I know... I know... I said I wouldn't run another road 100 any time soon. But I couldn't let a failed Manitou's Revenge 100 be my last adventure of the year could I?
After recovering from Manitou's, I struggled to find the motivation to keep training during a sweltering summer and fall with no races. Complicating things further, in October Alex and I bought a beautiful little house near our old home towns. It's a wonderful place, and I'm thrilled with our decision, but it meant that my free time was suddenly occupied by Lowes runs instead of training runs. After successfully avoiding most adult responsibilities until well into my 30's, I was now consumed by them. Yuck.
As the holidays rolled around, I pondered how to squeeze one last adventure into the truly bizarre year that was our 2020. Then I thought back to a bike race that my friend Tim had told me about a few years prior. It was a burly century ride (100 miles) around Warren, Hunterdon, and Morris Counties called Hillier Than Thou, which went out of its way to find the toughest paved climbs and descents in the region.
A quick glance at the course map revealed that it made a giant loop around our new home town while passing by some notable landmarks from our childhood (more on those later). Access to aid would be plentiful. Bail out options were simple. And I wouldn't have to contend with potentially snowy trails. With Alex and myself both off work between Christmas and New Year's Day, a plan was hatched.
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| 103 miles with 13,000 feet of gain |
Jogging Down Memory Lane (Miles 0-22)
We arrived at the Point Mountain trail head at 7pm on a Tuesday night. I chose a night time start because my goal was to jog this bitch in a "leisurely" 22 hours. Starting just after sunset would get all of that pesky sullen night running out of the way while I was still fresh as a daisy. That was the plan, anyway.
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| I find myself making this gesture a lot at the start of races, and I think it sums up my motivations pretty well. |
After a few pictures and some fussing around with my headlamp and reflective vest, I jogged off into the night.
Half a mile into my run, I passed by Mansfield Elementary School, which I attended from 2nd to 6th grade. Out of sight behind it was the quarter mile gravel track where we had our daily "Walk Jog Run," a 15-minute period before lunch during which we ran as many laps as possible. We were only required to do 3, but I always liked to push hard and see if I could run 6, 7, or on very rare occasions, 8 laps. Little did I know that over 20 years later, I would spend my free time running the equivalent of 400+ laps at a time.
A mile later, the first real climb of the day began. Hoffman Road was the site of my family's old house, where I lived from 7th grade through the end of college. At only 900 feet, it had always seemed like a towering behemoth of a mountain, especially when I was driving my ratty 97 Kia Sephia down it in the snow with a learner's permit (RIP neighbors' mailboxes). I had also spent hours on end thrashing through the woods on that mountain in search of wild raspberries during the summer, which would turn out to be excellent preparation for races like the Barkley Fall Classic many years later. I gave our old house a little wave as I passed by.
I took the descent cautiously, trying to ease my woefully undertrained quads into the effort that they were about to undertake. I made a left onto Jackson Valley Road, following the route that I took to high school each morning, usually running late. After a few miles of rolling hills through cornfields, I arrived at Warren Hills High School. I remembered the time I ran to marching band practice from home on a summer day because I couldn't get a ride. My sheet music was soaked through with sweat by the time I arrived, but I had felt like the biggest badass in the world. The total distance I'd covered that day was four miles.
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| Chowing down on fresh gingerbread at WHRHS. Sexy. |
Alex, my mom, and Alex's mom Julie were all waiting for me with snacks and other supplies. Tim, who you'll recall was the inspiration for this run, came out to pace me for the next couple of climbs since he lived down the road (and at this point it was still a normal time for a human being to go out running). Together we climbed Mine Hill Road into the town of Oxford. Sixteen years prior, I had driven to Oxford in snow storm to kiss a pretty girl from study hall. That pretty girl's name was Alex, and these days I get to kiss her pretty regularly. I like to think that young Ryan would be very proud of adult Ryan.
We made a hard left and climbed back out of Oxford on Jonestown Road, passing by the entrance of Oxford Lake where I have spent countless summer days over the years. Another quick climb and descent brought us careening down Harmony-Brass Castle Road, a road which that old Kia Sephia was always struggled to climb when I visited my best friend John in high school. Thankfully having a cool car was not a prerequisite for dating 18-year-old Alex back then. Neither was having a functional car, as I would later learn (RIP Kia Sephia).
I turned off into Meadowbreeze Park and Tim continued on straight to head back to his car. I found myself passing by the peewee football fields where my friends and I played ultimate frisbee after school. Somewhere I still have the old cotton t-shirts we designed with the creative-as-heck name of our league: Ultimate Frisbee League. I would go on to play ultimate for five years in college and grad school, and I credit those multi-day frisbee tournaments for seasoning my legs for ultramarathons. Sure, climbing a hill at mile 80 is tough, but try playing defense with a hangover and blown quads from five games the previous day.
A short but steep climb up Coleman Hill Road gave way to an equally steep descent down Halfway House Road, which despite the name has some gorgeous old stone houses (and a mailbox shaped like a deer that scared the holy hell out of me). This brought me down to Route 57 and the aid station at Villa Roller Rink, where all the cool kids used to have their birthday parties. Come to think of it, I never had a birthday party there for some reason.
Moving on...
After a mile on Rt. 57 I turned up onto Millbrook Road, where Alex and I looked at a few houses earlier in the year. It's a pretty little wooded road and we were disappointed that we couldn't afford the 250-year-old farmhouse that we toured. But more pertinent to this story, Millbrook Road was the longest climb on the course, rising almost 1,000 feet over four miles. Yes, it turns out that NJ actually has a few 1,000 foot climbs.
I settled into an easy jogging pace and enjoyed the moonlit scenery as I slowly reached the high point on the course: Montana Mountain at a whopping 1,223 feet (humor me, okay?). I was greeted by sprawling cornfields at the top, and they offered little resistance to the swirling winter wind. It was downright chilly, but I distracted myself by turning off my headlamp and running by the unobstructed light of the full moon directly overhead.
The Steepening (Miles 22-59)
Now at almost midnight, I was joined by Alex for the perhaps most difficult five mile section of the course. She greeted me enthusiastically through multiple layers of hoods and buffs, and we took off on the descent down Castner's Road. We plummeted downhill for several miles, losing every bit of the elevation that I had spent the last hour gaining. Then after a mile of flat running on Rt. 519, we began the steepest climb of the day: Fiddler's Elbow.
Compared to the trails that I regularly train on, a 528' climb in 0.76 miles isn't particularly heinous, but it should give you an appreciation for the determination of early east coast settlers. Those crazy bastards were willing to build a road on just about any damn hill they pleased. And apparently they didn't care much for switchbacks. Having run this section on a recon mission a few days earlier, I was beyond grateful to have Alex's company. Mostly just so I could say to someone "Can you believe how steep this friggin' hill is?!"
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| Hiking selfie from Fiddler's Elbow |
70 minutes after Alex had joined me, we were back at her car and it was time for her to get some warm dry clothes on. After a final kiss (see, I told you I get to smooch her up all the time!), it was time to run some easy miles for the first time in a few hours. The descent into Harmony was four straight downhill miles at a moderate grade, which felt amazing after some of the quad busting descents from earlier. I made good time on this section, keeping to a conservative 10:30/mi.
The descent ended all too quickly as I found myself at the base of Wester Road, which is deceptively steep at 463' in just 0.83mi. I hiked the entire thing and then continued hiking up Fox Farm Road to the west entrance of Merrill Creek Reservoir, where a much warmer Alex was waiting for me. It was chilly near the water so I moved along quickly. After some rolling hills and a leisurely descent, I once again found my crew on the side of Rt. 57, this time at a gas station. The buzzing neon lights overhead were a bit jarring after running through the wilderness for so long, but I was thankful to be off the mountain and out of the wind.
The next section would have been unremarkable if not for a flock of snow geese that had settled in a nearby field. For those of you who are unfamiliar with these birds, they are solid white except for black patches at the tips of their wings, and in the winter they migrate to parts of the US in flocks numbering in the thousands. So even though it was pitch black out side, I could tell I was near a flock because of the sheer volume of honking. The experience sounded something like this:
"HONKA HONKA HONKA HONK--"
*a house briefly blocking the noise*
"--AHONKA HONKA HONKA HONK--"
And so on for about a mile. Don't let anyone tell you that NJ doesn't have wildlife.
Anyway, I made quick work of the climb and descent of Mountainview Road, which the name suggests, has absolutely no views if you're running on it at 4am. This led to a two mile stretch on Asbury-Bloomsbury Road, which is part of my daily commute home from work. Home field advantage, baby! Incidentally, I find a lot of the the road names in this region to be pretty unimaginative. They typically just tell you which two towns are being connected, which I guess was useful in the days before Google Maps. "Heya Jimbob, how do I get to Bloomsbury?" "Well, yer in Asbury right now, so you might could take Asbury-Bloomsbury Road down a ways. When you git to the end of it, then I reckon you'll be in Bloomsbury." I'm not sure why these hypothetical past New Jerseyans speak like Old West prospectors in my imagination.
But I digress.
After passing through Asbury, I reached my crew at the base of Iron Bridge Road. I first "discovered" this monster of a hill on a training run with Andrew and Scott, whom you'll meet later on. Scott had specifically requested a flat recovery run, so we took a detour from our usual hilly route down some local roads at Andrew's suggestion. We turned a corner and before we knew it we were half way up a 500 foot climb. Scott has never quite forgiven us since that day. Now at mile 47 and feeling every one of those miles, I knew that I would need a little extra courage to conquer this hill. With a toast to my fearless crew, I downed a mini bottle of fireball.
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| It's 5 o'clock (a.m.) somewhere! (Alex came up with that joke first, but I'm gonna steal it.) |
With a fire in my belly and cinnamon on my breath, I hunkered down and hiked up all 500 feet of Iron Bridge Road. My pit stop had lasted long enough that my fingers were going numb, so I put a little extra effort into it to get my blood flowing again. I was rewarded for my efforts with a few more easy downhill miles, but my quads let me know with each step that they were unhappy with the way I was treating them.
An unremarkable climb and descent brought me to Hot Rod's Hot Dogs on Rt. 31. It was 6:30am and my buddy Scott was waiting to get in his morning run with me. Just days before, Scott had also agreed to run an eggnog mile with me and Tim, which proves that he's the kind of friend who will gladly jump off a bridge with you if you ask him nicely enough. Thanks for enabling all my crazy ideas, Scott!
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| Two hot dudes at Hot Rod's Hot Dogs. ...I'm very sorry I wrote that. |
With my new pacer in tow, I hobbled away from Hot Rod's. My legs were now well and truly rebelling, which is not something I wanted to admit to myself with 50 miles left in this run. I knew I was going to finish, but boy did that finish line seem far away at this moment. I really should have done a training run. Maybe two training runs. Live and learn, kids.
Thankfully Scott is good company, and he was extraordinarily patient as I found increasingly inane reasons to stop running. First I wanted to check a map, which is not a terrible reason. Then I had to adjust my pack. Then my gloves. Then my gloves again. You know what, fuck it, let's go ahead and adjust those gloves one more time just for good measure.
I was clearly stalling.
Despite my best efforts, we made reasonably good time through this five mile section until we hit Scott's turnaround point at the intersection of the Columbia Trail and Hoffman's Crossing. Here we found my loyal crew sound asleep in their cars. I tapped on the window of our SUV and a bleary-eyed Alex sat up and took a second to come back online. She was apologetic, but I was happy to have another excuse to stop running.
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| Take your time. No, seriously. |
Mama Always Said Weird is as Weird Does (Miles 59-76)
The sun was up and I was alone with my thoughts again. Time for my two favorite pastimes: weird intrusive thoughts and existential dread!
The dread part was first. Despite the common wisdom that sunrise will breathe new life into a weary ultrarunner, I had now been awake for 24 hours and I was starting to feel the repercussions. I found myself doing long blinks and then opening my eyes to find that I was walking down the middle of the road. What the hell was I doing with my life? I could have been inside eating Christmas leftovers between naps. (This is all pretty standard ultrarunner internal monologue.)
My spirits were lifted, if not a bit unnerved, by a woman who drove by and shouted:
"This is God's country!"
I paused for a moment. Was she reprimanding me for that pee break I took a few minutes earlier? Or for snot rocketing during a pandemic? Or for picking my wedgie? Wow, ultrarunning is extraordinarily disgusting.
"It's so beautiful out here. I love driving through this area. Truly God's country." she elaborated.
Ah, so that was meant as a positive comment.
"Yes," I concurred, "it's a great area to run." (I was clearly walking, but that was a nice thought, wasn't it?)
She drove away, but that brief interaction had started to change my mindset a little bit. I reminded myself to look around and enjoy the views of pastures and the sound of the songbirds. God's country. Maybe Cthulu's country too. Either way, very scenic.
My spirits were further lifted when I got to the next aid station and Alex was blasting Guns and Ships from Hamilton. We've both grown quite proficient at doing Lafayette's legendary double-time rap, and that's exactly what we did, loudly, in the middle of sleepy little Mountainville at 9am on a Wednesday morning. Rise and shine, everyone! We're taking this horse by the reins!
Slowly but surely, the clouds were starting to part, both metaphorically and literally. Running in actual sunshine was lovely, and I picked up the pace accordingly. I turned onto Bissel Road, which I've passed many times before. The name Bissel always sounded like something out of Snoop Dogg's vocabulary, except if he were German. So to commemorate this turn, I shouted loudly and to no one in particular, "Ja, for shissel mein Bissel!" Minutes later, I passed a donkey standing in a field and greeted it with a merry "Hee Haaaww!"
Life was good.
Life got even better when Alex appeared at the next aid stop with a hot coffee and an everything bagel. Gentlemen, find yourself a woman who knows how to procure an everything bagel at a moment's notice. This was heavenly, and I allowed myself to walk the entire next mile while savoring a hot breakfast.
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| Bagel + coffee = happy runner |
Incidentally, that mile was along Hill and Dale Road, which is just adorable.
Okay, enough breakfast. Let's get back to work.
My head was in a good space, but my legs were no more cooperative than before. I was barely able to hold a 13:00/mi pace on downhills, and the uphill miles were certainly no better. But I'm no stranger to walking in the latter half of a race and I was prepared to muscle through it.
Fatigue Loves Company (Miles 76-103)
My mom and her friend Beth were able to jump in for this next section, and it was looking like I might have company for the rest of the run! The two of them have been doing long distance virtual races since the pandemic started and have logged hundreds of miles in pursuit of those goals. So in a way I was also pacing their virtual race. You're welcome, ladies.
We hobbled down Cold Springs Road together, enjoying the scenery and the moderate grade. A few turns later we found the corresponding 500' climb up Hollow Brook Road, and we all got to commiserate about how steep these roads were. Never underestimate the power of having someone to complain to.
Back at the top Beth called it a day and my mom decided to stick around for another descent and climb. After a quick sock change (my first of the day at mile 81), we made our way down the shoulder of Rt. 512. At around 15:00/mi, my downhill pace was starting to be almost indistinguishable from my uphill pace. Once again I would like to emphasize that I really should have trained for this. We turned onto Black River Road and had a leisurely mile alongside the Lamington River. Then it was time for - you guessed it - another steep climb!
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| Walking and talking with my mom |
My mom is never at a loss for words, which was fantastic because I needed someone to distract me from the rebellion that my body was staging. I could occasionally convince my legs to run for a few minutes at a time, but my feeble little steps meant that I was running at a walking pace. The perk of me being the only competitor was that no one passed me here. So that's something. Silver linings and whatnot.
We reached the top of the climb and my mom's pacing duties were done after almost 14 miles and 3.5 hours. Thanks mom!
We were now 14 more miles from the finish line and Andrew was waiting to take me the rest of the way. We started with a few downhill miles, and I probably got his hopes up by cobbling together some 13 minute miles. This wouldn't last long.
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| Last pacer of the day! |
We were in Long Valley and needed to get back to Mansfield where I had started the previous day. As you might expect from the theme of this route, there is a long mountain chain that separates these two towns. The most common route between them is Schooley's Mountain Road, which is infamous for being one of the most dangerous roads in the state. But slightly southwest from there is a lesser known and similarly steep route called Middle Valley Road. At about 500 feet in a mile, it's not the steepest climb on the course, but the fact that it's at mile 94 makes it exponentially harder than the ones before it.
We absolutely crawled up this hill, netting my first 20+ minute mile split since Iron Bridge Road. But we eventually crested the summit and had a couple flat miles to regroup for the descent down Stephensburg Road, a detour thrown in purely to add elevation gain to an already hilly route. My quads were shredded. I probably could have walked faster than the pitiful 16:00/mi trot that I managed for the this descent. Andrew was a good sport thankfully.
At the bottom of the hill, we were finally left with the last climb and descent of the route. Just 400 vertical feet separated me from the Mount Lebanon ridge, and from there a 400 foot descent to the finish. The sun had set and I was once again running through the dark. So much for getting all the night running out of the way early!
Mercifully, the entire climb was done in the span of a mile. My watch beeped and displayed 99 miles elapsed. I considered doing just one more mile and then calling it quits. After all, I was free to define this adventure any way I wished, and 100 miles was a nice round number. But there were still four miles left to complete the full loop, and momma didn't raise no quitter!
We walk-shuffled along Mount Lebanon Road in silence. In the distance I spotted headlights. Was this an impromptu crew stop? Had Alex driven out to pace me? Nope, some friends of Alex's had heard about my run and came out to cheer me on in a 20 degree night. How cool is that?
At long last, we made the final turn onto Point Mountain Road. Alex had run up to meet us there, and she informed me that there were two miles left to run. I told her that I wanted that it to be much less than two miles and that I was very disappointed in her for telling me otherwise. She was unmoved by my pleas.
I debated whether to hammer this last descent, as I so often do, but decided that my legs had already suffered enough. Plus there was black ice all over the road and the thought of slipping and faceplanting this close to the finish was not appealing. So we jogged along and I attempted to tell them both, in between gasps for air, how thankful I was for their support.
As the finish came into view, I gave a final burst of speed (read: 9:00/mi), and hugged the Point Mountain sign after 23 hours and 39 minutes.
Adventure accomplished.
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| Chilling with a victory beer |
Thanks!
It never ceases to amaze me how lucky I am to have family and friends who support these strange challenges that I design for myself. Alex and my mom followed me through the entire loop, spending 24 hours straight driving, running, and sleeping in 15 minute increments in the back of their cars. And because they're responsible adults during a global pandemic, they did this all in separate cars. I love and appreciate you both more than I can express. Alex's mom Julie also tagged along for the first and last few hours of the adventure, which was fun for me and great company for the main crew.
Tim, Scott, Beth, and Andrew provided valuable company and navigational help during crucial moments of the run. I had anticipated doing this entire run solo because I couldn't imagine convincing other people to come run in the dark and freezing cold. Thank you all for your support!
Final stats:
23:39:01
102.89 miles
13,070 feet of elevation
Unofficially my 11th 100+ mile race.
