I’m probably a compulsive record keeper. The trip reports that I have typed up for this blog come from a series of notebooks I’ve kept on my travels since I hiked the Appalachian Trail in 1976. Over the years I’ve lost a few sets of notes and/or the maps that went with them, and in some rare cases I went on long trips without keeping a journal. But my records for my most of my major trips are intact. One notable exception is the 1993 Mountain Masochist 50 miler. This was only my second ultramarathon finish, but for some reason I did not make a detailed journal entry for the race, and I have no pictures from it.
This
report was typed in 2023, so much of the details are long forgotten. For
background, I used my entry and result sheets for the race. The race results
are published in the archives of Ultrarunning, along with a race report,
presumably by David Horton, and brief notes from three other runners. Mountain
Masochist now has “new” race directors and the information on their web site
does not go back into the 1990s.
1993
was my first year in Tennessee, and I was having some trouble adapting to the
climate. My ultrarunning history was slim; I’d dropped out at 43 miles in my
first 50 miler in 1990, finished the same race in 1991, and finished a trail
marathon in 1992. I assumed I would be able to use a similar training schedule
to what I’d used out west, building up my mileage through the summer to peak
for a fall race. The East Tennessee humidity put a quick end to those plans.
1993 was a particularly hot, humid year as a huge weather pattern camped out
over the southeast causing flooding of the Mississippi River and record heat in
the southeast. I had no experience with the type of humidity that covered me in
sweat by the time I reached the end of the driveway. On top of that, my grass
pollen allergies, that had been dormant while living out west, were in full
bloom. I’d typically need to pull over at least once on my afternoon commute
(in my unairconditioned truck) to recover from a hay fever attack.
I
was working underground in the Jefferson City Zinc Mine, where at least it was
cool and pollen free. At the time I was living near Mascot and did my midweek
running near home or at House Mountain (now a Knox County Park). I also was
doing a lot of road biking from home, which was much cooler. I could run after
work, but struggled with finding longer runs on the weekends. Anything local
was miserable, starting in early morning was cooler, but meant the humidity was
100%. But trails in the Smokies brought some relief. It was higher and cooler, and
all the trails were new to me then. If I avoided the horse trails the footing
was good. I was too new to the area to know other runners, so all my workouts
were solo. As it turned out Knoxville was rather late to trail running, so
there wasn’t anyone else out on the trails.
By
August I was getting in a series of 15-20 training runs in the Smokies, mostly
from Cosby or Big Creek, which were my closest trailheads. In early September I
was in Wyoming’s Wind River Range for a week-long backpack/climbing trip. After
that trip I went back to the Smokies for my weekend runs. My preparation was
good, with the exception that I had only one run over 20 miles. 50 miles was
probably the most common ultramarathon distance in those days, and I probably
chose Mountain Masochist because it was reasonably close to home, and had a 10
year history of management by David Horton.
The 1993 Mountain Masochist Course.
I
drove up to Lynchburg, VA on Friday, went to the pre-race banquet, and had a
motel room In Lynchburg. The next morning, I rode the bus from Lynchburg to the
start at the Blue Ridge Parkway’s James River VC. The course is a long
point-to-point route. Without a crew the bus was the only way to get back to my
car. We were lucky to have one of those perfect fall weather days.
Most
of the course was dirt and gravel forest service roads that headed north along
the parkway. (Note that the current racecourse has changed substantially and is
now an out and back course with a couple of side loops). My course map shows
the first 6 miles as paved, but I don’t remember that. The course began with a
quick out and back loop, probably to make the distance an even 50 miles. There
would be 16 aid stations, each with a cutoff to keep us under a 12 hour finish.
I was nervous about the cut off as my prior 50 mile finish at the 1992 Deadwood
race was in 12:20.The early part of the race went well, but then my left knee
began to bother me. I’d had IT band trouble in my previous ultras, and continue
to be plagued with the issue. I think somewhere around 17 miles (Aid 6) it
began to bother my running. Thankfully, I’ve always been a strong hiker and
could still power along at close to 4 mph. Usually, my knee only hurt on the
downhills, so I imagine I was still able to run the flat and gentle climbs, at
least while my energy held out. The course advertised 8,000’ of climb and only
6,200’ of descent, so the net 1,800’ gain should have been perfect for me.
Around
30 miles there is a five mile side loop. I remember this section as taking a
while, and probably was having more severe knee pain at this point. Beyond the
bonus loop, it was just a matter of keeping moving to the finish. But looking
through the race splits, it didn’t appear I was losing much ground to the other
runners. But I was near the rear the entire race. Midrace I’d built up a
cushion on the cutoff approaching 40 minutes, but I’d whittle that down
substantially in the last 11 miles.
The
last section was a short piece of paved road and I remember hobbling down it
energetically, just happy to have the end in sight. I just snuck in under the
cut off at 11:51, but it was a new PR for me! I was # 144 of 152 finishers and
185 starters.
The
postrace banquet was at the finish, and featured RD David Horton handing out
finish awards individually to each runner. I thought I’d might have been last,
but was surprised at the handful of runners who’d beat the cutoff by smaller
margins than I. I’d first heard of Horton when he had set his Appalachian Trail
speed record, the man he’d raced that year (a backpacker known as the Maniac)
finished ahead of me. The race was won in 7:12 out of a super competitive field
with several still recognizable names in the top 10.
After
dinner, the bus took us back to the start at Lynchburg, and somehow I got
myself back to the hotel. I slept, and drove home partly via the Parkway. I was
really sleepy, and the drive seemed to take forever.
My
status as a lone runner continued through most of the 90’s. I didn’t find a
regular running partner until joining the UT MBA program in 1999. One of the
other guys was drinking a huge mug of water and I asked him about it. He said
he was hydrating for a big race which turned out to be Mountain Masochist. I
told him I’d run it, and he was shocked to find another runner, much less one who
ran ultras, and who had run that specific race. Steven and I ended up with lots
of runs together, including his introducing me to the Barkley.
