The Dam Yeti 50k
What do gravel trails, unicorns, trains, and fireball whiskey have in common? That’s right, Jessi and I were running the Dam Yeti 50k on the Virginia Creeper Trail. Making this race even sweeter is the fact that this was going to be Jessi’s first 50k, and she picked a great one. She was prepared and heat-adapted which was good, because the forecast was calling for a hot day. My parents and Jessi’s long time best friend, Ali, would be crewing us at aid stations and this was set to be their first ultramarathon experience.
All that was left for me to do was to sit back, keep Jessi moving throughout the day, and enjoy everyone’s reactions to the truly unique experience that is a Yeti trail race.
After a long ride from Alabama to Abingdon, VA, I was ready for a beer. Luckily, the Yeti tradition is to hold packet pickup at the Wolf Hills Brewery in Abingdon. We were greeted by my parents and Ali who had arrived some time before us. I was also greeted by an abundance of cold-faced, momentary stares. For this, I had no explanation. I had never met 99 % of these people and I was certainly not famous in the ultrarunning community. After getting our bibs and race swag, we sat down at a table to catch up, but I quickly felt a tap on my shoulder and was asked if I would take a picture with the race director, Jason Green. I happily agreed, not really understanding the request.
The race photographer, Jesse Kokotek, then came up to me and asked, “Do you know what’s going on?” In that second, I realized that, with my long blonde hair and backwards hat, I resembled Sean Blanton, a rather famous (or infamous) name in the ultrarunning community that is no longer welcome at Yeti races. For more info on that situation, just google him…
Jason came out of the Brewery and burst into laughter saying, “We replaced Sean with a kinder, gentler version.” That response evoked hysterical laughter from myself and I sat down to explain what was going on to everyone at my table. They were utterly clueless as to what had unfolded.
After the commotion, we drank our beers and headed up to Whitetop Mountain to find our log cabin Airbnb that was built during Thomas Jefferson’s presidency (not really, but damn it was old). We settled in for the night, knowing that we had an early wake up call but only a short drive to the start line at Green Cove Station.
Jessi had trouble sleeping, and that worried her. An elevated heart rate and an inability to sleep sent her into a further sleep-depriving panic of whether minimal or no sleep at all would affect her race tomorrow. I assured her that it was the cumulative sleep during the week leading up to the race that mattered most, not just the sleep the night before. I’m not sure if that helped, but we ended up only getting one or two hours of sleep that night. Less than ideal, but I knew we would have the energy to get through the race. After that, all bets were off. I threw a sleeping pad and pillow in the car for a finish line nap.
The next morning, my pre-race oatmeal and coffee was followed by a short trip to the starting line at Green Cove Station on the Creeper Trail. Jessi and I were among the first to arrive, and the lines for the two bathrooms were already growing long. Jessi got in line while I took some time to appreciate my first starting line since before the COVID-19 pandemic (15 months). The anticipation and excitement of everyone around me was palpable. There was no doubt that everyone there had suffered in some way over the past year. In that sense, the start of this race carried an extra dose of relief. The smiles just seemed to be a little wider and the mood seemed to be just a little bit lighter than other pre-pandemic races. I felt comfortable. I felt at home.
Taking in some good starting line vibes.
The minutes ticked by, and 7:00 am drew near. Meanwhile, Jessi was still standing in the bathroom line. I quietly went up to her and mentioned that I didn’t think she was going to make it to the bathroom in time, and that we should take a quick walk down to the woods.
Upon our return from tree-watering, Jason Green had jumped up on a rickety old railroad platform to give his traditional “don’t go left or right” speech. The Creeper Trail is a 33-mile trail that used to be a steam locomotive track. When the train ceased to run on those tracks, workers pulled out the rails and ties to turn the track into a running/walking/biking trail. Jason’s speech thus began with:
“Trains don’t go left or right. Neither do you…
50k runners go from here straight to the Wolf Hills Brewery, and 50 milers run to Abingdon, back to Alvarado, and then back to the Wolf Hills Brewery…
50 milers, you chose wrong…
But, this year, if you 50 milers get to Abingdon and it's just not your day, come on into the Brewery for a 50k finish. We’ve all had a long year of sitting alone at home and eating pints of ice cream.”
It was that speech, given in a deep southern accent, that reaffirmed my belief in Jason, the Yeti trail runners, and the ultrarunning community. From those simple, yet hilarious words, I knew that the point of this day and this race was to have fun. And we were off.
The first 15 miles of the race were all downhill. From my experience doing the Yeti 100 miler on this trail, I knew that most people went out way too fast and were likely to blow up somewhere past the Alvarado aid station on the final 7-mile climb to Abingdon. Sure enough, the first three miles of the run consisted of runners passing Jessi and me on their way down the hill to Abingdon, but I knew that we would see them again…
Jessi and me coming through Taylor Valley at mile 8
Those first 10 miles were tough for Jessi. She was tired and not used to running so early in the morning. That’s something that I should have thought of during her training cycle. The good news, though, is that the first 15 miles are very manageable. That section of the Creeper is a wide, relatively smooth path that winds down through the mountains with picturesque train trestle crossings and ample wildlife. Once the dense field of runners starts to spread out around mile 5, the beauty of this place allows itself to truly sink in.
I love running with Jessi. We see running very differently, though. Most notable amongst those differences is my isolationist attitude towards running contrasting with her love of the social aspects. That means that I don’t like to talk when we run, but she does. I am happy to listen, though. In fact, I love listening to her stories and conversation during our runs. It’s similar to the way that Forrest Gump did all of the talking while Jenny just listened when they went for their walks together. I learn a lot from Jessi on our runs. I learn about her day, her friends, and her life. I also get to see world events from a different perspective through her descriptions, and that is healthy and refreshing.
Upon our arrival in Damascus, Jessi was visually beginning to improve both physically, in terms of her running form, and mentally. This is the aspect of Jessi’s performance that impressed me the most during this race. She actually got stronger and more determined as the race went on. For reference, most people do the opposite. As people get fatigued during a long race such as this one. They begin to physically and mentally break down. As the temperatures rose into the mid-80s and the downhill portion of the race graded into a gentle climb, Jessi became more determined. She got stronger.
The Damascus aid station of any Yeti race is a great time. We were greeted at the aid station by my parents and Ali who had a change of clothes for Jessi. Changing from leggings to shorts is Jessi’s secret weapon. Like Ironman putting on his suit, changing into shorts makes Jessi unstoppable. For me that change of clothes meant that I had extra time to hang out at the aid station. This particular aid station was Dolly Parton themed, meaning that all of the volunteers were wearing plaid shirts, jean shorts, and blonde wigs. I was still being heckled for the Sean Blanton ordeal the night before, but it was an even trade for as many popsicles as I could eat while waiting for Jessi. Knowing that the course ahead was largely sun-exposed and uphill ahead, we topped off on water and started walking out of Damascus, on our way to the next aid station, which was Alvarado.
The miles started to go by quickly after leaving Damascus. As anticipated, we started to pass many of those runners that whizzed by us in the first few miles of the race. This was a hot section of the course. The intermittent areas of shade are punctuated by long stretches of trail in the direct sun. It can be a tough section of the course for those who are not heat-adapted. Luckily, Jessi had been doing her long runs mid-day over the past month, so she was ready. That type of training was most certainly a major part of her success during this race.
The Alvarado aid station is just as much fun as Damascus. Perhaps even more so due to the sheer number of spectators and individual runner crews. The aid station is situated at the end of a long parking lot at Alvarado station. That meant that, to get to the actual aid station, you have to run down a corridor of parked cars and spectators, all of whom inevitably cheer their heads off for you. It’s a much needed morale boost at a difficult spot in the race.
Jessi’s Alvarado aid station strategy was largely similar to that in Damascus, except this time, it was cold water poured over her head (her other secret weapon) instead of changing into shorts. We took our time at these aid stations purposefully. The extended stay allowed us to take in plenty of food and fluids while letting heart rates settle. Also, as I mentioned, these aid stations are a ton of fun, so why not. I’m not sure how my parents felt about the aid station volunteer in a rainbow speedo, but I thought it was hilarious; exactly what I was hoping they would experience at their first ultra.
We opted to walk for a few minutes after Alvarado. These last nine miles to Damascus were going to be tough in a “death by a thousand cuts” kind of way. The uphill grade is about 2 %, which sounds manageable and gentle until you’ve been on that climb for a full 10k with more to go. There are also several short exposed sections which inevitably make this section of the race an unravelling point for many people. Jessi and I opted to back off of the pace a bit in order to keep our effort under control and to ensure that we made it to Abingdon without crumbling on the side of the trail between here and there.
Jessi and I crossing one of the final train trestles along the Creeper (there are 45 in total).
I managed to convince Jessi to take a few walk breaks. These are almost a necessity on this portion of the route, but the issue is running again after your stop. The transition from running to walking feels great initially. The slower pace feels seductive and you become convinced that it’s OK to keep walking indefinitely, but you have to start running again. That transition is a painful but necessary one. Increasing your walking pace before the transition back to a run helps, but only so much. We were nearing the marathon distance at this point and we were both feeling the ~6+ hours on our feet. As we neared Abingdon at the 29 mile marker, I started to realize that we could make it to the finish line in under 7 hours if we could only keep a steady pace with no more walk breaks. I voiced this idea to Jessi. It was met with a few groans and a nervous “OK,”but I knew she had a few strong miles still in her.
Leaving the gravel trail was a relief after 30 miles. The last mile was on a paved road, but there was absolutely no shade or protection from the midday sun and the near 90-degree temperatures. As we neared the finish line, I repeated to Jessi that we could make it in under 7 hours if we kept our current pace. It was immediately after that reaffirmation that I heard a train whistle behind us. I looked to my left to see the train tracks between us and the finish line and I suddenly became less certain of our 7hour goal.
Jessi, myself, and two other runners came to a halt only 20 feet from the finish line, a speeding freight train in front of us, at 6 hours and 54 minutes. The scene was one I’ll never forget. The crowd at the finish line erupted in cheers and laughter, as did I. The race photographer was lying on his stomach, taking pictures of us from the other side of the train, and the finish line DJ was on the loudspeaker yelling something that was inaudible on our side of the train. The train finally passed at 6:58 and we all made a mad dash for the finish line, accomplishing our goal of a sub-7 hour finish. It was the most excitement and love that I’d ever felt at a finish line.
Stuck behind the train only a few feet from the finish line.
Released from it’s grip!
The race ended at the Wolf Hills Brewery, and my post-race beer was accompanied by a sense of relief and pride that was unique for me. My personal goals for this race were to get Jessi to the finish line and to have some fun along the way. That was about it. When I finally sat down in the Wolf hills brewery, blueberry sour in hand, finishers medal around my neck, I was relieved. I met my goal, and I was so damn proud of my tough and beautiful lady for conquering the day.
All photos in this blog were taken by Jesse Kokotek (@jessekokotek). Go follow him, buy a print, hire him to shoot your event, etc. He is a phenomenal photographer.