2016 Blue Ridge Relay -- Hey Jack!

 

So there's this relay race every year in September.....

I know, same thing every year but for those that don't know The Blue Ridge Relay is run every September from Grayson Highlands State Park in Virginia to Asheville, NC.  The exact mileage varies very slightly from year to year but typically it's roughly 206 miles of what seems like a lot more ups than downs.  Ultra teams of 6 or fewer runners and full teams of up to 12 runners compete by running in sequential order through the night for nothing more than bragging rights, a t-shirt, and a magnet.  That's right, no finisher medals and nobody cares.  The course takes you along the New River, through the Blue Ridge Parkway, through Grandfather Mountain and Mount Mitchell, and otherwise through the middle of nowhere.

Pat rocking the Hey Jack swag

This was the 4th year running for Hey Jack with a few guys having previously run once or twice with a group from Charlotte.  Despite running the same route every year, as the race director puts it, this is a different race every year.  Our best time of 25:59 was run in 2014 with 11 guys and our slowest time to date was last year when we finished in 26:51.  This year the build up was a little longer with chatter beginning early in the summer and a lot more group running prior to the relay.  We really hadn't ordered any swag since our first year running in 2013 so captain LT took the lead and we settled on ordering hoodies with our logo which is sure to become a staple of my winter wardrobe.

The next order of business was assigning legs which is an incredibly convoluted process where we consider the high mileage vs. low mileage legs and their difficulty, the van mix, and try to give guys the opportunity to run different legs than prior years.  After 4 years the different leg thing is really hard to make work and the van mix is really a non-issue because we all get along very well.  Eventually LT and I slap some names down and if there are no objections we roll with it.  And the objections are rarely with the leg assignment but there is typically a little push back when guys see the pace they are 'expected' to run.  Through a combination of logic and scientific engineering we come up with pace projections that amount to the equivalent of throwing darts.

Friday morning at 8:30 we met to load up the vans.  Hank Eimer, Pat Brooks, Yours Truly, John Mills, LT, and Mark Huegerich in van 1 (in that order) and Michael Banks, Jason White, Joe Haines, CJ, Knox Tate, and Ben Duke in van 2.  Having run this so many times and finishing among the top 20 we generally get one of the later starts and since we run with 12 it's typically with the last groups going out before the two track clubs.  That means that every team we start with is faster than we are which is always humbling.  Even though we could easily fill a third van with team egos we don't exactly fancy ourselves a 'real' running club so we really don't care.  In fact I think we sort of relish the opportunity to roll up looking like we spent the morning tailgating a football game.

Hank started us off with a screaming 4 mile downhill leg that LT inexplicably expected him to run at a 6:00 minute mile pace.  That set off a nice discussion about how drunk he was when he dropped these paces in but one should never doubt the genius of our fearless leader.  Hank is a great athlete, he's fit, and a really good runner - but I'm not sure he was put on this Earth to run 6 minute miles, much less 4 of them.  Nobody on our team was for that matter.  But with that whole ego thing everyone in this bunch is going to do everything humanly possible to run the sheet and damn if he didn't run 5:50's.  There was a brief moment when I thought he might die but fortunately he's still with us.  As our conquering hero settled into the backseat after emptying the tank with 4 miles down and 202 to go there was a brief pause when we speculated how that might affect his future legs.  But really, after banging out a run like that who cares...

Pat was up next in his first year with us after losing Eric Meredith to a medical conference that he's bailed on for the last 3 years.  Pat's a great dude with some wheels but he and Joe do absolutely nothing to support the notion that we're a bunch of skinny-fat dudes that run faster than we look.  They actually look, and are fast.  Starting that early with fast teams means that the roads are very, very lonely.  We might have been ahead of 2, maybe 3 teams that started with us at noon and the 5 or 6 we were chasing were in the wind.  Pat had 7+ miles of rolling hills and I was anxiously awaiting my start because until you actually break that first sweat it just doesn't quite feel like a race.

My legs this year were the same as my legs in 2014 which was a really good year in general for me.  Leg 3 was just over 5 miles with a mile down hill, a stupid 2nd mile with over 300 feet of elevation, then a steady downhill finish.  My second run was leg 15, the glorious 10.5 mile midnight climb up Grandfather and my final leg was just over 9 miles with the first two downhill and then a steady 7 mile climb.  Unfortunately I followed up that banner year in 2014 with an absolute train wreck in 2015.  Plantar fasciitis in both feet, then some compensatory joint issues in my foot, a lackluster Boston Marathon at about 75% and finally some piriformis butt / back issues that resulted in a big fat DNF at last year's BRR.  Yep, I officially completed 2.2 of my 3.0 legs.  As much as I love running with these guys not being able to finish last year really sucked. 

I had my paces from 2014 memorized and just wanted to run respectably close.  As I waited on Pat along side a 120 lb. 20 something year old I was really hoping the kid would go out first because based on the eye test it was clear that this kid was much faster.  Apparently Pat had other plans and came barreling down the mountain so I had no choice but run and hope I didn't get hawked down.  At least not within eyesight of anyone.  The van drove by and proceeded to tell me that Pat killed it following up Hank's 5:50's by running his tough 7+ miler in the 6:40 pace range.  Nothing like setting the bar high from the get go.  I ran a 6:28 pace last year but I knew that wasn't happening after the first mile.  It was a toasty 85 degrees without a cloud in the sky and I knew I had a lot of running left.  I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder until I hit the exchange zone sign but apparently Pat was kind enough to build a lead large enough that even I wasn't giving it up.  I finished leg 3 with a 6:46 pace and van 1 was rolling.

The next 3 legs are a bit foggy as my thoughts turned straight to Chick-Fil-A because I hadn't eaten lunch and soon it would be dinner time.  John, LT, and Mark all followed up with solid runs and van 1 passed the torch to van 2 at a Christmas tree farm in the middle of absolutely nowhere.  With dinner on the brain we headed straight into Boone in the general vicinity of the second transition area.  We rolled up into the CFA like a bunch of school girls on a field trip and ordered enough food to last the rest of September.  You know, the current meal plus the midnight snack after the 2nd leg that was to come.  Then there was the just-in-case-I'm-hungry sandwich for breakfast after the final legs just before dawn. 

Then we hit the transition zone for a few hours of rest and relaxation.  It was still fairly early so there would be no sleep but the sleeping bags were officially broken out for some serious down time.  In my last minute packing frenzy I wasn't able to find my sleeping bag or headlamp so I grabbed the quilt off my son's bed and hoped it might go unnoticed.  At approximately 10:31pm I received a text that it was officially noticed.  Fortunately the quilt made it back home, has been washed, and is back in it's rightful place.  LT disappeared for about an hour making rounds, shaking hands, holding babies, and being the social butterfly that LT is.  He returned to our plot of grass with half of the F3 Hickory team in tow and we spent some time catching up with them.

We finally settled into some mellow tunes but there's always that one guy with the iPad....the one that's watching a movie or cat bloopers on YouTube with the volume on high and no headphones.  All of a sudden someone let's out a "Jetpack!" that gets everyone's attention and we realize 'that one guy' is none other than the captain of our band of misfits.  LT just happened to be watching some old school James Bond and got a little excited when Bond pulled off his jetpack escape.  Not exactly sure why that became so memorable but "jetpack" became our battle cry for the rest of the relay.  Battle cry might be a reach since it was more mockery than motivation.

Once left to my thoughts it dawned on me that being in van 2 sucks.  Sure, they got to have lunch at a decent hour but other than that - being in van 2 is, well, less than ideal.  You leave early in the morning and have to wait 4-5 hours before your van is even the 'running van'.  Then some of those guys are sitting around 8 or 9 hours before the first run.  They still get one run on Friday afternoon which happened to be a hot one, then CFA after dark, and their first sleep is after dark but their van becomes the running van again around 1:00 am.  Good luck getting any sleep when you have to be up just past midnight.  Their second leg would wrap up around 4:00 am so basically they go to bed right before the sun comes up and they are back up to run their third leg in the morning sun which includes a couple mountain goats.  That said, go ahead and put my name in the hat for a van 1 preference again next year...

Rare team photo at the 1st transition zone

Once our van was live again I started to get a little nervous.  For the past year I've been looking forward to getting back to the relay and having a strong showing to make amends for last year.  I also knew that a couple years ago I had run a very solid Grandfather leg that I didn't expect to replicate but was anxious to see how this version of me compares to version 40yo.  I paced around waiting for Pat to come in and passed the time with Clay Taylor who is a good Hickory Knuts friend that was lining up and waiting to run the same leg.  There was also a guy running strides back and forth, over and over, that was just flat out wearing me out.  He was clearly a solid runner but that many strides before a 10+ mile climb - as Chris Carter would say, c'mon man!  Anyway, just like with my first leg I was praying to the running Gods that I could chase these guys up Grandfather and not vice versa.  But nope, right on queue Pat came down the street looking possessed and I was back in the thick of it.

It was just after 10:00 pm and a perfect 65 degrees on the mountain.  I was decked out in my reflective vest and a one million watt LED headlamp provided courtesy of Huegerich with my red blinky lights blinking and my Green Lantern light tucked in my vest for good luck.  Having run this leg before I knew what to expect - dark and desolate roads and mostly uphill stretches that were manageable in the middle with a couple tough miles to start and a couple tough to finish.  There were some stretches of subtle downhills where you could make up time but the one thing that never changes is total darkness.  Aside from my million watt headlamp which makes for shadows of menacing creatures all the way up the mountain.  Except for the albino rattlesnake I saw on the side of the road.  I'm pretty positive that was real.




I spent far too long worried about my split comparison from a few years ago but at least it gave me a target, sort of.  Miles 1-2 and miles 8-9 are the

toughest, get through those and just find a rhythm in between and save enough for a decent finish.  I ran this leg at a 7:19 pace in 2014 and my goal for this year was just to keep it under 7:30 which I still didn't feel great about.  If nothing else I would learn a little something about my strength given that I was one week away from my marathon taper.  The first two miles went by fairly quickly at 7:19 and 7:30 which I'm going to chalk up to expecting Clay and the obnoxious strider to be on my heels.  I found a very comfortable rhythm and before I knew it I was over half way through and feeling good. 

My runners highs are very few and far between but when I get them it's rarely because I'm running fast or effortlessly.  It's typically because I've got the clarity to appreciate the gift of running and in those moments I'm able to count my blessings above all else.  I recognize the struggle some folks have to walk, much less run, and am able to appreciate the wind in my face and the beating of my heart without a passing thought to how fast I'm running.  I knew my children were at home, safely tucked in bed, blessed with good health and that my wife was there with them - praying for my safe return, and hoping I didn't ruin my son's blanket.  And on this night, more than anything else I thought about Nolan, a little boy that I didn't even know before I left Hickory.  Nolan recently underwent surgery for a brain tumor and is now set to undergo a series of chemo / radiation treatments.  I think it's safe to say cancer affects us all but when a young child is affected is really hits home.  As a show of support our teamed rocked our 'NOLAN IS OUR SUPERHERO' wristbands and all of our thoughts were, and still are with him and his family for the long road they face.

Despite the challenge of running up Grandfather I felt in control and relaxed the whole time.  I ran scared for a few miles, spent several miles zoned out in the middle, and finished in an emotional state where I just felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the family and friends in my life.  I finally saw the exchange zone sign, let go of everything I had left, then ran right past the exchange point.  LT yelled at me and I took a quick detour down the grassy bank and dropped that wrist band on John like it was my job.  Unlike the first leg when I was looking at my watch every half a mile I rarely looked at my watch going up Grandfather.  I certainly kept up with the mileage beeps but after the first two miles and a few random miles here and there I didn't pay much attention so I wasn't really sure what to expect. 
Just having 2 of 3 runs down was a huge relief and despite my adrenaline being high I was about to tear into a cold Chick-Fil-A sandwich and was totally looking forward to an uncomfortable sleep.  I was fairly certain that I came in under my 7:30 target pace but was really surprised to see that I had just run 7:14's which was actually an improvement from last year.  I really didn't see that coming but the stars just lined up for me I guess.  And while I'm beating myself on the chest it's probably worth noting that Ryan Jank with the Charlotte Running Club (the eventual winner by a whopping 10 seconds over Asheville) ran this same 10.4 mile with 800 feet of climbing at a 5:44 pace which is just ridiculous.  But hats off to you and both running clubs for an incredible race......now let's get back to our recreational running...

Precious Hank

Once John, Mark, and LT rounded out the rotation I agreed to drive to the next transition zone.  It was around 1:00am and I had a chicken sandwich in my belly, two solid runs under my belt, and I was ready for a couple hours sleep.  Then I realized we had a little over a 30 minute drive ahead of me and was dog tired.  We finally made it, backed into a cozy corner of a big field, spread the tarp, and settled in.  Since I was without a sleeping back I decided the van was my best option and slept with a seatbelt piercing my ribs on the bench seat.  Between that and a cramp in my calf that seriously looked like a hamster was crawling around underneath my skin it was a relatively unpleasant slumber but it was a slumber nonetheless.  Since Hank was the first runner in our rotation I had the pleasure of waking up to his smiling face saying let's roll.  Rumor has it that LT shook the Earth with his snoring so it sounds like my bench seat accommodation was the right call after all.

Hootie Bowman.  Picture copyright
infringement pending.

My last leg was coming up and I felt surprisingly spry.  And that's relative to prior years - as in I was walking without a limp, my legs weren't on fire, and my insides weren't completely turned upside down.  I still had just over 9 miles ago but only a couple hundred feet of climbing and with two solid runs behind me I was feeling good about things.  So good, in fact that I decided to take a page out of the other Hootie's book, even though I maintain that he is the real Hootie, and rock a pair of jorts on my final leg.  I mean if he can run with a pair of 70's style Russell gym shorts lodged a good 5 inches up is sphincter surely I can manage a few miles in some daisy dukes.  I did get some friendly advice from our resident doctor, prophet, and philosopher Knox Tate which was something along the lines of, "I love it but if you're going to wear a get up like that you should probably wait for the sun to come up."  Fair enough, so it was still dark - but the sun would rise about the time I realized that wearing the jorts between runs was a far better idea than running in them.  For the most part the chaffing was a non-issue but denim isn't exactly wicking and cinching a belt to hold up saturated denim tends to wear through a layer of skin or two.

Knox trend setting as always

Fortunately we were finally in the thick of other teams so I racked up 11 kills and for the most part always had someone in my sights.  Being able to dial in on someone and chase them really helps pass the time and is good for pacing too.  For most of my run it was dark but I assumed the million watt headlamp bouncing around behind a runner was a dead giveaway that someone one closing in.  Apparently not.  Most of the time it was a pleasant exchange of encouraging words but there was one unsuspecting female that I'm convinced was reaching for her mace as I ran by.  She finally came to her senses and I apologized for creeping up on her but I think it's safe to say that woke both of us up.  This leg was a great run along the river that I'm sure was beautiful had it not been 5:00 am and dark.  I closed in on the exchange zone chasing down one last runner then handed off to John and my BRR was officially a wrap.  I finished this leg with a 7:07 pace which was slightly better than I ran a couple years ago so my relay had gone much better than expected.

I had a pancake breakfast waiting that I could actually eat this year because my running was over.  Another reason van 2 sucks - it's not ideal to load up on pancakes then run your final leg.  At least not in my world.  The final 6 legs include the two mountain goats, a screaming downhill run in between, and the final run downhill to the finish in Asheville.  We had a few legs left before the next big show which was Bank running the first mountain goat but somehow Huegerich managed to take center stage.

Mark's final leg started rather unceremoniously as we loaded up and gave him a few minutes before driving ahead to our final exchange zone.  As we pulled up beside him he unloaded with an explicative tirade about how there was no F$#!Ki*! sign and how those b%!t*$s must have moved it and was just fuming.  We humored him before driving on ahead as LT confirmed with the rest of the group that our van had been following the signs and the route seemed to be clearly marked.  Still no word on exactly what he missed, or how, but it sounds like maybe he ran an extra 0.2 miles or so? 

We were all anticipating Mark the Furious to show up at the exchange zone but to our surprise he came blazing through, right wrist extended across the finish and to quote him with his watch on full display, "look at this b!#ch3s!"  Mark proudly displayed his 3rd leg pace of 7:07 which was off the charts from what we expected.  Then he rained on his own parade when he realized that was just his last mile which was still awesome but his average pace wasn't quite 7:07.  He still knocked out a solid run in the mid-high 7's so I think it's safe to say we'll be hiding signs from Mark in future races because he clearly runs faster angry...


But fret not, Mark hasn't quite put his stamp on the relay yet.  While LT was banging out his final leg Hank relinquished driving duty to Mark who straps himself in and prepares to drive us up the first mountain goat.  That takes us up the mountain past several runners on a road full of switchbacks to an exchange zone that is a complete disaster.  Vans are lined 20-30 deep on both sides of the road down the back side with a congregation of runners standing around the exchange zone.  LT jumped in the passenger side with his face buried in the pace book before realizing who was behind the wheel.  His expression was priceless but was every bit as animated as Steve Carrel in Office with a resounding "No, NO, NO!!  Why, why would you let Mark drive?!  Up the mountain goat of all legs."  I'm not sure any of us knew exactly what we were in for but....


We finally caught up with Banks who had made serious headway up the mountain.  The pancake breakfast at the bottom and specifically waiting on LT to chew each bite 30 times put us a little delayed getting up the mountain.  We offered encouragement to Banks and he offered the middle finger which I'm fairly certain was a public display of affection and flown in appreciation for the confidence we placed in him.  As we reached the top Mark recognized the van congestion lined all the way down the mountain but spotted a service road leading to a trail head that just happened to be directly behind the porta-pots and shielded by a group of 30 runners or so.  So like any prudent man would do Mark started to ease a cargo van through the masses of people to avoid the walk back up to watch the finish.  Among the confused wide-eyed runners trying to figure out exactly what this guy was doing one guy said, "What, do you want me to just have all of these runners move?"  I wasn't able to see the guys delivery because I was slumped down in my seat as far as I could go but I took the comment to be blatant sarcasm.  Not Mark though, nope, Mark took him up on his offer and said, "Yeah, that'd be great."

Note the vans parked along the left side leaving the right
runners and passing traffic

Note the van with the yellow duck with no way out

Our whole van is sort of at a loss full of wide eyes and blank stares.  There's this little issue of getting through the crowd and parking facing away from the road.  Then there's a whole separate issue of getting out.  There's really nowhere to turn around, the porta-pots prevent any maneuvering to turn around - not to mention the mass of runners that will inevitably form behind us if and when we ever get parked.  And oh by the way, a volunteer was parked back there sitting in his truck watching the whole thing.  Eventually the runners realize the big white van with the duck on top is fully committed to this bad idea.  In one final attempt to state the obvious one female runner points out that everyone else is parked down the street, on the street.  Mark cordially addresses her with a sincere thank you as we make our way through and then she fired the shot heard round the world....."jackass!"  No sooner than the van was in park LT had the keys secured and we were officially in but had no way out.  Most of us hung back to avoid a potential lynching but Mark was determined to confront the runner with the audacity to call out this jackass maneuver but fortunately we were able to avoid that fiasco.  Our only saving grace was that a local resident was headed up the course against the runners which forced a reversal of traffic and cleared out the runners just long enough for Hank to execute a flawless 19 point road turn to get us back on course and headed to the next exchange zone.  Mark never drove again and probably never will.


We were closing in on the finish in Asheville with Joe set to run 'the nipple' which basically takes you straight up and then straight down.  It really is a death march to the peak and couldn't have happened to a better guy.  Especially coming off missing a turn on his second leg.  The infamous Hanging Rock Rd.  Leg 21, do not miss the right turn on Hanging Rock Rd., seriously, that's got to be the most missed turn in the relay.  I would have missed it last year had it not been for a preemptive text warning me that was an easy turn to miss.  Missing a turn is awful but missing a turn at 3:00 am that extends your already long run in the middle of wild dog country takes you straight to suckville.  Joe has transitioned to the ranks of being an ultra runner so he handled that much better than I would have for sure.  But back to the nipple, his death march had vultures circling overhead but he opened up that long stride down the backside and wrapped up his BRR in a flash.

Our team best record was out of reach by at least 30 minutes but we had a friendly side bet with our F3 Hickory guys that was also getting away from us.  Since they had an earlier start than we did the bet was that we would not be able to make up the gap.  Half way into the race it seemed like we were making good time but from there on we didn't seem to pick up any ground.  I only knew a handful of their guys personally but the ones I knew were in van 2 and they really laid it out there late in the race.  In the end they won a well deserved six pack by about 10 minutes.  My only beef with that was who negotiates a six pack prize for a 12 man team?  I mean I know who so I guess the question is why....  All in all Hickory had a great showing this year with our team, the F3 Hickory team, and the Hickory Knuts all posting top 25 finishes in the open category and F3 Hickory's ultra team coming in under 30 hours with 6 runners. 

CJ ran sneaky fast the whole race and handed to Knox for leg 35.  The leg is just over 4 miles but starts with a monster 2 mile climb.  If this was a mountain goat I seriously doubt anyone would disagree but at a minimum I'd give it a very, very hard.  Knox bounces uphill like a baby deer and when you factor in the straw hat he ran in this year it was quite the sight to behold...but as always in typical Knox fashion.  Ben was the anchor waiting to bring us home so once he was on course we made our way towards the finish.  Ben came rolling down the sidewalk and we did our best to keep up and cross the finish as a team.  And just like that, 26 hours and 40 minutes later it was over.  We lost a bet, almost got beat up by a girl (at least Mark did), made a wrong turn or two, and certainly didn't set any records but it was another amazing experience that I wouldn't trade for anything.   

Cold water therapy

Ben getting ready for the final leg

Here's to another year, another BRR, another adventure, and hopefully more to come...

Hey Jack!