Grindstone 100
A Journey Through Our Most Hostile Racing Conditions Yet
The weather called for less-than-favorable conditions. How bad, exactly? Well none of us truly knew; all that was certain was that participants had to circumnavigate 105 (+/-) miles of extreme mountain terrain in less than 36 hours. Oh. And the twist? The Grindstone 100 begins at 6pm Friday, ensuring two full nights spent out on the course (for most runners), as opposed to the typical early morning Saturday kickoff.
Some miscommunication and frankly, lack of planning on my part threatened to derail my original intentions of crewing and pacing Adrien at 2023’s event. I hadn’t actually committed to joining him at the race until pretty much the day before and had to rush over to the race venue to sign my waiver and pick up my pacing bib before the start. Special thanks to Natalie for offering to share her lodging accommodations last-minute at a nearby AirBNB for the weekend - even though I hardly spent any time there, but more on that later.
I left town pretty early Friday, after packing all the rain jackets and warm athletic clothing I own into several dry bags in preparation to embrace tropical storm Ophelia, expected to hit at the absolute worst of timing.
As the newest race in the UTMB World Series events, the race expo and energy at the start line held in Natural Chimneys Park (Mount Solon, VA) was exceptional. 6pm came around in no time, and I watched the field of 300 athletes begin their journey of 100+ miles.
I went to sleep that night around 9pm with a 4am alarm to intercept Adrien on the course at mile 45. In the house we were staying, several other crew members that were supporting other runners had an earlier wake-up call and departure planned for around midnight. Needless to say, among all the commotion that night, I earned a grand 4 hours of sleep.
Due to the aforementioned storm, Adrien was a bit behind schedule according to his pace chart. We took off shortly after day-break around 8am just as the storm was picking up. Adrien tackled a 1500’ climb remarkably well, leading us to an exposed ridge with hardly any protection from the tropical storm winds.
The trees swayed, creaked and thrashed. When it rained, it came down sideways and chilled me down quicker than I could regenerate warmth. It wasn’t before long, a loud cracking sound interrupted our conversation. I stopped abruptly just in time to watch a huge chunk of tree crash through the wet leaves and land no more than 10’ away - close enough to shake the ground around me. Barely a few hours into my endeavor - and just peaking halfway into Adrien’s race - it was already evident this was going to be some of the worst racing conditions either of us had ever faced.
The rolling, semi-runnable ridge line quickly turned into a heinous steep descent straight into the next aid station: Dry Branch Gap, ironically named as such cause it hadn’t NOT been raining for several hours. Everyone was soaked, but kudos to the AS volunteers for maintaining all of the snacks within their ‘dry food’ classification as best they could.
Up next was another long climb up to one of the highest points of the course, straight into a worsening white sky of rain and wind. Adrien was climbing well, despite the conditions, and we actually passed quite a few people on this stretch. As we transitioned above 4000’ we were met with a canopy of dense fog which made the barely-afternoon timeframe feel like a dark and ominous Halloween movie set. But we couldn’t just yell “CUT” and escape the wrath we were in. The only way out was up and over Elliot Knob that was forecasted for 40-mph wind gusts and mid-30-degree chill temps.
I found myself picking up the pace on this climb trying to stay warm, until I noticed Adrien disappearing around the bends or fading too far into the surrounding fog. When we eventually reached a road clearing nearly signifying the end of this 2000’ ascent, there was not much relief. Battered by the high winds, rain and fog the only logical explanation for being in such hostility was to help Adrien finish the Grindstone 100 - us ultra runners are resilient and stubborn and we’re not gonna let a freak storm get in the way.
There was no lallygagging upon reaching the summit of Elliot Knob. These conditions were indeed much unfavorable so we tried making our way off the summit as quickly (and safely) as possible. “Oh no….” Adrien declared from behind me. “This is the section I did trail work on. It absolutely sucks.” Not yet fully aware the meaning of his remarks, I attributed such an attitude towards his entire night of restlessness and being nearly 60 miles into the race.
I was wrong. This section indeed, SUCKED. I want you to imagine being trapped in an automated car wash cycle, while trying to run down a literal staircase littered with wet, slippery rocks and boulders that shifted and wobbled like a see-saw anytime you took a step. Oh, and not to mention you’re on the side of a mountain with a huge drop off to one side. ‘Poor footing’ hardly conveys the descent from Elliot Knob. This trail in the condition we faced was borderline too dangerous for such an event, but there we were and without options but to get through it.
The next aid station was a welcoming sight - not only for having just survived one of the toughest parts of the course, but because much of this next section was a moderately-graded downhill road. After some warm food (I certainly ate my fair-share of grilled cheese) we took off. The last few downhill miles had hovered in the near 20min/mi range, so our quickened 11min pace down the road finally felt like we were back in a racing environment.
We took this road right to the next aid station, and turned back up that heinously steep climb we came down from before. Adrien was still moving remarkably well through this section as we popped onto another ridge once again getting hammered by the storm. We finally arrived back at Dowell’s Draft AS #2 after some 27 miles and 8.5 hours since I had begun. While Adrien still had 30 miles left, it was time for me to head back, try to rest and regather my things to join him again later that night.
I managed all of 1 more hour of sleep. Between the drives back and forth to the house, a hot shower and a bit of food that only marginally made up for those calories I had burned so far, before I knew it I was back out embracing the outside elements once again.
It was midnight when I arrived at North River Aid Station #2 (92 miles into the race). According to the progression of milage thus far, Adrien was to be expected around this time, but the long ascent over Little Bald Knob (and descent that followed) went much slower due to all the rain and slick mud. It was just past 1:30am when we’d eventually head out over the last ~12.5 miles of the Grindstone 100.
We started off remarkably well. This section began on a slightly uphill bridle road and we clicked off the first 5k in about 50 minutes. When the final trail section came, the grade kicked up a bit steeper and seemed to last forever. Every turn of the trail we could see more headlamps winding their way up this last mountain. While the rain had finally subsided by this point, this final uphill trail section was still muddy, slick, and taking its toll. Adrien was nearing his 95th mile and coming up on 4:00am Sunday through his second full night on the course since the race began Friday evening. By this point, I had only racked up 5 hours of off-and-on sleep and was also feeling the effects of the long weekend so far.
After what felt like eternity, the uphill we’d been grinding on finally gave way to its opposing counterpart, but relief was not yet granted. The downhill was so steep, slick and narrow, it took more energy just trying to stay upright and balanced than the negativity-sloped elevation profile implied. Surrounding runners and pacers snickered at such the challenge until we eventually arrived at an old fire road.
A few more miles of rolling double track brought us up to and past the finish aid station of the race. A surprising but much-enjoyed phone call from Adrien’s wife, Margaret, sparked the final bit of motivation for him to finish the race strong. We passed so many people, running the rolling uphills and downhills with remarkable power - at this point for already having surpassed the 100 mile buzz of his watch.
The final trail section opened to a paved road which, although seemed to extend into the darkness inevitably, was net downhill and we moved pretty quick. A trail of lights sparkled the path behind us like a string of Christmas decorations hanging from the pitches of steep roofs - a very physical reminder of how many people we had recently overtaken.
We approached the confines of the park from which Adrien began some 30+ hours ago, and a quick left threw us into the final 1/2-mile trail section before the finish. The cheering spectators were lively, the announcers: enthusiastic, and the race venue emerged with lights and cameras and full of celebrations; a scene much more indicative of an afternoon summer party instead of the absolute dead of night following such ferocious storms.
Adrien finished.
Was it the finish he anticipated given his preparation for such the endeavor? No. But in the end, a truly remarkable effort that I was so happy to have been a part of. The thing about these crazy long races, is that finishes are never guaranteed, and for Adrien to have successfully navigated such awful stormy conditions, two nights of on-course racing, and a confluence of other sub-optimal unforeseen challenges proved that he won’t give in easily. Adrien finished what he set out to complete, and should be damn proud of such an achievement, and I’m so happy I got to share a little piece of it with him.
