Ken's Capon Valley 50k Report

Infidelity. It is a betrayal of trust. It requires lies and deception, perhaps not intentionally and perhaps in words when spoken that are not meant to deceive. But the result is still the same - unfaithfulness. Can a runner be faithless?

The first of the seven alarms I have set goes off at 4 a.m. I’m up like a shot, having gotten 4 and half hours of sleep since getting home from the Nats game, a loss to the Marlins, on Friday night. I have some toast and OJ, grab my bag and drive off to rendezvous with Michelle and Megan. I have the address but the house looks different than I remember, but I recheck the address, the light is on and I gently knock on the door. It opens, and instead of Michelle, an old woman, fully dressed, promptly opens the door and says, “What the hell do you want?” I glance at her hands and silently give thanks that she isn’t armed. “I’m looking for Michelle,” I stammer, “at 4412.” “You’re two blocks off,” she snaps, “This is 4612. You better be more careful next time.”

I quickly retreat, get to the right address, and with Megan behind the wheel, we pick up Luc and head out to Yellow Spring, WV. I grab some sleep in the car.

Much to my dismay, the morning is cool and there is a light mist in the air. I am resigned to getting my feet wet due the rain the past couple of days, as I know from 2007 that the stream crossings will be swollen with runoff, but I really dislike being rained upon, especially when it isn’t warm. I can’t decide whether to wear long pants or a jacket, and finally decide on long sleeve shirt under a short sleeve one, a light shell and a hat. After some vacillation I decide against gloves and long pants.

Ruritan Club to Goleman Barn – 3.4 miles
After some technical difficulties, the boom box plays the National Anthem, the local reverend offers a prayer and at 8 a.m. we are off. I am concerned about my hip, which has been bothering me since the Difficult Run 5 Mile Cross country race five weeks earlier. Because of pain in the hip, over the last 26 days I have only run only once, and that a 5K. I take two ibuprofen at 7:30 and pack another ten in case I need them. I have doubts how far I can get and whether I can finish at all. I resolve that if the pain starts to get worse I will stop. If I need a reminder, I meet into a friend Friday night who tells me he is about to have a hip replacement. He is younger than I. “Don’t do it, dude,” he says, when he hears of my plans for this race.

I tell Megan that I will stay with her for the race and we start off together near the back. In the meantime, Michelle, Amanda and Lorrin take off. We are not a mile into the run, having just crossed the bridge over the Cacapon River and headed up the short stretch of Milk Road when I regret the decision to wear the shell. I remove it and tie it around my waist. Megan is saying that I can go ahead as we walk up the first steep hill on the course. “Oh no,” I say, “I’m with you the whole way. I ’m worried about my hip. I have hardly run in weeks and I’ll be glad just to be able to finish. I won’t leave you.”

We reach the first downhill, and I ease into a longer stride, trying out the hip. It seems OK. At the bottom we turn left and head up a stream course and splash back and forth across it eight times in the next three-quarters of a mile. The water is up and there is no avoiding it. After the last one, we begin a steep climb out of the stream course. Part way up the hill I look back and Megan is just approaching the last crossing. I’ll have to do some walking and she’ll catch up to me, I think.

The course levels out a bit and as we enter the field leading to the barn I am surprised to find myself catching up to Michelle, Amanda and Lorrin. The three are hardcore ultra runners. Last year Michelle convinced me last year to run Capon Valley as my first ultra when she neglected to remember how challenging, at least for a beginner, the course is. I know that they are likely to run the course in 7 to 7.25 hours, and I am beginning to worry that I will burn myself out or blow out my hip. But that’s when it strikes me – my hip is not bothering me! I have no explanation but it is good news and I figure that all I need to worry about now is whether I can run 31 miles on a month of almost nothing but rest.

Golemon Barn to the Water Stop - 3.4 miles
I use the Michelle NASCAR approach to the aid station – no lingering, and keep moving. Michelle, Amanda, Lorrin, I and several other folks run together. At one point we have to yell to some runners ahead of us who have missed one of the very well marked turns. More stream crossings, another seven, all unavoidable. The water is cool, bordering on cold. We push on and at somewhere in here I get ahead of them, likely on the steep descent to the water stop by the Cacapon River.

Water Stop to Capon Springs Road – 3.7 miles
This section contains perhaps the two most challenging parts of the course. Immediately upon leaving the water stop is a very steep ascent. A short while later the trail turns under some power lines. They hum and buzz in the mist while the trail goes down a steep descent down a partially eroded path. The power lines get left behind for some wooded trail and a gravel road down to Back Creek, where we ford knee deep water to the aid station. I shed my shell, remove the long sleeve shirt and stick both, along with my hat, in my drop bag.

Capon Springs Road to Milk Road – 3.9 miles
The course follows Back Creek upstream and there are plenty more opportunities for wet feet. That’s not actually accurate – my feet don’t ever dry out during the day. It’s more like they are refreshed and re-cooled when they start to feel like they are drying out, or at least when the retained moisture has reached body temperature. And even where there are no streams, there is mud and puddles and soggy ground along plenty of sections of the trails. Leaving the stream valley I start to experience a ‘bad patch’ one of those times during which one begins to lose faith as to the reason for what one is doing. It’s brought about by the continuing misty drizzle and the uphill climb. Fortunately, it doesn’t last long and when I come to a place where I can look out over a green field to green mountains in the distance, it’s just about entirely banished. And the rain seems to be coming to an end.

Milk Road to Capon Springs Grade – 4.3 miles
If the climb out from the water stop is the most single challenging feature of the course, this section is the most overall challenging. First, more stream crossings to keep the feet wet. Then the short road to the cabin surrounded by rusting vehicles, including an old school bus being used for storage, and the signs warning trespassers away. But there by the cabin is a pickup truck with two men with water and Gatorade. They are taciturn but I get water because I know what lies just beyond.

More junked cars, true, but more relevant to me, the very long climb up North Mountain. At the top is a dirt road and I can run stretches of it, but at one point I slip and go down slightly scratching my right shin and wrenching my left side. I get up, check for other damage, find none, not even to my previously problematic hip, and go on.

Capon Springs Grade to Capon Springs Road – 5.7 miles
This is the longest, but easiest portion of the course. It’s almost entirely downhill on forested paths. I’m running with [Debbie?Rhonda?] and we are pretty much staying together, with me leading on the downhills and she overtaking me on the uphills. After we cross a road I start to run down a beautiful grass covered road, but she yells to me to come back. I stop and see there are none of the pink ribbons that mark the course so well. Down another stream valley we crisscross the water several times, then start uphill. I fall in with Stephanie and we begin chatting as we approach Aid Station #5. It is her first Capon Valley run, so I offer her previews of what is to come.

She is worried about making the cutoffs, but I assure her that we have nothing to fear, barring injury. She plans to take part in a sprint triathlon the next day with her 12 year old grandson. “I don’t want to embarrass him,” she says, by doing poorly in the tri. I assure her that it’s more likely that the only chance of her embarrassing him is if she smokes him. She denies that is likely to happen, but later tells me she came in first in her age group in the first tri she entered.

Capon Springs to Golemon Barn – 3.2 miles
Stephanie and I grab some refreshment at the aid station, and head up the first of the two significant remaining climbs on the course. Then it is a steep downhill to the final stream crossing of the day, the 32nd by my count, and the 27th time I have to step in water in a stream or creek. This time is the riskiest, as the rocks are at an angle and are slippery and I do a split as a foot slips. I avoid falling in and offer Stephanie a steadying hand so she can avoid my fate.

As we head uphill again, she begins to pull away from me. But the course levels out and I put on a push to catch up because there is something ahead that I want to show her. I catch her and tell her that we should be alert for the tombstone that I saw last year in this stretch of trail. No sooner do I say it then Stephanie points and says, “There!” We stop and read the inscription for Jemima, and as I did last year on the same spot we wonder why she is buried there, and what is the story of her life beyond the ‘wife of’ and the 62 years that her dates span.

Golemon Barn to Ruritan Club Finish – 3.1 miles
I have not brought a pace card with me, so it’s hard to judge our progress relative to last year’s 7:10 finish. I sense I have walked more than last year, but on the other hand, I have not lingered at the aid stations. Stephanie and I are out of the aid station in 45 seconds, and for the first time I voice what has been in the back of my mind since somewhere before aid station #5, “I think we have a chance to finish in less than seven hours.” I have never done so in my four previous 50Ks, but I sense a chance. Stephanie and I keep up a good pace, and she urges me on. We have ten minutes to make it as we turn on to Route 259 and now I urge her on as I’m getting a bit tired from the push to this point. She goes on and I’m walking and running as I can, all the while taking glances at my watch and trying to gauge time and distance remaining. Stephanie yells encouragement over her shoulder as she runs strongly on, but it is also clear that she has accepted the goal as her own as well. Up the road I run and walk, and when I reach the final path of 100 yards or so to the finish I run. There is no clock at the finish line, but the timer says the time as I finish: 6:57. My place is 83/115.

Afterwards
Michelle, Amanda and Lorrin remain steadfast to each other and cross the line side-by-side-by-side in 7:12.

Luc, with the advantage of age, being only 20, finishes before any of us in 6:37.

We have some anxious moments wondering where Megan is, but Michelle spots her when she is still hundreds of yards from the finish line, and we all cheer her in as she is done in 8:03. Was I unfaithful to have left her so many miles and hours earlier after saying I’d be with her? Was Stephanie wrong to have abandoned me in what seemingly became her own desire for a sub-7 hour 50K – a quest that I gave her? Or do we all really run alone, and fool ourselves into thinking otherwise?

Anyway, after enjoying the fine chicken dinner that the Ruritan Club serves, especially the homemade desserts, we head back to Washington. The sky has cleared to a brilliant blue, with scattered puffy clouds, and we stop for ice cream at a roadside stand admiring the beauty of fields and mountains covered in verdant greens in the late afternoon sun.