If a roller coaster of a training cycle ever existed for a race, this was it. Training for the Yeti 100 mile endurance run was composed of recovering from a nasty bout of IT band syndrome and not running for the first three months of 2019, and then setting a 5k PR on July 3rd, and finally spending all of August on gym equipment doing 2-3 hour-long cardio workouts because I came down with another bout of IT band syndrome in my opposite knee. Needless to say, this training cycle tested me physically and mentally. I honestly do not think that I would have made it to the start line without the help of coach Dave. One of the most cool-headed individuals on this planet, I would go to Dave with a setback or new injury update, and he would calmly assure me that we had this and adjust my training accordingly. To supplement long runs in the absence of any ability to run, I was going to the UTK rec center and spending 2, 3, and even sometimes 4 hours going from stationary bike to elliptical, to stair stepper, and back to the stationary bike. The TRECs staff was not amused by the puddles of sweat that I was producing around their once sparkling clean equipment.

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Around the middle of September, after a month of IT band issues, the pain began to subside, and Dave was able to convince me that a sub-24 hour finish at the Yeti 100 was still within reach. The week leading up to the race was a strange one for me. Whereas I would normally be a stress ball oozing anxiety before a race like this, this time I was oddly calm; almost satisfied and pleased that I had made it to the start line at all. The hard work was done. All I had to do now was run.

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Jessi (my beloved and Yeti crew captain) and I went straight to the Wolf Hills Brewery upon arriving in Abingdon before checking in to our Aribnb in Damascus. Wolf Hills was hosting the packet pickup and it was pretty much everything that you would expect from a Yeti Trail Runners race. Some folks in unicorn costumes, some in pink tutu’s. I walked in the front door and was greeted by a display of the medals that I would be receiving if I 1) finished the race, and 2) finished under 24 hours. This was the point where I learned that Jason Greene’s (the RD and fearless leader of the Yeti Trail Runners) “shot calling” practice for the sub-24 buckles was kind of bullshit. The premise was that in order to receive one of the sub-24 buckles, you had to tell him that you were going to finish in under 24 hours and then you had to actually do it. Turns out that was just a fun little bit of mental trickery formulated by Jason to mess with some of the more elite race participants. Note that I did not call my shot and was pretty happy with this news. I went on to receive my bib, the pacer bib for Carter (my pacer to be), race shirt, pre-ordered hoodie, and my skateboard. Yes, I said skateboard….

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When I arrived at our Airbnb in Damascus, Dave and Kim had already arrived and unpacked. Dave would be running the race and his wife, Kim, would be crewing him. Dave and I immediately started comparing nutrition plans for the next day and talking gear strategies. It was going to be hot for most of the race day; in the 90s with little cloud cover. Luckily most of the Virginia Creeper trail where the race would be taking place was wooded with tree cover except for a few stretches around Damascus.

The Creeper is a 33-mile railroad bed trail that stretches from Abingdon, VA to Whitetop Mtn. The Yeti 100 follows that trail and is essentially and out-back-and-out on the trail from Whitetop to Abingdon, and then back to Whitetop and back to Abingdon again. That means that we would start the race with an 18-mile downhill and then run ~2000 ft back up that hill on our way back to Abingdon. It’s a good one for the quads.

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Dave and I decided that a bladder in my vaporkrar hydration vest would be ideal and salt tabs would be a necessity in the heat. I would have one drop bag at the Damascus aid station that I would dip into three times during the race. Each time I would refill on canaberry, hill aid, and speednut spring energy gels and get some solid food from Jessi. She would be meeting me at Damascus each time that I went through that aid station (miles 18, 49, and 85), in Abingdon the first time (mile 33), and at Green Cove the second and third times that I went through that aid station (miles 64 and 70). At each of these stops, she was going to have a cooler containing ramen noodles, potato soup, fresh berries, and some canned pears. Once the nutrition and crew plan was finalized, Dave and I set out all of the gear that we would be starting the race with and then it was off to sleep to get a few hours of sleep before our 5 am wake-up call. 

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When I rolled out of bed the next morning, the pre-race jitters still hadn’t really set in. I walked up the stairs to see Dave already gearing up and getting ready. We all hopped into Jessi’s car for the ride up to Whitetop from Damascus. Even though there was a shuttle from Abingdon to the start, we opted to drive. That gave us a little more time in the morning to prep before leaving. We ended up needing that extra time, however, and we made it up the VERY windy and nausea-inducing road to whitetop just as Jason Green was calling runners up to the start line for the pre-race briefing.

Jason’s speech was one of the best I have heard. 

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“Trains don’t make lefts or rights!” he said referring to the fact that the Creeper trail is a former railroad bed. “Don’t make a left or a right! We’ve had one person get lost on this course...used to be zero” he continued. 

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“Somehow, every year, 10-year-old girls get on bikes at Whitetop and end up in Abingdon. You can do this!” He finished with a caution about going too fast in the first 50k (a warning that I wish I had heeded), and we were off. I took Dave’s advice to walk the first mile and enjoy the race atmosphere and the fact that we were about to embark on a journey that few would ever complete or even attempt. After that initial mile, I started the run-walk that I promised myself I would stick to. 5 minutes running, 2 minutes walking. I kept the runs around an 8:30-minute pace and the walks around a 15-minute pace. That evened out to about a 10-minute pace. I wanted to hold that pace for the first 33 miles and then re-evaluate once I got to Abingdon for the first time. 

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I initially took off ahead of Dave on my first run knowing full-well that he would be catching me soon. He did. Around mile 3. Once Dave passed me, I caught up with Rich and Donna Cunningham around mile 5. Knoxville locals and Yeti veterans. They are about the nicest folks that the running community has to offer. We exchanged encouraging words and I was off again on another run interval. At this point, the pack was starting to thin out a bit and I could truly start to focus on myself and the day ahead. I enjoyed those first 15 miles. Mostly, they were filled with gratitude. I felt grateful that I had made it to this day and that I was capable of doing this. The stretch of the creeper between Whitetop and Abingdon is also the most beautiful in my opinion. The path traverses down through a heavily wooded area along a crystal clear stream. The timing probably wouldn’t line up, but I thought that if I came by that stream in a hotter portion of the day, I might just take a mid-race dip. Taylors Valley is a serene meadow smack in the middle of that wooded area where Jason had posted the first race photographer. I hit him with a heel click and kept moving. I was having fun. 

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I saw Jessi and Kim for the first time in Damascus at mile 15. I rummaged through my drop bag to get the pre-packed gels that I would consume over the next 18 miles, I put a bit of voltaren gel (anti-inflammatory) on my IT band (it wasn’t painful yet, but I could tell that it was starting to get tight), I grabbed the sunshade for around my head and neck, and I was on my way. The next few miles out of Damascus were fairly exposed. This is where I could tell that it was starting to get warm out. Good thing the mystery Pepsi machine was out of Fireball, or I probably would have been tempted…(if you know, you know). 

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I was still holding my 10:00-minute pace at this point and feeling relatively strong. My IT band continued to tighten until around the marathon point, and then it plateaued. Nice! I said to myself. One less thing to worry about now. One thing that I regret about the run/walk technique is the lack of social interaction that it leads to. You end up having these short two-to-three minute conversations along the course and then you are on your next interval. That lead to a few, short “How are your feeling”s and “Where are you from’s”, but I never had the chance to truly engage with the community and other runners; something that I intend to change during my next runnable hundred. 

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“I want to cut bread on your calves” is what I heard from behind me at mile 28. I  turned around to see a bearded guy wearing an American flag, sequenced shirt and cowboy hat, and blue ranger panties. This guy turned out to be Phil Pinti (or @machomanrunneth as he is referred to on his socials). After the race, I came to find out that he is a pretty inspiring character. If you get a chance, go listen to the “yeti and the macho man” podcast on the east coast trail and ultra podcast. 

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I passed Dave going the opposite direction at mile 32 just before seeing Jessi at Abingdon. He was already on his way back to Abingdon. We high fived, told each other how good we were feeling, and we kept moving. When I got into Abingdon, I immediately reached for the fresh berries in my food cooler. My mouth was starting to sour and I needed something fresh to eat. I was feeling the subtle 7-ish mile climb from Alvarado station to Abingdon, and I knew that I needed to slow down a bit. I told Jessi that I was going to drop down to a 5-minute run/3-minute walk, and we adjusted my arrival time back in Damascus accordingly. As I took off back down towards Alvarado, I remember thinking that I came through the 50k mark just under my PR and if I kept this new pace, I would be setting a 2-hour 50-mile PR… That thought concerned me for a minute and I pressed on.

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At about mile 38, I really started to feel the heat and my legs were starting to wear down. I came into the Alvarado aid station and was elated to see a cooler full of ice for the taking. When I asked to put some in the compression shorts that I was wearing, they hesitated...

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“As long as you don’t put your hands back in the ice cooler afterward, it's all good,” they said. 

I was happy to hear that, and after a hummus quesadilla, I proceeded towards the exposed section of the trail before Damascus. This is when the calf cramps started. Up until this point, I had been taking a sip of water from my bladder every mile, one gel every four miles, and one salt tab every 2 hours. Apparently, something wasn’t working with that formula, and my calves started to seize up. First the left, and then the right, but only when I was running. I wasn’t sure if I was taking in too little water or too little salt, so I upped my intake of both. I was sucking down water and popping salt tabs like tic-tacs. I was running until the cramps started, and then walking until they went away, and then I would repeat that sequence. That got me to Damascus where I took a few minutes to regroup and stock back up on gels and salt tabs. At this point, I knew there was only an hour or two of daylight left, and I figured that the cramps would go away once the temps cooled off. I knew the 18-hour pace that I had planned was too ambitious at this point. I needed to slow down or I wasn’t going to make it to 100. I told Jessi to take her time getting to Green Cove where I would see her and Carter at mile 64, but I wouldn’t pick up Carter as my pacer until I came back through green cove at mile 70. I told her that I was planning to do a good bit of hiking up to Green Cove and slow my pace way down. I walked out of Damasus with the intention of giving myself a 10-12 minute walk break and that's exactly what I did. 

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I was glad to feel the calf cramps slowly fading as the next few miles clicked off, but a new problem arose. This was a different pain. One I had never felt before. On the inside of my left knee, pressure was building with every run interval, but alas, I could power-hike pain-free! At this point, it was about 4 minutes running and 4 minutes walking. The pain in my knee continued to intensify until I stopped at the Taylors Valley aid station at mile 58. I met up with several other guys that were having similar days. We all agreed that we went out way too hard, and we were feeling the effects. There was almost a relief that we all shared knowing that we weren’t the only idiots who did the exact thing we said we weren’t going to do and that Jason Green promised us we would probably do anyways. We all split up shortly after leaving that aid station and my knee pain started to intensify yet again. It was only a mile or two later when the knee pain wasn’t even allowing me to run for 30 seconds. This was bad.

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I had the pity party of all pity parties. I cried knowing that my race was over and that I was going to have to pull the plug at mile 66 because I had basically run myself to death, but then I had one of those weird AH-HA moments and I started doing math…

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I realized that I could still walk at a sub-15 minute pace. That’s four miles-per-hour. I had about 34 miles to go which equates to about 9 hours. I looked down at my watch...7:30 pm. That means that I could finish by...8...9...10...11…….5 AM!...Holy shit!!! I could hike this thing in and finish in under 22 hours!!!

I cannot really explain to you the joy that this realization brought to me. I was instantly amped and I knew right then and there that I was going to finish my first 100 miler. I started yelling at myself (no one was around and I was in the middle of the mountains. Who cares.)

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“I GOT THIS!!!”

“NOT QUITTIN’ THIS F***IN’ RACE!!!

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You get the idea. This changed the entire demeanor. It was like a brand new race. I just had to break the news that I was about to walk 35 miles to Carter and Jessi when I saw them at mile 64 at Green Cove. I rolled into that aid station in a pretty good attitude. 

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“I have good news and bad news,” I said to Carter. “The bad news is that I can’t run anymore, but the good news is that I can walk this thing in under 24 hours. It’s going to be a long night, but are you cool with walking 30 miles with me?” I asked. 

 

“Absolutely man.” He didn’t even hesitate.

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It would be another 6 miles before I would pick him up as a pacer, however. I had to hike three miles up to whitetop and then three miles back down to Green Cove. The darkness was really starting to set in now so I grabbed my headlamp from my drop bag, put down a few gulps of potato soup, and left the aid station only to see Dave coming back down from Whitetop a few hundred yards up the trail. “I would recognize that gait anywhere,” I told myself. He was the first to break the silence saying that his IT band was bugging him (oh the irony). I followed by telling him that my knee was shot and that my running was over. This was all in a positive tone, however. Almost like it didn’t matter. And it didn’t, really. I could tell in his voice that he had this thing licked just as I’m sure he could tell that I wasn’t going to quit. 

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As I kept moving towards Whitetop, the darkness closed in and in the light of my headlamp, I saw a giant gold nugget sparkling in the hillside. It was like something you would see in a cartoon. Weird. One hallucination isn’t bad for a 100-mile race I suppose. I got to the top of Whitetop expecting a grand celebration, but there was no aid station and no hot soup. Just a few pacers waiting for their runners who told me that I could turn around once I crossed the original start line, and that’s what I did. I proceeded back down towards Carter and Jessi at Green Cove to start the long night ahead. 

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Turns out, giving Carter a heads up that we would be walking the next 30 miles was a good thing as he was able to gear up for a longer night than he was anticipating. I snagged some more potato soup from Jessi at Green Cove and I put down some ramen noodles from the aid station. Hot food was starting to taste REALLY good at this point. I have this thing where I get voraciously hungry when I run ultras. I eat everything in sight. Aid stations hate me.

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The next 15 miles actually clicked off fairly easily. It was mostly characterized by me telling Carter everything that you just read as we hiked towards Damascus so you can imagine how much time that took up. At about mile 80, we started to notice our headlamps going dim...uh oh. About two miles from Damascus, our field of view was narrowed down to a very faint beam of light coming from Carter’s headlamp. Mine was almost completely out. The tunnel vision was starting to slow down my perception of reality a bit. I stopped to pee and noticed how slowly the leaves at my feet were swaying in the breeze. Almost like slow motion.

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We made it into Damascus just in time to swap out batteries out in our headlamps and get in some much-needed calories. Much to my surprise, my friend Michael Phillips came out to cheer me on in the middle of the night and keep Jessi company (thanks pal!). 

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When Carter and I left Damascus for the last time, I still was taking in regular gels and eating at all of the aid stations, so the odds of a bonk were exceedingly low, especially at the 14-15 minute pace that we were holding. This was where things started to go downhill fast. I realized after leaving the Damascus aid station for the first time that my left shoe had been too tight for far too long and the tendon in the front of my left ankle was really starting to scream. This wasn’t the end of the injuries, though…

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As I mentioned at the beginning of this report, the Creeper trail winds through some beautiful farm country and cow pastures. About 2 miles outside of the Alvarado aid station, my left foot landed in a massive pile of cow shit and I slid about ten inches as a result. That was the end of my left hip flexor. At this point, my left ankle, knee, and hip were all in excruciating pain starting and stopping was becoming exceedingly difficult. The 15-minute pace turned into a 17-minute pace which turned into a 20-minute pace. As we went through the Alvarado aid station, I refused to stop for fear that I would not be able to start walking again. Carter ran up ahead to the aid station and grabbed a quesadilla for me to eat and handed it to me as I walked by and kept on moving towards the finish. 

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Now, I know what you are thinking. There are only a few miles left, you have no choice but to finish, right? Not exactly. I was writhing in pain and everything in me was telling me to quit. I was completely focused on the trail immediately in front of me and not tripping or stumbling on anything. If I went down now, I knew there was no getting back up.

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This is probably as good a place as ever to say that without Carter walking that last thirty miles with me, I would have never finished this race. The more I complained, the more encouraging he became. Even in the last few miles, when he was completely exhausted, he still managed to keep me motivated to move forward. When we got to that last mile, I looked up and Carter was a good 40 yards ahead of me. He wasn’t doing it on purpose, we were just so exhausted that he didn’t know where I was and I didn’t know where he was. We were done, physically and mentally.

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When we reached the I-81 overpass in Abingdon (0.5 miles to go) Carter and I realized that we were pretty far from one another and he waited for me to hobble up to him. I crossed the finish line in 22:36 and got the biggest and best hug ever from Jason Green. To my surprise and delight, he was standing there with my finisher buckle and my sub-24 buckle. I looked at him and said, with 100% honesty, “I gave it everything I have. I don’t have anything left”. 

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That much was true. If that race would have been 101 miles, I don’t think I would’ve made it. 

Maybe I’ll do another hundred someday, or maybe not. As I think back now, one thing is certain. This was the only time in my life when I gave everything that I had to give. I left it all on the field, and that’s pretty rad. The heat didn’t stop me, a busted knee didn’t stop me, and a massive pile of cow shit didn’t stop me. Although, I think I will just avoid a race that goes through cow pastures next time.

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This race was not a solo effort by any means. It was a team effort and there are A LOT of people to thank for helping see this goal through to completion. Thank you to Jessi for putting up with the long training hours, a chronically fatigued boyfriend, and for staying up all night to force-feed me potato soup. She played just as big a role as Carter in getting me across that finish line. Without her meeting me at all of the aid stations and crewing me through the night, I never would have made it. Thank you also to Michael who showed up on Friday night to crew me and keep Jessi company in the odd hours of the morning. Thanks to Dave for coaching me through a pretty tough training cycle and putting up with all of my complaints and negativity surrounding my chronic injuries. Lastly (as if I even need to mention this) thank you to Carter for basically saving my race and walking 30 miles through the night with a guy who did nothing but complained the whole time. To all of these folks and everyone else that made this dream possible, thank you. You all are rockstars and I can't wait to get the gang back together for the next wild and borderline stupid adventure.

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Cheers!