Saturday, April 6, 2013

McKay Hollow Madness - a 25km trail race


     Each year for the past 7 years a small band of die-hard trail runners gathers at 6am in mid-March on top of Monte Sano Mountain in the Monte Sano State Park, Huntsville, AL for the running  of the McKay Hollow Madness 25km Trail Race.  No trophies. No medals.  You just get a t-shirt – IF you finish.  Unfortunately many don’t.  


     McKay is a grueling race. The map above is far from accurate but it gives you an idea of the run.   The close up below shows the last ¾ of a mile or so. If you look near the label “Blue Spring” you will see the dashed line of the trail.  Follow it as we moved north up McKay Hollow and up the escarpment to the finish (small red flag).  The topo elevation lines are 20’. You will notice that there are places where the lines are so closes together that it is difficult to differentiate them.  For that last ¼ of a mile or so, we are literally climbing up the side of the mountain.  The elevation change is 700’ to 1480’. That’s a 680’ climb in less than 0.25 mile.

     This year it had been snowing or raining all week. It was a combination of the two when I arrived at my daughter’s home the day before the race.  When I arrived at the shelter house, that served as race headquarters and had been draped with tarps to keep in some of the heat from the fireplaces and propane heaters, it was in the mid-40s and raining heavily. 
    I must admit to being a wimp when it comes to cold. I already had a cheap pair of Walmart compression tights under my good race compressions.  On top I had a compression shirt, long-sleeve tech and long-sleeve tech warm-up.  On the way to the starting line I put on a pair of warm-up trousers and a fleece jacket.   I left the jacket with the volunteers at the 5 mile check station.  If you’ve read many of my posts you know that I’m a serious advocate of trail poles and I wasn’t going to do this race without them.  Last year they had been invaluable and saved me from serious falls several times.  They would be even more important this year.
     Despite giving a rather low-tech appearance, the race is really very well organized and run.  There are check-points at 5 and 10 miles.  If you don’t arrive within the time limit you will be pulled from the race and given a ride back to the finish-line.  The race started on time and we headed off through the rain toward the north side of the mountain where we would start our first descent.   There would be at least three major descents. That means there would be at least three major climbs from between 7-900’ to as high as 1550’.  None of them, thankfully, is as steep as the last climb on the map above.  Of course there were many ups and downs. 
     My trail poles (the Lexi for which I paid 80 Francs – about $100 – in Switzerland in 2009) have paid for themselves many times and did so again.  We run for close to a mile on gravel and asphalt roads then suddenly take a sharp turn and a very steep descent.  The descent is difficult in dry weather. It was still raining hard.  Throughout the race the rain and fog made visibility so poor I felt like my glasses were steamed up.  Thing is . . . I wasn’t wearing glasses. 
     Just before we arrived at the first descent a woman behind asked me about my trail poles.  I told her that I wouldn’t run trails without them because they provided safety and stability. They might slow me down a bit, but I’m not fast in the first place. I’m more interested in getting to the finish line in one piece.  She seemed interested when a man, also right behind me, said “I thought about bringing my poles but I was afraid someone might make fun of me.”  He laughed.  I couldn’t see him so I don’t know whether he was teasing me or serious. I didn’t care. Moments after his statement we made the sharp right turn onto the single-track trail.  This is where the race gets serious and one of the more dangerous spots.  In good weather it is dangerous because we’re all still running in a group. The sudden switch to single-track trail and the closeness of others makes tripping over other people a serious problem. 
     I was not prepared for what I saw when I made the turn.  As I looked down the mountain all I could see right before me were bodies mostly lying on the ground. Some were still, but most were sliding out of control in the mud.  There was crying and cussing.   I dug my poles into the thick mud as I felt my feet begin to slip.  I looked around.  I could get off the trail.  I knew that the leaves were probably just as slippery but I’d get away from the mass of fallen humanity that would eventually bring me down if I stayed on the path.  As I stepped off the trail those behind me started sliding out of control by me. I have a technique that I’ve developed over the years to control my speed on a steep slope and allow me to move quickly.  I switched the  grip on my poles and started my zig-zag descent. As I avoided the bodies – asking “are you okay?” as I went by – I heard the lady who had been asking me about my poles yell “Go Mr. Sticks!” and laugh.  She and the others we sitting behind me in the mud.
     From that point on it was nothing but rain and mud. Mud and rain.  There are several points on the trail where you have to climb over or crawl under large boulders, traverse narrow muddy ledges high above the valley floor below and ford swift rushing streams.  I was amazed that I arrived at the 5 mile check-point 35 minutes ahead of the clock, and at the 10 mile check-point 30 minutes ahead. Of course last year I was almost 50 minutes ahead at the 10 mile check-point.  Just past the 10 mile check-point I encountered a young woman going the wrong way.  We were on what had once been an old logging road. It was still a muddy mess and looked more like a stream than a trail, but it had been gravel at one point so the mud wasn’t as deep.  I asked the woman if she needed help.  She said “no, I’m making up distance.”  It wasn’t until she caught up with me a short while later that she explained that she had missed a turn at the beginning of the course and inadvertently cut off 0.3 mile. The old logging road seemed to be the safest and easiest place to run the missing 0.3 mile.  I told her that no one would have thought less of her if she had just accepted her mistake, but she said that it would bother her.  She was having a lot of trouble.  Even though I have no doubt at all that she would be one who would fly past me on any other day, she had lots of trouble keeping up.  I’d keep an eye on her when she would fall far behind.  Normally this wouldn’t be any problem but I knew that I was losing time especially as we got into long stretches where the mud was over our shoes.  Because of the rain I had stopped early and double-knotted my shoestrings. Now I was worried about what that would do to time if I had a shoe sucked off by the mud – which was happening frequently during this race. 
     About 3-4 miles out from finish we had to cross a swift stream that fell very steeply down the mountain. The bottom of the stream consisted of large limestone slabs which, covered with mud, were extremely slippery.  On the far side we had to make our way up a 4-5’ wall of mud.  If you fell at this point, or in the stream, you would likely find yourself a couple hundred feet down the mountain and in a world of hurt.  I could see the slip and slide marks of those who had gone before us.  Just past the point at which you get out of the stream was a very narrow ledge of solid mud that tilted toward the stream several feet below. It was there that I made a bad mistake.  I could hear that the young woman was just reaching the stream.  I knew that she was tired, struggling and unfamiliar with trail running.  I was concerned about her getting safely across the stream.  One thing about trail racing, even in the best of weather, you must constantly concentrate on what you’re doing.  I didn’t.  While I was crossing the narrow ledge I allowed my concentration to shift to the struggling young woman.  I went down hard against my left should. (That’s the one with the worst arthritis spur)  The pain was extreme but in that flash I knew that if I didn’t want to end up very quickly at the bottom of the mountain I needed to act. I rolled over so that I was sitting on my butt and planted my poles below me.  This was why I use $100 poles. They took my entire weight and for a moment I lay suspended just above the stream. 
     Then we hit McKay Hollow.  A portion of the hollow has a nickname which I believe is “Mud Mile”. McKay Hollow is horribly muddy in good weather. Last year it was bad. This year was worse.  After having already run almost 15 miles you slog through sometimes ankle-deep mud.  Then just when you think you’re about done in from the mud you look up the almost perpendicular mountain wall that is your way out of the valley and to the finish line.  That’s where, on the map above, the 20’ elevation lines are so close together that they look like they’re one wide line.   I was tired from the mud but I was glad that my legs didn’t hurt and the arthritis in my hips and knees was behaving.  On the way up the escarpment I kept looking back to make sure that the young woman was safe.  The climb out was dangerous and, even having run Eagle Rock in the Ozarks, this was the only time I’ve done such a climb where I was actually a bit frightened – for myself and for the young woman behind me.
     I could hear the people cheering for me at the top of the mountain.  They can see you coming up the mountain before you can see them.  The rain and fog was still so heavy that I couldn’t make out my family waiting for me until I was almost upon them.   Just before you get to the top of the mountain there is a waterfall that you must cross.  You cross just feet from where the water plunges into space on its way to the valley floor almost 700’ below.  The area had been so dry there was almost no water going over the waterfall but the rocks were slick.  One last obstacle.  I looked back to be sure that the young woman was still okay.  She was a lot farther behind me but she wasn’t giving up.  The climb was taking everything she had.  I was standing there watching her, thinking that I had crossed the finish line, when someone said “hey, you need to get across the finish line.”  I couldn’t see it for the rain and fog.  The race took me 30 minutes longer this year and there were only a handful of people behind me. But that's okay. I finished, which always makes me happy - especially at McKay Hollow! 
     I  was looking for the beer (which is being proven to be a very good recovery drink) when the young woman crossed the finish line.  She almost collapsed on the steps of the shelter house.  There were physician’s nearby so I just asked what she thought about her first trail race. She’s definitely a trail racer and I know I’ll see her next year. “That was fun,” she said. 
     It was fun, despite the rain and mud.  Those are to be expected occasionally in a trail race.  McKay Hollow Madness is a tough race in the best of conditions, but it is a wonderful challenge for those who love to do trails.  I’m just hoping that some year before I can’t do it any long, the weather will be good enough to enjoy what must be marvelous panoramic views. Of course, I guess I could go back during nice weather and just enjoy the trail.  My daughter and her family live at the foot of the mountain a few miles away from the park.
     If you love a challenging trail race you want to consider McKay Hollow.  It’s put on by the Huntsville Running Club. Just Google ‘McKay Hollow Madness’.  Be sure to prepare by doing plenty of miles on the hardest trails you can find.  I don’t know about this year, but last year only about 70-80% of us finished.  I trained by doing a  lot of upper body strength training at my club, miles and miles on a Stepmaster and  a treadmill that can do a 40% grade (lots of time on a 15% grade), then as many runs a week as possible of 10-20 miles on the hardest trails near me.  For people in the Evansville area, I recommend Audubon State Park. You have to run some of the trails 2-3 times but you can get over 10 miles without too much trouble. It has some real butt-buster trails and there’s almost no place flat.  The other recommendation is The Two Lake Loop at Hoosier National Forest’s Celina-Indian Lake.  You can do  13-30 miles depending on how you do the loop.  They have a race there in June which they tout as being the most difficult trail race in the mid-west. It isn’t as rugged as McKay - I did it last year in only 20 minutes longer than a street race of the same length - but the hills are long and it is tough.  Audubon is good for training the constant steep hills and Two Lake Loop is best for distance endurance.
GREAT RUNNING! 
Russ


No comments:

Post a Comment