30 I had no shot at breaking 20-hours. The trail kept climbing and climbing and I kept hiking, throwing in failed attempts at running a few times a minute. This climb had to end soon. I had nothing left to give. 18:30 ticked by. I tried convincing myself a super-human effort could make due with an 18:35 arrival, but my confidence was waning, quickly.

Finally, I hit the gravel road at 18:32 and immediately jumped into the quad-pounding descent. With my legs shot from the climb, I found them unable to turn over quickly enough to handle the steep gravel road. Instead of flying down I felt like I was hobbling. Once I hit the single track I could open my stride, but it didn't last long. The final 1.5 miles down to Falls Hollow were a solid 1-2 minutes per mile slower than I wanted. I pulled into Falls Hollow at 19:08. My day was done. There was no way I'd break 20-hours now. I had arrived 3 minutes too late. I've never filled up bottles here before, but the midday heat had me downing a lot of liquids on Elliott. I loaded up on Tailwind knowing my body was done with Huma gels for the day and filled the other bottle with water to use as a spray. Then I headed out for the final stretch.

I kept trying to force the pace, but the slightest incline had me walking. Those little, worthless, good-for-nothing hills felt like mountains. Once I started descending along the rocky, rooty creek trails I did my best to push myself, and, for a moment here and there, I truly thought I could still get the job done. When the trails smoothed out I started looking for the Mile To Go sign. I honestly had no idea where it was, so I just kept pushing. I could've sworn the Spectator Spot from the beginning of the race was at the 1 Mile mark, but when I happened upon it, I saw no sign. My watch read 19:49. I still held out hope, but the odds were stacked against me. Then ... I SAW THE SIGN! I glanced at my watch. It ticked from 19:53 to 19:54. I immediately let up. 6 flat to finish the race? Impossible!

For the final mile I let my legs and lungs rest, and busied myself with uncomfortably frequent looks over my shoulder to make sure my pursuer wasn't hot on my tail. When I crossed the dam and hit the edge of the lake I looked back and didn't see anyone. I was free to jog it in without any fear of a last-second sprint. My daughter ran up to me at the finishing chute and I spent a few moments trying to convince her to run in with me. But she's way too shy for that, so instead she recoiled and backed away while I awkwardly stood motionless. I took a glance at the clock and realized a hard sprint could get me in under 20:03. I tagged the line as the clock hit 20:02:59 a bit disappointed in having come so close, but still proud of the effort overall.

(Find a better finishing form on the day, I dare ya!)

(Done!)

Final tally:

• 5th Place for the second year in a row ... Top Finisher Puffy!
• 20:02:57 officially
• 1:17 faster than last year, 4:07 faster than 2015
• 16th fastest running of the course
• 12th fastest person to ever complete the course ... not too shabby

(Award Ceremony ... showing off the puffy)

All the Thanks

A huge thanks to Clark Zealand and his cadre of volunteers. Grindstone is an amazing race, made all the better by the hard work and dedication of everyone at the aid stations and putting in the work behind the scenes.

Many thanks to my mother for flying in and turning Grindstone weekend into her annual babysitting duties.

And deepest thanks to my wife for juggling so many responsibilities just to help me run in the mountains for 20 hours (and 3 minutes). In all honesty, I'm a bit jealous because she got to spend the night and day hanging out with our daughter while I was off getting sweaty and tired.

Gear & Nutrition

• Altra Lone Peaks
• Injinji toe socks
• Patagonia shirt and Strider Pro shorts
• Boco trucker hat
• 17 Huma gels
• 3000 cals of Tailwind (300cal/20oz/2hrs)
• 1 ClifBlock, some potatoes (but not enough!), some oranges, and a pint of apple juice

Post-race Assessment

Knee:

• I must have hit my knee awfully hard because it's still a bit swollen and stiff after 2 weeks.
• I can jog fine, but I sometimes limp when I walk, and bringing my foot all the way up to my butt creates a good deal of pain at the point of impact -- no track intervals for me any time soon!

Body:

• I think my legs are figuring out this whole 100 miles thing.
• I was sore the next day, but I was still able to hobble-jog enough to chase my daughter around for a rousing game of hide-and-seek.
• I never had problems going up and down steps.
• Most importantly, immediately after the race I DID NOT get the shakes! Losing the ability to regulate body heat after a grueling race is sooo last year!

Strengths:

• Climbing skills have greatly improved. I guess that's what happens when 30% of your training revolves around 12% climbs on the treadmill.
• Half decent pacing throughout the race. Despite not breaking 20 hours, I'm proud of the effort I put in over those final 20 miles.

Weaknesses:

• Technical descents -- Lookout Mountain outbound and first miles coming back down from Little Bald. 12% smooth descents on the treadmill aren't cutting it. I need to find steep, technical stretches of trail or maybe throw some squats into my long treadmill descents.
• Lookout Mountain climb -- smooth treadmill climbs can't prepare you for everything.
• Nutrition -- I need to be better about taking in gels over the final hours of the race.
• Dilly-dallying at aid stations -- if I want to be competitive I need to get back to quick transitions.

Next year:

• I know I left at least 10 minutes on the table at various aid station stops.
• I took it too easy under the moonlight and on some of the mild grades in the middle of the race and between Dowell's and Lookout. I could probably buy back 5-10 minutes right there.
• Figuring out the return trip up Lookout Mountain could save me another 10+ minutes.
• Further hardening my quads could save another handful of minutes in the final 12 miles.
• All told, it's not unreasonable to expect a 30 minute improvement next year, under ideal conditions ... Bring it on!

(Fly-By of the competition)

Grindstone Runners and the Blustery Race

The rain rain rain came down down down in rushing, rising riv'lets ...

(Runners at the 2016 Grindstone 100 -- Disney)

In the days leading up to Grindstone, I went back and forth on handhelds or a vest. I prefer handhelds, but was afraid I wouldn't have enough storage for my nutrition, spare headlamp battery, and Houdini jacket. So I settled on my vest. Despite the added weight, I'd have the advantage of having my hands free to power climb with hands-on-quads. Why does any of this matter? Well, because I wanted to set the stage for my ridiculous attempt at seeing if my rain jacket would fit over my vest:

(My Michelle Jenneke moment?)

Now that we've got that ridiculousness out of the way, let's get into the race report.

Background

I came into Grindstone equally confident and terrified.

I completed it last year for my first Hundo. I reconned over 60 miles of the course 3 weeks prior. I'd raced well all Spring and early Summer. Anything less than a Top 10 would be a major letdown.

On the other hand...

7 weeks prior I DNF'd Eastern States 100 because of hip pain. I'd spent the last 6 weeks solely devoted to physical therapy -- 1 to 3 hours of stretching and strength work every single day. 3 weeks before the race, I tested out my hip with back-to-back 6 hour runs on the course and everything felt good. But a few days later the hip pain returned. I shut down running completely, betting entirely on physical therapy. The pain only fully subsided in the week leading up to Grindstone. I was just hoping my endurance hadn't deteriorate too much.

So ... that's how the race started ... feeling like a good day would translate into a stellar performance and yet still fearful that hip problems would lead me to hobble for hours on end towards a depressing finish.

As for the race day conditions, it looked like Hurricane Matthew, which was rolling up Florida and the Carolinas, would be forcing a separate storm cell to get stuck in position right over the race course. The Forecast: 60 degrees and Rain, Rain, Rain beginning just as the race started ... and it wasn't expected to taper off for nearly 24 hours.

Oh, and when I checked in before the race I was surprised to find out I was seeded 4th. Somebody was clearly having fun at my expense!

Nutrition Plan

My Nutrition Plan has stabilized over the past year. I dialed into something that really worked at Western States. I kept the plan the same as for Western States -- 250 calories per hour, 100 from an hourly Huma gel and the rest from EFS Liquid Shot and Tailwind. I would dial back my hydration to around 3.5oz per mile instead of the 4+ from Western States.

I planned to start with a whopping 1,700 calories so my wife wouldn't need to meet me until North River Gap (TWOT lot) at Mile 37. Then, I planned on restocking with an appropriate amount of nutrition again at the Turn Around (Briery Branch) Mile 51, North River Gap at Mile 65, Dowell's Draft at Mile 80, and Dry Branch Gap at Mile 87. I'd come in, swap out my 2 bottles, restock on Huma gels, and head back out. Simple and easy!

The Race

I'm an extreme overplanner when it comes to races. I have spreadsheets and formulas to determine appropriate race pace, nutrition, hydration, etc. Since my hip was a bit of a question mark, I vastly simplified my planning. I came up with a crude plan for a 20:40 finishing time, complete with intermediary crew meetup times. I knew that the weather could slow my pace a bit, and my hip was a major wildcard, but I thought that was a legit time goal for ideal conditions. I just left it at that and figured I'd roll with the punches on race day.

Pre-Race

-0:45

Awkward foam rolling in the back of the SUV and even more awkward pigeon stretch.

Am I the only ultra runner out here stretching? I feel like such a noob.

-0:15

Routine hip mobility exercises ... doctors orders!

Again, I feel like a roadie who walked up to the wrong starting line.

-0:05

Chat up some running buddies at the starting line. Set myself up right at the front.

Start to Dowell's Draft

0:00

The gun goes off. No adrenaline rush like last year. I've done this before, no big deal!

Get in the front. You need to avoid the dam bottleneck 1/4 mile into the race.

0:05 (Mile 0.5)

I quickly pair up with John Andersen and Aaron Saft. John and I ran a few races together this Spring and seem to be nearly identical in terms of fitness; he's joked that I've become his new "Nemesis". At the end of the day, one of us would have bragging rights, but for now it made sense to stick together. As for Aaron, he's an otherworldly runner who was a solid 40+ minutes ahead in the Beast Series standings. Despite it being his first 100, only a miracle (or an insidious trip) would have me finishing ahead of him today.  We three, and some others, run in a pack over the early miles.

0:50 (Mile 5) -- Falls Hollow Aid Station

Easy 5 mile warmup! Falls Hollow is a useless aid station ... should I stop? No, keep going.

1:30 (Mile 8)

Deep into the 4+ mile, 2,000' climb up Elliot's Knob.     It's getting steep: 20% grade.     Hiking feels good, not too laborious.

Rain is picking up, better throw on my jacket.

2:10 (Mile 12)

Stupid Altra insoles! I love these new Lone Peaks, but I really should've glued the insoles down before the race. They're waterlogging and sliding around, folding over in the front and putting strain on my toes.

I'm gonna have some fugly toenails when this day is done.

I vocalize my frustration. John chides me for my pre-race oversight.

SPOILER ALERT: This is what my piggies looked like after the race ... I don't think toenails are supposed to be that color!

(Ultra runner toes / Altra insole toes ... yuck!)

2:20 (Mile 13)

That jerk Aaron Saft nefariously distracts me with talk of life and family. I lose focus.

CRASH!

I bite it on the slick, unstable rocks that pepper the trail. Blood runs down my arm, but nothing is broken. More importantly, I didn't fall onto the bad hip.

2:37 (Mile 14) -- Dry Branch Gap Aid Station

Our group is hovering around the Top 10. There's about 7 of us that roll through together. Aaron is clearly taking it easy, and I'm sure there's a couple overeager runners up ahead.

What was my split supposed to be? I think I'm making good time. Nevermind. Doesn't matter.

What?! I have to wait in line to fill up my bottles with water?! THIS. IS. THE. WORST!

2:50 (Mile 16)

We proceed up the Crawford climb with a mostly manageable pace. John tries counting off the 5 false summits along the way, but I can't make heads or tails of any of them.

3:13 (Mile 17)

We crest Crawford and start our second major descent. These damn insoles better not get in my way!

3:30 (Mile 19)

Stomach is feeling a bit off. I pull off to scratch in the woods.

Last year I spent way too much time going to the bathroom. I sure hope my stomach settles today.

That Imodium better kick in soon...

3:45 (Mile 20)

After a mad dash at an unsustainable clip, I catch back up with John and Aaron. That was too fast ... might have been a bad idea! It's probably better to catch back up than be stranded on my own.

3:50 (Mile 21)

We cross HWY 250 and come across Caleb Denton -- Golden Ticket winner at Georgia Death Race this year.

... Both he and Aaron will be running it next year. After my respectable showing at States, I made the rash decision to sign up as well. Running with both of them here at Grindstone could be a glimpse into the suffering I might expect if I'm to compete for a Golden Ticket next year. SPOILER ALERT: Don't put your money on me!

Caleb is battling a bum hip from getting checked by a car earlier in the week. Despite all that, he looks like a friggin gazelle bounding up the climbs.

We all put in an honest effort in the mile-plus stretch from HWY 250 to Dowell's Draft.

This section isn't nearly as flat as the blip on the elevation profile suggests. The first hint of fatigue is setting in...

4:02 (Mile 22) -- Dowell's Draft Aid Station

As our remaining group of 4 rolls in, everyone but me peels off to their crew just before the Aid Station tent. I've got a new bag of Tailwind ready and I throw it in my bottle, top everything off, and head on out.

Clark, the RD, is there and shouts, "Hey, looks like you've moved up a lot!" I respond with a joking, "I wish! Everyone else is right over there."

I'm feeling good. I'm a few minutes up on my planned pace. The race is about ready to start sorting itself out!

Dowell's Draft to North River Gap

4:20 (Mile 23)

John, Aaron, Caleb, and I regather our little posse and begin the climb up Hankey Mountain. After a couple of miles I start to feel the strain of keeping up with the top dogs. I happily let Aaron and Caleb effortlessly bound up the mountain. It's just me and John now.

4:22 (Mile 23)

John and I have a bit of a pity party after the posse breaks up. We were running slightly out of our comfort zone to stick with the others and now, over 4 hours into the race, we're close to paying the price for it. Why'd we try to keep up with those guys for so long?! What a rookie move!

We meander up the mountain, taking it easy and regaining our composure.

I suddenly notice how soaking wet I am.

5:00 (Mile 27)

Ugh! My mouth is SOOOO SALTY! I'd kill for some water right now! Why do I have to run with 2 mixed bottles?! WHYYYY!

5:34 (Mile 30) -- Lookout Mountain Aid Station

Despite the rain, we make good time on the climb up Hankey and the descent into the Lookout Mountain AS, managed by Charlottesville folks.

I bump into Bob Clouston and shine my headlamp right into his eyes like a total jerk.

Water! Oh my god, it's water! I squat down under the water jug spigot and take in a few big gulps. Salty mouth is vanquished!

6:10 (Mile 33)

The miles are ticking by effortlessly.

6:35 (Mile 35)

I almost detour on a spur trail, but John knows what's up. We just passed a lookout spot near the TWOT Lot ... The beginning phase of the race is coming to an end.

"Hey John, I remember this from my training run! It's only a mile to North River Gap ... Or maybe a mile and a half ... Something like that ... I remember because on my training run I got out here and had to turn around cuz I forgot to lock my car and I ran a mile and a half before turning around ... Wait, did I turn around right here or somewhere else? ... You know what, No, I don't remember ... I'll shut up now. Good story though, right?!"

6:47 (Mile 37) -- North River Gap Aid Station

We cross the bridge and cruise along the flat section of trail before hopping onto the FR95 blacktop and strolling into the TWOT Lot.

I'm damn close to my projected arrival time!

My wife swaps out my bottles and helps me restock my gels. My focus is sidetracked when I decide I want some water. My wife's bottle is nearly empty. Despite there being literal jugs of water in the back of the SUV I head to the Aid Station tables, hoping to use my wife's bottle as a cup. Why must both of my bottles be mixed?! She trails along but without the bottle -- cuz, you know, I never told her to bring the damn bottle. Grindstone is supposed to be cupless, so a moment of panic ensues. I really, really want a swig of something without sodium! Luckily, there's a couple cups of ginger ale out, so I down two and head out.

Crap! I forgot to say goodbye to my wife ... oh well, I'm sure she'll understand!

... And whaddya know, despite swapping out shoes, John has magically managed to hit the trail before me. What the heck?!

Okay ... One third of the race down! Now it's time to climb!

North River Gap to Briery Branch

7:40 (Mile 40)

John and I are well into our assault on the 7mile and nearly 3,000' climb up Chestnut Ridge to Little Bald Knob. We hike anything remotely steep.

I'm itching to jog a bit more on the steep parts, but my body is welcoming the modest pace.

8:00 (Mile 41)

John: "This one time ... at Bighorn ..."

Chris: "This one time ... at States ..."

8:20 (Mile 42)

A headlamp comes careening down the mountain towards us.

NO WAY! There is NO WAY that's First Place! No. No. No No No!

The runner stops. It's Andrew Simpson. He seems a bit confused. We decide he got turned around at a clearing a couple hundred yards up ahead and unknowingly made a U-turn.

We stick with him up to the clearing to confirm, and then he bounds off into the distance.

8:50 (Mile 44)

The Summit! Finally!

I check my watch. The climb took about 2 hours even. 5 min slower than I'd hoped for, but the miles just felt so easy, especially when sharing them with a partner ... and it's hard to beat feeling refreshed after a 7 mile climb less than halfway into a race!

We're in the High Country now! 3 miles of smooth descent, 3 miles of climbing, and 2 miles of descent to the Turn Around ...

8:55 (Mile 44)

The rain becomes very noticeable. The single track of the TWOT Loop provided a good deal of coverage, but now there was a lot of exposure to the rain and occasional wind gusts.

John: "Where's the Aid Station?! It should be right here!"
Chris: "Nope! It's about a 20 minute jog past the summit. The course description says less than 8 from North River Gap, but it's really almost 9 miles! Isn't this fun?!"
John: "That's so stupid!"
Chris: "My training run clocked North River to North River right at 30 miles, but Clark says it's only 28! Hooray!"

9:13 (Mile 45)

We finally made it to the fabled Little Bald Knob Aid Station. We spot Andrew at the aid station.

I top off a bottle and get ready to head back out into the rain.

The bonfire looks warm and inviting! ... But I have work to do ...

9:18 (Mile 45)

After catching up with Andrew, he rapidly bounds ahead.

Chris: "What is he doing?!"

John: "I don't know. He keeps gapping us and then wasting time at aid stations!"

Chris: "There's no way he can maintain that. He'll wear out, it's only a matter of time."

10:10 (Mile 49)

After some smooth miles along the jeep trail and a couple miles of climbing, we're at Reddish Knob. We've been making okay time, but we're very much keeping our pace in check.

At the top we find a confused Andrew. He's been there a good number of minutes, exposed to the wind and rain in a t-shirt, searching for the bib punch. We all look quickly and then bolt back down the road.

Someone must've snagged the punch. Oh well, nothing you can do about it!

10:15 (Mile 50)

A headlamp! ... And another! The first few runners come trickling by as we make our way down the 2 mile blacktop descent to the Turn Around at Briery Branch Gap. The leaders are probably 45 minutes and 4 miles up on us.

It soon becomes apparent that we've missed 2 or 3 runners while we were up at Reddish Knob -- Aaron and Caleb were nowhere to be seen.

The rain is really picking up now. I'm wet. I'm cold. Am I really delusional enough to think this is fun?!

10:30 (Mile 51.5) -- Turn Around at Briery Branch Gap Aid Station

Taking it easy down the pavement, I finally roll into the Turn Around. I'm 15 minutes behind schedule now, but who cares! The last 30 miles felt like a breeze!

I trade in my shirt and rain jacket for a long sleeve and a new Houdini. I need some dry clothes for the return journey.

I complain about a cold, stiff knee so my wife hands me some Ibuprofin. I don't usually take pain killers but it's cold and I don't want to worry about my knee and my hip. I fumble the handoff and one plops into the mud. I reach down and pick it up anyway. Mmmm, muddy pain killers!

As I make my way out of the Aid Station, I pass a guy who bites it, slipping on the wet pavement. But he's alright. Again, somehow John makes it out of the Aid Station before me. I pride myself on efficient Aid Station visits, but this jerk is putting me to shame!

HALFWAY!

Briery Branch to North River Gap

11:03 (Mile 53)

We make it back up the 2 mile climb to Reddish Knob. We had passed Andrew again at the Aid Station, but he's long since bounded past us up the incline. Come on, Andrew, BONK! Don't let me down!

Last year, this section was a disaster for me. I got passed by so many people I lost count. It was embarrassing. It takes a couple minutes longer than I'da liked, but we hike up the whole thing comfortably.

John falls behind. His stomach has been off-and-on for most of the run together. I jokingly yell back that I'm not waiting for him, fully expecting him to connect back up in a few minutes. In reality, that was the last I saw of him all day.

11:20 (Mile 55)

I'm back on the jeep trail now. It's completely flooded. The tire ruts are streams and the berm in the middle is barely runnable at times ... and then there's the occasional 20' puddle. So this is what happens when it rains for 12 hours straight!

More runners start to flow past on their outbound journey. Some of them look miserable. And they all keep muddying up my jeep trail!

11:45 (Mile 57) -- Little Bald Knob Aid Station

I've meandered along the jeep track at a consistent pace. I find Andrew at the Aid Station and, again, leave ahead of him. Come on, Andrew, just BONK already! You're gonna implode, I just know it!

12:15 (Mile 59)

I reach the top of Little Bald. It's still dark out ... and raining. Andrew has passed me for good. It turns out I'll never see him again. He ends up gapping me by a whopping 40 minutes. I definitely called that one wrong! Congrats to him!

Last year I careened down (in the daylight) into North River Gap at an unsustainable pace. I thought I felt good the entire time, but I bonked immediately afterward. That wasn't going to happen this year. I easily descended in 70 minutes on my training run, I wanted to dial that back to 80 or 85 minutes right now.

Okay, 7 miles of descent! Take it easy! Don't be an idiot!

12:30 (Mile 60)

Damn it! I've really got to pee!

12:45 (Mile 61)

Damn it! I've really got to pee ... again!

13:00 (Mile 62)

I'm staying well within myself, just floating down. I keep running into back of the packers on their way up. Those poor souls! These guys are over 12 hours into the race and still have around 60 miles to go. A lot look like zombies. I have nothing but respect for the ones who were able to gut it out through that wet night ... and the next ... battling many more hours of rain and nighttime than I had to deal with. I honestly can't imagine how difficult that would be.

13:15 (Mile 63)

Damn it! Why do I have to pee every friggin mile now ?! This is wasting so much time!

13:37 (Mile 65)

Seriously?! The aid station is RIGHT THERE! Why am I stopping to pee again?! This is THE WORST!

(This goes on roughly every 15 minutes for the rest of the race ... apparently in the cold, wet conditions I wasn't sweating out nearly as much water as I had expected. And despite dialing back my liquid intake, I had drifted into a frustrating realm of always-full bladder. I literally stopped 30 times in the final 40 miles.)

13:39 (Mile 65) -- North River Gap Aid Station

I roll into the North River Gap Aid Station. I nailed my descent time, but I'm more than 30 minutes off my planned pace. Who cares! I'm having fun and feeling great!

I've had enough of the Lone Peak insoles, so I swap them out for Pearl Izumi N1s. I even swap out my Injinji socks. I don't want to cuz they'd just get wet again, but I overhear Horton saying some dry socks would feel good, so I change my mind. I'm afraid they'll be a time suck but I miraculously get them off and on in no-time. And boy oh boy do they feel wonderful.

I am told 2 guys are no more than 10 minutes ahead of me and that I'm in 7th place ... maybe. I head out hoping I can catch them, but not dead-set on pushing the pace.

As I leave, I hear John's wife, Michelle, yelling. John's rolling in, only a couple minutes behind me. And he's picking up a pacer (cheater!). Is this going to turn into a drag race?!

North River Gap to Dowell's Draft

14:00 (Mile 67)

Knowing John is hot on my tail sparks the competitive juices. I'm not usually all that competitive, but at the moment my thoughts aren't awesome, we'll all run together and have fun, hooray! They're more like, if that S.O.B. passes me, I'ma be pissed!

I try pushing the pace. I'm working hard for the first time in over 40 miles.

... And then ...

I start to feel my hip. Not hurting, not stabbing, not causing problems. I'm just ... aware of it. Whenever I try running uphill I notice the slightest hint of irritation.

Enough racing for me!

At this point I say screw it, and vow to not push the pace. I'll run within myself the rest of the way. No drag racing, no hard efforts, just calm and collected running.

Afterwards, I ran no more than a couple dozen strides on the inclines for the rest of the race.

Never-the-less, I still hear John and his pacer right behind me. So I happily push the power hiking ... and whaddya know ... absolutely no hip irritation!

15:04 (Mile 71) -- Lookout Mountain Aid Station

I've pushed the pace power hiking and just as I'm getting to the Lookout Mountain Aid Station, I pass a runner. Awesome!

At the Aid Station I refill my bottles. Then proceed to head out.

But before I do, Bob Clouston stops me in my tracks and reminds me its nearly 9 miles to the next aid station ... with another couple miles of climbing.

I nod. In my head I'm thinking: So what?! It's mostly downhill and it's only gonna take me 90 minutes. I'm good to go!

He presses the matter again.  Geez, Bob, get out of my face! I don't say that, but I feel like saying it.

Here's the thing, when it gets to the tougher sections of a long race, I tend to get a bit pale. I also just want to hurry through aid stations ... I'm only there to fill up with water, I carry all the nutrition I need. Right now, the endless hours of rain aren't helping matters. When Aid Station workers -- especially veteran ones -- see someone like me -- looking pale, nonresponsive, hurrying through -- red flags pop up. Bob was just making sure I was okay, and I did a terrible job of communicating that I was fully prepared to tackle the next section of the course. I need to do a better job of looking happy at Aid Stations ... and communicating. You know what, that probably applies to life in general, but I digress ...

15:50 (Mile 74)

This climb is taking FOREVER!

Last year this climb back up Hankey was utterly miserable. I'm feeling good now, just starting to get tired ... feeling a bit like I've been racing for nearly 75 miles ...

I want to run some of the climb, but I've made a promise to myself. Operation Protect The Hip is in full swing.

16:39 (Mile 80) -- Dowell's Draft Aid Station

After I got to the top of Hankey Mountain, I began a steady, smooth descent into Dowell's Draft. I don't push the pace because I'm more concerned with assessing how my hip handles these descents. Luckily, my quads are feeling great.

I roll into the aid station and pass another runner who is hobbling noticeably. I tell him to stay strong but I'm silently ecstatic.

I spot Michelle, who's still waiting for John. I tell her I have no idea how far back he is.

At the Aid Station, I'm informed I'm in 5th place. Fifth Place! Holy Cow! Don't screw this up, Chris, you're in Fifth Freakin Place!

My wife helps me restock supplies. Horton is there again and tells me I need to eat something. I protest. He doesn't care. He thinks I'm looking pale. My wife agrees.

I relent and begrudgingly grab a couple hot potato wedges. As I head out, I throw them in my mouth ... and ... they're delicious. That was just what I needed! ... But I'm not gonna tell them that!

On my way out I hear a Whoop! Whoop! Either an overeager volunteer was cheering me on, or John was just now rolling in. I panic and speed off down the trail.

Dowell's Draft to The Finish

17:10 (Mile 82)

I somehow survived the tricky section between Dowell's Draft and HWY 250, but now I feel like I'm running through a tar pit along the creek bottom just before the Crawford Mountain ascent. It's a mile or 2 of slightly uphill running. After so many hours of running, the incline is just enough to make me want to walk. ... But John's right behind me! (maybe) So I stumble on, doing everything I can to keep from walking.

17:30 (Mile 83)

I'm at the steep stuff now. Man, this is exhausting! I turn around every couple of minutes, expecting John to be right there, effortlessly bounding, ready to take my Top 5 away from me. I desperately want to run a little, but it's also steep, and I'm tired, and Operation Protect The Hip, and I'm tired, and it's steep ... It's soo steep, why is it so steep?! WHY?!

17:50 (Mile 84)

The Top! Finally!

18:21 (Mile 87) -- Dry Gap Aid Station

I cruise down the descent, again, not pushing it too hard. Don't race, just cruise! Stay within yourself. Don't screw up your hip again!

My wife greets me. Says I'm looking better. Horton says I've "bounced back!" Man, he really must've wanted to count me out back at Dowell's!

Off I go! Only one more climb!

Fifth! Fifth! Fifth!

19:00 (Mile 89)

This climb is taking FOREVER!

Why are all of these rocks so unstable?! Someone should really do something about this! This is dangerous!

I'm so tired!

I don't care if John catches me. Good for him. He'll get 5th, I'll get 6th. No big deal. That jerk Clark Zealand probably only gives awards out to the Top 3 anyway, so it's not like 5th place even matters!

I'm not competitive, I'm not here to race, I just want to finish and keep my hip safe. I'm gonna get caught. I'm gonna get caught ... Seriously, why haven't I been caught yet?! Just pass me already!

19:30 (Mile 91)

This section is THE. WORST.

After climbing up Elliot's, you get to a relatively flat, but slightly uphill, section. It wraps around the edge of the mountain for at least a mile. And it's strewn with rocks. It sucks. It goes on forever. FOREVER! And whaddya know, it's even worse this year because the whole damn thing has been transformed into a flowing stream.

Why do I run? What's the point of all of this?!

19:41 (Mile 92)

Finally!

I get to the dirt road on Elliot's. Four miles of sweet, sweet downhills await!

I take off. Quads are feeling good!

19:53 (Mile 94)

I turn off of the steep road and onto single track. Man that was steep! But it felt waay better than last year!

I check my watch. It took me 12 minutes to cover those steep 1.75 downhill miles. What pace is that? ... Nevermind, too tired to do math ... Just keep falling down the mountain!

20:19 (Mile 96) -- Falls Hollow Aid Station

No time to stop now! Almost there! I bet John's right behind me.

This Aid Station is useless ...

21:00 (Mile 99)

If the section that skirts the top of Elliot's Knob at Mile 90 is the worst, this section near the Boy Scout Camp is runner-up.

Why are there so many hills?! I don't remember any of this!!!

Seriously, where the hell is the lake? Where is the Mile To Go marker? Where am I?

Please, please, please, don't let anyone pass me.

I'm running much easier than last year -- when I desperately tried (and failed) to get in under 24 hours. Now though, this doesn't feel so bad. ... If only I weren't so tired ...

21:15 (Mile 101)

I get to the lake. I turn around about a dozen times, expecting someone to be right behind me. No one there.

Okay. I'm done. Fifth Place!

21:19:56 (Mile 101.85)

I cross the finish line. Feeling strong. But also tired. ... And cold ... And wet. Seriously, I'm really cold and wet right now!

Fifth Place! That feels incredible!

(Too tired to hug the Totem Pole. Off camera: Horton entirely too entertained by my exhaustion.)

Afterward

So yeah, that pretty much covers it!

I went out there, had a blast in the rain, kept my hip in check, and miracled my way to a Top 5 finish. Andrew ended up 40 minutes ahead of me, and John ended up roughly 45 minutes behind me, so it's good to know that even if I'd pushed the pace or if I'd bonked, I would've likely ended up in 5th no matter what. I played it safe and Operation Protect The Hip was a success.

My second Grindstone was incredible! My strong showing is all the more meaningful given the lousy months I had after Western States trying to sort out my bum hip. But now, it looks like everything is healed and ready for the rest of the Beast Series. I still plan on taking it easy throughout the rest of the year, focusing mostly on recovery, stretching, and hiking. I just cannot afford to aggravate my hip again.

Did I mention I got 5th?! Seriously, how the hell did that happen? Also, turns out Clark isn't a total tightwad and does give out awards to the Top 5 ... more swag!

(Courtesy of Clark Zealand)

Thanks

I've got to give a shout out to my amazing wife for crewing me in downright miserable conditions. She was a trooper! I'm so lucky to have her supporting me through this ridiculous hobby of mine, through the training, and the racing, and the injury, and the complaining.

Thanks to my mother for flying in and watching the kiddo while her daddy abandoned her to go traipsing through the wilderness in the rain for an entire day.

Thanks to Clark Zealand for putting on yet another fantastic Grindstone. And a huge thanks to all of the volunteers who suffered through the rain alongside all of us runners.

Thanks to David Horton for randomly appearing at all of the Aid Stations and offering up support and sage advice ... even if it's generally laced with wit, sass, and sarcasm!

And finally, Thanks to all of you back-of-the-packers. I'm not gonna sugar coat it, you guys looked miserable out there! Watching the final handful of finishers Sunday morning, after 2 nights of traversing that difficult course, was so inspiring. I bow down to your dedication!

Epilogue

1 Hour After Race

This shower is soooo amazing. I'm never leaving, ever!

Oh my god! My toenails are hideous! Ten bucks says I loose seven of them.

4 Hours After Race

I'm in my hotel room. It's 7pm, and ... yup ... there goes my ability to regulate my body heat! Hooray!

Thankfully my wife made us get a hotel room. A great call considering I'd forgotten how miserable I was last year -- shivering and shaking for hours on end, my wife piling blankets on me in the tent to no effect.

Do I have the flu? I'm getting sick ... do I even have an immune system right now?

Why do I do this to myself? Is this worth it?

7 Hours After Race

I've been struggling to sleep because my big toenails are throbbing. I curse you, Altra insoles! ... Also, the rocks, I curse the rocks!

I have to pee. But I'm not sure I can get out of bed. Is this what it feels like to be 90?

2 Days After Race

I head to the National Arboretum with the family on a beautiful day. I "chase" my 2 year old around for a couple of minutes. I contemplating documenting that herculean effort on Strava.

Sleep! Sleep! Sleep! I need more sleep!

3 Days After Race

I just walked down a flight of stairs without having to hold onto a railing ... it's the little things in life!

4 Days After Race

I just jogged down 2 flights of stairs. I am superman!

I can't wait to run another 100 Miler!

5 Days After Race

Legs don't really hurt doing basic daily activities.

Physical Therapist is glad the hip held up. She gives me an easy hour of stretching and such. I try to balance on a Bosu ball. I get laughed at. We stick to the kind of workout an 80 year old invalid would do. When I get home, my body feels exhausted.

Gear List, Etc.

Shoes:

• Altra Lone Peak 3.0s -- would've been amazing if I had remembered to glue the damn insoles in
• Pearl Izumi Trail N1 V2s -- felt great but tight on pinky toes at end of race ... those nails are gonners!

Clothes:

• Patagonia shirt
• 2 Patagonia Houdini jackets
• Patagonia Strider Pro Shorts
• Injinji trail socks
• Salomon pack and Ultimate Direction bottles
• Petzl headlamp
• 2015 Grindstone Boco Trucker Hat (seriously, the best hat ever)

Nutrition:

• 20 Huma gels (2000 calories)
• 20 oz of EFS Liquid Shot (1700 calories)
• 1600 calories of Tailwind
• 12 oz ginger ale
• 2 delicious potato wedges

Fine