The Music City Ultra was billed as a tough, rugged course with 5000 feet of vertical gain. The verti chart had 13 notable, short climbs. I was determined to make a play for this race - I have been laying low - training short after the birth of our second son. But with a fair showing at the Forget the PR 50k just a month earlier I felt encouraged and parlayed that fitness into a reasonable bout of training.

After an awesome show at the start (Braveheart reenactment complete with blue face paint and a horse)... we were off and I mean off! I felt like I had been shot out of a cannon - there was a steep climb not a mile in to the race and I knew better than to get stuck following a pair of buns up the single track. I wanted to be out front.

I was 3rd to the hill. We started the 50k with the 25k and 10k folks. I then passed the two fellows in front of me. This seemed a bit odd. I tore through the early miles with reckless abandon, coming into Aid One at 5 miles in 31 minutes. I looked at my watch in disbelief.

The steep short climbs came and went. I faltered a bit around mile 16 and hit a low point. I heard a twig snap and out of nowhere popped the first runner I had seen since the initial few miles. I had no answer at that moment and was forced to watch him bound away. It was still early so I felt I had time to reel him in.

The backside of the course contained a dreadful loop with endless creek crossings, high brush and evermore steep climbs. The sun was out and it was mid eighties by now.

Coming into the aid station at about 18m

The rest of the race was a painful mix of dusty jeep roads and roughed-in trails that were definitely roads less traveled. I dropped my S- Caps at 3 hours and chose not to stop. By hour 4, I was heating up.

One of many creek crossings - a brief moment of cool- Swiftwick 12 inch Aspires and
Solomon Ultra Sense (and Roy's Mtn Hardwear pack) were the perfect mix

When I finally broke out of the woods and back onto the field that led to the finish, I felt my legs start to cramp. It was a race against time. I finished 2nd oval in 4:40.

I will fix my eyes upon the Lord.

Good friend, Grant Castle, was gracious enough to score me some salt tabs and a banana at the finish. Once recovered, I got to announce my wife's finish in the 25k. Great race - great RDs and great volunteers. What a day in the woods.

Running Out of a Fog

Me, Wil Emery, Tim Dennis and Roy Well (taking the photo)
on Lost Mtn.

The blistering glory of crossing the finish line at the Burning River 100 Miler in 19:44 was the last moment I have felt the clarity that comes with racing. That was mid summer. It's now well into Fall and the whispers of winter are here.

The picture above is of my Swiftwick mates- and I running new found paths - dear paths, power lines, dirt trails and anything we can find. I find great joy in these runs - with men whom I work shoulder to shoulder with in an intense environment - we go out at lunch in search of adventure and release. We search out the unknown and the untraveled- stumbling on tree stands on occasion and signs barring our passing. Still, we press on - through the thorns and the brambled tangles of the forest.

Here I am at home and at least for a moment- the fog clears. I want to race. I want to challenge and train. But until I find that next mountain - I'll keep running and scrambling up the dear's path to find those moments of clarity. Keep running through the fog and look for that clearing up ahead.

God speed,

Jadyn

Burning River 100M - 2012

The castle walls were lit by the fiery engines of the generators. Their droning hum grew louder as I approached in the blackness. Little lights like firefly's sat atop the heads of the runners gathered and waiting, darting this way and that, putting on layers and taking them off and chattering incessantly with each other and their crews and families.

Ready Set Go Go Go!!!!!!!!

I said goodbye to my crew and made my way to the line and we were off. Running through a field at 5 am in Cleveland Ohio from Squire's Castle, we would run a series of trails and connecting roads to Cuyahoga Falls (Akron).

The mood was tense and few spoke but churned forward with our sloshing bottles packs onto what seemed to be a horse trail. The fairly smooth surface allowed for a quick pace and runners including myself jostled for position.Three miles into the race I said to myself "You have got to be kidding me." I certainly know better, we all do.

On the uphills I found my Chi running technique most beneficial. This sideways, cross step, arm swing gait is a tremendous leg saver at low speed and over long distances. I found I could use this technique where others would walk, doubling their speed using half the energy.
At mile 5 or so there was a split in the road and a female runner and I turned towards each other and in unison said "Which way?" A lead group had broken away but then it was us and some 70 or more  people behind us. I chose the right fork. Unfortunately at this point, we were already off course. After several stops and starts and "Which ways" and "This ways," I figure we added about a mile but for me it was a blessing. Because at this point I relaxed, settled into a comfortable pace, saw the folly and the humor and the joy all at once. And like pulling up to a nice big meal when very, very hungry, I was ready to dig in.

We came out of the loop that had encircled the castle, 6 plus miles (maybe 7 for us) at about day break. We then made our way through beautiful and majestic mature trees, the trail meandering. The day revealed cloud cover and it started to rain. It was a wonderful cool summer rain. I worked through the aid stations. My crew continued to surprise me by being at aid stations I had not anticipated seeing them.

This race had an element I, to date, had not experienced, a truly professional crew. By professional I mean, three individuals who were ultras and who knew exactly what was going on. Ben and Liz Pickle, and ultra-friend Ben Vanhoose are a picture of selfless-kindness and embody the spirit of the Ultra in my opinion.  Seeing them at the polo fields, the rain had turned to giant splashy drops. The green forest smelled of new growth and fresh earthen fragrances.  I passed through the aid station stopping only at their vehicle to change bottles and get some nutrition (no caffeine for the first 50 miles).


humid conditions but great support on course

From here I worked forward as the terrain changed, more rocky now, creek crossings, and I followed a runner in a Notre Dame shirt for what seemed like endless miles. I don't know why it struck me as odd but I had never seen an ultra runner wearing a team shirt like this. I just kept reading the same words, Notre Dame again. After a while they sound funny in your head.

From here we came out for a long stretch on the road where there were several hills that at the time made me very thankful for the countless lunchtime runs with my Swiftwick mates up and over the green hills of Brentwood and Franklin. I felt strong as I came into mile 26 aid station. I was relaxed, sat in a chair  and greeted by my crew and changed out of my K 3's and into my (Roy's) Bajadas. But refused a change of socks, my 12 inch white Swiftwick Aspires felt so good even wet that I decided to continue on in them. 

Mr. Ben Vanhoose makes sure
I keep my aid station visits brief but never
do I leave lacking.

Another element of Chi or effortless running is utilizing your core and upper legs while relaxing your calfs. Theory being that you can in essence use no more energy than that which is used walking at a low rate of speed running. It was working... to this point.

Note the incredible aid station dress

I remember very little about miles 30 to 50. I know it got hot as I came out of the woods at one point on a crushed gravel path that followed a winding river, I believe this was mile 50 and the path was the Tow path used by early settlers or something historic.  The heat and the humidity threatened to suffocate. I turned my white Swiftwick hat around, breathed through my nose and continued on, jumping over the small patches of shade as it would creep across the path.  It was here that I passed a runner, a prostrated soul, arms dangling, drenched in sweat, heaving and wheezing. He was cooked and it was early.  I passed and said "Good job" and then kept moving.

At 54 I would pick up my first pacer. I anticipated seeing my friends as I heard the hoots and hollers from around the bend.

Liz and I working through some middle miles

Liz section:
Mrs. Liz Pickle stepped up to take the first leg of pacing duties. I was still quite cognisant and able to joke a bit. We chatted and clicked miles off.  As we exited the aid station and I had enjoyed my first caffeine / red bull of the day, I expelled a massive burp.  And to this I told Liz that I would not be responsible for any noises that came out of me from this time forward. She laughed and commented "What happens on the trail, stays on the trails". We worked through the heat of the day, the beautiful trail and her positive outlook kept me from self pity as now I was well over 60 miles. One runner of particular note leap-frogged back and forth with me and eventually ran many miles with us. She was from NY, an architect, her boyfriend was there but was not running.  She ran without food or drink except a small bottle. I did not think her long for the race. Still we trudged on, making it to about 65 where Ben, Liz's husband - the captain of our merry band would meet us. She did really well in the end.

Ben Pickle section:
Ben Pickle is solid, in his words and deeds. He does not hesitate. As a pacer this instills great confidence in a salt covered, half naked runner. I had continually turned down my pack which I had promised myself I would wear, desiring to carry as little as possible. Two hand helds and a gel in my shorts. Ben had miles 65 to 80. And we worked through the late afternoon and into the evening. I recall coming upon a giant corn field and hearing a low murmur of an engine. Out of nowhere a massive tractor three stories tall with 75 feet of sprayer emerged, almost crushing Ben and I. At the time neither of us spoke of it nor altered our step. One of the key principles of this particular race that I wanted to embody was pulling both highs and lows to the middle. The sun was starting to fail as the shadows grew, we exited the field passing several now walking runners. Soon we were at mile 80 where Mr Ben Vanhoose would take on pacing for the last 20 miles. We arrived at the covered bridge with lights still in the sky. Christmas lights were hung in a swinging fashion from the rafters. I recall a powerful moment. I stood drinking a red bull still feeling good, staring at a runner splayed out laying on the ground with a towel on his bald head. It was the last 20 miles, now this was a contest as before a traverse. I had steadily passed individuals at mile 60 knowing that I had started much slower than most.  Here we go. Ben also had some magical 100 mg caffeine gels that he administered like a Dr. they helped in a pinch more than a few times. I also lost my ability to keep track of how often I was taking in S-Caps. Thanks to my crew for taking this on.

Ben Vanhoose section:
This would be the most difficult section of the race according to Ben. It is good to get to run some of it in the light. He was right. Gnarled roots and fairly steep inclines relentlessly came turn after turn. All I could think though was how I felt at mile 80 of Tahoe's 100 and what laid ahead there.  I am sure a thin lipped smile crept across my face. We worked into the night and my headlamp failed as always, Ben and I traded. I vacillated from pain to perseverance. We made it through the sketchy section, popping out on the road. But were far from safe as we passed an amphitheater where a concert was letting out. Running the road with no shoulder and cars passing. I was repeatedly ready to jump into the ditch.

I recall Ben telling me at one particular low point, "I'm gonna need a little more from you." This struck a chord with me and I was determined to answer. I knew what he meant, I had been threatening to walk, and I had more to give... it just hurt to give it, but the truth was... I needed to let it hurt, suck it up and keep running.

We made it to the Tow path and an aid station where a man in a coconut bra asked me how I feeling. I am not sure I had words to answer but mumbled something about keeping on. We made it to the many flights of forest stairs at mile 90 something. And luckily the rails allowed me to use my arms to pull myself up. I was passed by a runner at the top of the stairs, with about 2 miles to go.  We popped out on the road one mile out. Ben and Liz Pickle jumped out and we all headed in as planned for the last mile together on the road. With 3/4 mile or so to go we hit a large hill. In the distance I saw the runner who passed me... he was walking. I was filled with heat and uttered the words "I can catch him". Without forethought but in an instant I was churning up the hill. Breathing heavily, throwing everything I had into a final kick. As we neared him, all of us running, flying through the streets of Cuyahoga Falls, Liz shouted "We are going to catch him!" But to me he was quarry and we were not to alert the prey yet. Ten steps later, his light turned abruptly into my face and he started trying to run but I passed him as if he was standing still. He said "I've got nothing for that!" I was by in a blur. My legs screaming, alarms, bells, whistles, going off in my brain. My pain sensors overridden, full-on tunnel vision. The finish now in sight. Ben P. said, "That sign, the red numbers, at the end of the street. That's it, that's the finish"

uphill push to finish

I felt the rush and sound of wind of the three souls that ran with me and I no longer felt my legs but churned to and through the finish in 19 hours and 44 minutes for 15th ovrl. Later Ben V's watch read 7:23 pace for our final mile.

so close I can taste it!

finished thank you Jesus.

I was a lost and lecherous fool , Christ saved me and... I am now saved.

Thanks Swiftwick and Fleet Feet Nashville - I am honored to have such legit sponsors who rule.

I wore the same pair of socks for the entire race - Swiftwick Aspire white 12's. NO BLISTERS.

Jadyn M. Stevens

Country Music Marathon 2012: Heat, Sun, Hills and Home...

The sky turned a deep pink and purple as the first rays of dawn pierced the night sky, sitting at Starbucks at 5:15 am. It was race day- Country Music race day, for the city of Nashville and those involved it is a very special day. A day that is fueled by the participants and volunteers and bands and countless police and emergency staff that strike out before dawn to make it happen. It is an almost mystical experience. The atmosphere is rich with nervous yet happy energy... we are all here because we want to be... I however am not there yet... the Hawk is late, or Brian lost his keys or his wife changed her mind about picking me up. I fidgeted and drank my coffee calling the Hawk to no avail. They pulled up 5 minuted before I had decided my wait threshold was over.

I jumped in as we tooled to down town Nashville and were dropped of as near to the start as possible. It was already warm, I noted the sky - it looked like it was going to be one of those brilliant warm days perfect for most everything... except marathons. I shook it off prepped in the park and broke away from my compatriots who were a few corrals back.

I always pee in Centennial Park before the marathon, usually I don't have company- but today I had plenty, of both genders, we all sort of looked up awkwardly. Portapotty lines are for more serious calls.

I got to the start in corral one, and after the national anthem, we were off. I felt smooth and calm- this was all business. The miles clicked by and I made sure to drench my Fleet Feet Nashville Cheetah spotted yellow race jersey at every aid station. My plan was to pre-cool as best I could. It was going to be a scorcher. I cranked out mile after mile in the 6:30s and felt like I was still holding back.

The bands and crowds melted with the orange peels and music from my ipod, I was now in the rhythm of the race. The first part of the race behind me, I set my sights on the 2nd portion - basically an out and back to a non descript part of town heading toward Metro Center. Here the crowds are minimal and a runner must run... in some ways alone. I like it it's a great chance to click in ever further. I remember thinking - this is my home, I know these streets I know everything about them I can do this. This... for me was a fairly modest time goal - I am no road marathoner- I wanted a 2:50 or somewhere south of 3 hours for a PR.. I had certainly put in ths miles and speed work - all I needed was everything else to not go completely wrong HA!

Coming out of Metro Center at the turn around I noticed a thin crowd ahead of me, I thought it odd. I also noticed some very accomplished runners struggling. I caught several of the and passed them heading to the bridge. One bald runner, who was obviously a strong marathoner, stepped up with me as I made my pass, I knew we had a mile climb to Nashville Running Company -where my wife and boy would be waiting with a Red Bull at about 18. I asked if he wanted to work the hill together and we did, like 2 cyclists taking turns - we alternated lead and worked until we came upon a struggling runner. He was bent at the waist and spittle dripped from his lips, but as we passed he wrenched himself up and joined pace. He held until I saw Julia and my boy and then disappeard.

Seeing them was like a shot of adrenaline- I grabbed the Red Bull and shouted and smiled, I love you!" The streets of East Nashville dogged and cut left as we now were descending to 5th St. where we would begin our final push. My watch had crapped out, (as usual) so I now ran on feel- when I realized it, I burst into laughter. I knew this was a good sign. Early in the race I prayed for Christ to give me his heart for the run... I did not want to be afraid of the pain. I felt the heart of a lion as the miles clicked on inside my chest as I began to feel my body heat up. As I passed the aid station for mile 20 I found myself shouting, "salvation in Christ alone: and holding up a single finger to anyone who would look my way. Oh yeah. It was on.

I passed 2 more runners on the out part of the stick of the lolly pop - the final part of the marathon - Shelby Bottoms Park. I entered the park and was now starting to overheat - my legs were hot and my breath was no longer controlled. I kept digging and passed 2 more runners on the backside of the park.

Dan Sheehan- a man who shows up at the most opportune times, he had been at mile 19 or so. He jumped out shaking his fist and telling me to go. Dan is one invividual I can point to who helped me get into running in the first place.

Out of Shelby Bottoms I saw mile 23 and heading to 24 I recall a moment of intense clarity - and an inner voice - "OK now let it go... let it hurt." And hurt it did as I stopped holding any reserves pounding the pavement, raking my constitution for extra give. I could see a female runner a quarter mile ahead of me. She was rolling as was I. I recall thinking, I am gonna try to catch her, but then a quick thought of "what are you crazy this HURTS" I dug in as I saw her start to weeve back and forth across the heat waves on the pavement. We were less than 2 miles from the finish. I took the hard right back on to 5th Street which meant the last climb of the race and I began to notice the gap was closing. Near the crest Dan Sheehan emerged again. All I remember is he held up 9 fingers, look right into my eyes and said "Ninth". I was ninth? What, I shook it off and beared my teeth and began a gutteral all out attack on the finish- I passed her on the descent and hit the shoot at a full sprint and left nothing on the table... 2:56:14, 8th overall and first Tennessean.

Thanks to Fleet Feet Sports Nashville for sponsoring me and Swiftwick for making exceptional running socks.

B and I at the finish - he ate my pretzels
from the finish tents.