Race porn. We all look at it. Don’t even try and lie. There’s a good chance that right now… while you’re reading this… there’s an open tab in your browser or on your phone that’s linked to Ultrasignup or your other favorite race site. Tisk tisk. But let me be the first to admit… I look at race porn. Though I’m not a full blown addict (the kind that throws dolla dolla bills for a race every weekend), I thoroughly enjoy occasionally browsing the site… gawking at pictures of dirty, filthy runners… elevation charts with long, hard climbs… pictures of huge… mountains. Shame on you! Get your head out of the gutter!!!
So Wednesday night I was lying in bed looking at some porn (race porn of course) when I stumbled across a low-key mountain stage race for the upcoming weekend. I hadn’t raced anything since the Wild Azalea 50 back in January, so I was itching for something to get the fire lit. Within a few minutes I was signed up. Let the adventure begin.
Thursday night I packed… or should I say… I threw a bunch of crap in the back of the Element that I thought I might need for a weekend in the mountains. I left out from work around 2pm on Friday afternoon for the north Tennessee mountains. I wasn’t looking forward to the 4.5hr drive, so I had to keep reminding myself that I was heading to play in the mountains. As soon as the silhouette of the mountain range filled the horizon… the memory of that long drive disappeared immediately.
The sun was setting by the time I reached the campground. Upon arrival I immediately noticed all of the AT Vs, 4x4s, OHVs, dirt bikes, etc… Fact: Windrock is the largest privately owned riding area in the country.
I parked and walked up to the small group surrounding a fire and was immediately greeted with a cold beer.
As darkness fell, our small group discussed shoes, races, mountains, beers… you know… the usual ultra stuff. The moon disappeared behind the clouds and a few streaks of lightning went across the sky. At the first drop of rain we called it a night. I crawled into the back of my Element and closed my eyes to the sound of a gentle rain.
I woke up and crawled out of my car and opened my eyes to a beautiful sunny mountain scene…
But the mountain silence was quickly penetrated by Kid Rock’s “American Bad Ass” blaring from the speakers of a bright yellow ATV flying down the gravel road…
At 8:30am… the group gathered together and walked the ½ mile to the start of the first stage…
Stage 1: 4.5m run (9am)
The first stage was the “flattest” stage of the weekend. Being in the northern Tennesee mountains… by NO MEANS was it flat. We all lined up and waited for the bull horn to signal the beginning of the race…
The lead pack took off and we headed up the mountain. I went out hard. I lead for the first mile or so, but John and Doug passed me on a short climb. I am still trying to figure out my pace/rhythm when it comes to shorter races, but after they disappeared around the next switchback, I settled in and enjoyed the next 3.5 miles.
The course was great… technical single track with a bunch of rocks and roots, a few hard climbs with a few sections of downhill where you could really let loose. This was hands down my favorite stage of the weekend. I came across the line 3rd and we all stuck around to support the other runners as they came off the mountain.
Whenever we all finished, we headed back to the campground to relax in between stages.
Around noon I went out and picked up some lunch and drove around downtown Oliver Springs.
I had a beer and took a brief nap before it was time to get ready for the second stage.
Stage 2: 10k* Climb (2:30p) *a little over 7 miles w/ approx 3400ft of gain*
The trail head for the second stage was a few miles away so we all hopped in our cars and caravanned down the mountain. The temperature had risen quite a bit since the morning, so I decided to go shirtless and just carry a hand held. Before the race started, The race director handed out laminated pieces of paper with directions just in case anyone got turned around. A few minutes before the race started a few runners bounded up the trail laughing and smiling. Apparently another race was taking place… a far more dangerous race than the one we were about to embark on. This was a race where young kids and one older female (the mother perhaps?) would climb a steep, rocky hill… and then race big wheels down to the bottom.
The bull horn sounded and we started the ascent. 75% of this race was done on extremely muddy and rocky 4x4 jeep trails. Most of the mud was avoidable, but it still left everyone with completely mud-caked shoes. There’s really nothing too terribly interesting about the first 5 miles of the climb other than the occasional 4x4 caravan that came sloshing through deep mud puddles. The trail finally turned into single track for the final ascent up the mountain. It was a part of the downhill mountain bike course and it was crazy steep. I got to a road crossing and could see a group of 4 bikers barreling down the mountain.These guys were insane, but come to find out… they thought the same thing about us climbing this trail to the top. What’s the difference between the two nut jobs? If I fell… I fell face first uphill. If they fell… they would fall and tumble until something along the mountain stopped them. I choose my type of insanity.
I continued up the mountain bike course until I crossed back over the road again. Luckily it only followed the road for a few yards before hitting the single track again. I was already sick of the 4x4 roads. The trail opened up and cut across a power line which revealed the first beautiful view of the race. I heard a cheer from Ryan (race director) from the top of the ridge and knew I was close. I was the second runner to cross the finish line and was immediately offered a beer for my efforts.
We sat around and chit chatted until we had enough runners to cross the line to justify a shuttle down to the bottom. 5 of us grabbed a beer, hopped in the back of the truck, and enjoyed the winding road back down to the bottom of the mountain. Ahhhh the joys of trail racing in the South :)
I had zero desire to clean up when I got back to the camp and apparently neither did the Johns. We found a shady spot, sat out our chairs, and enjoyed a well deserved cup of Crown.
After showering, we all gathered for a pasta dinner and some corn hole.
And to top it all off? Cold brews around a massive bon fire…
That first step Sunday morning hurt. My quads were shot. I knew it was about to be a looooong day…
Stage 3: 34k
There were a few new faces for this race. You had the option to sign up for any of the stages you wanted and a few people just signed up for the last one. It was little demoralizing watching runners on fresh legs bound up the long climbs along the 4x4 roads. I stayed with the Johns for most of the race…
Again… almost all but the last 3 miles of this race was muddy, rocky 4x4 roads. After leaving the first aid station we started up towards the top of the ridge…
Once up on the ridge it was more runnable. We stayed 3 deep as we rolled into the second aid station.
After leaving the aid station we had to take a lollipop route which was a lot flatter than the first half of the race.
We looped around and came back down the rocky path to the same aid station.
I refilled my water and grabbed a snack before heading back out to the course with the Johns.
There was one more massive climb before we hit the windmill out and back. Ryan was kind enough to pull over the shuttle truck after the second stage, interrupt our beer drinking and point this climb out to the group… total Buzz Killington.
I could feel a hot spot forming on my right foot so I told the Johns to go ahead because I needed to change socks. A quick change of socks and I began the treacherous climb…
The climb popped us out onto a gravel road which led us to the next aid station. We were about to head into the section of the race that everyone had been waiting for… the windmills…
The next section of the race was a 5 mile out and back along the ridge where the windmills are located. Though the road is very unentertaining... the magnitude of the windmills made up for it.
It was a little unnerving passing the first windmill. They were MASSIVE! But after passing one or two… the steady WOOOSH WOOOSH WOOOSH of the windmill’s blades became soothing…
the cool gusts of wind… running under these massive windmills… it was surreal.
Unfortunately this surreal feeling was shattered by the very real feeling of cramping legs. Boo. The last 4 miles were not pleasant…
After leaving the out and back along the windmill ridge… we headed down more 4x4 roads. The course again opened up to an amazing view of the landscape and I could see one of the Johns heading down the road…
I continued down the road until it ended. Dead end. Dammit. I missed a turn. I paced back and forth for a few seconds scanning the ridge trying to convince myself I hadn’t just missed a turn. Of course it didn’t take long for the truth to set in. Brush, briars, rocks and no flagging… yep… pretty obvious. I back tracked a little ways… sure enough… flags. I hopped down into the mountain bike single track that we had climbed on the previous day. It wasn’t much fun going down on cramping legs…
We crossed over a road and instead of heading back down the 4x4 road… I was thankful we continued straight down the single track. This section was beautiful…
I could finally hear some familiar voices talking… and sure enough… I popped out at the finish. I removed my pack, took off my shirt, and took a seat in the dirt. I was spent. 4th overall for the weekend.
I walked down to the parking lot where the Johns handed me a beer. We chatted for a few moments about the weekend before we said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways. I had every intention of taking a shower before heading home… but I was sun burnt, tired, muddy, and achy… and I just wanted to be home.
On the drive home I played the weekend over in my head. Was it my typical type of race? No. I am in love with super scenic, super technical single track… this was mostly boring, muddy 4x4 roads. It did offer an EXTREMELY challenging weekend of racing, some solid single track, gorgeous views at times and a chance to see those amazing windmills up close! The experience outside of the race itself was what made this race great… the amazing race director… awesome volunteers… the genuine people… great beers… camp fire talk… I really couldn’t have asked for a more perfect weekend in the mountains with a better group.
To break up the 4.5hr drive home… I stopped at a Wendy’s outside of Chattanooga to grab some dinner. I hobbled in… covered in mud/dirt… sun burnt face… messy hair… and ordered my food.
Wendy – “What happened to you?”
Not wanting to go into detail I replied, “2 days in the mountains.”
Wendy – “Here. Have a Frosty… on the house.”
God bless her heart…
Till tomorrow…
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