Graveyard 100 Race Report

Unlike other races, Graveyard 100 was not something I thought about for months. It wasn’t a race that I stalked online last year and dreamed about completing. It is one of those things that just seemed to fall together. My Facebook friend Amy suggested it last summer. It was something she was interested in doing as her first 100. It looked interesting to me, but not enough to travel to North Carolina. It seemed to far and logistically complicated.

Fast forward a few months. My friend Mark was recovering from a significant illness and posted online that his Graveyard bib was up for grabs. I couldn’t help but to look at the airfare and wonder what it would be like to run 100 miles in the Outer Banks. The airfare was rather reasonable and Amy’s request rang in my head. I talked to Brady about it and he thought I should do it. He thought it was a challenge I wasn’t only ready to take, but should take on. I asked and Mark arranged to transfer his bib to me.

When the confirmation email came in I got that feeling of excitement at a new opportunity and fear at the challenges it would bring.

Graveyard is unique. Runners are given the opportunity to run crewed or solo. Crewed means that they have people supporting them from their car for the entire race. They also have the option for pacers. Solo is exactly that - alone. No crew. No pacers. The extra kicker is the only options for food are at miles 21.4, 42, 62.9, 87, and the finish. Yep, you read that right - 4 aid stations and no crew. For financial and other reasons (mainly that there is a screw loose in my brain) I chose to run solo. I really wanted to see if I was able to run without help. I really wanted to prove that I could. I was scared out of my mind!

I told Amy that I was running and she jumped on board. Something is obviously wrong with her too because she agreed to run 100 miles, sans crew, on asphalt, for her the first time. Kudos for her for that amazing courage!

We discussed logistics and decided that we would share hotel rooms and Amy would drive me from Norfolk to OBX and back so I wouldn’t have to rent a car.

For the 6 weeks or so that I planned for this race, the drop bags and logistics of how to best run self supported dominated my brain. I tried to think of what I would need and when I pack accordingly. It was a daunting task and my family helped to talk me through it.

Wednesday before the race I made labels for my food bags and packed a supply of sweet and salty snacks and various flavors of GU. I put a fresh shirt, socks, and shoes in each bag except the first one because I was confident I could run 42 miles in the same outfit and shoes. In miles 42 and 62.9 I included cold weather gear. Gloves, hats, and long pants. I wasn’t sure what the weather would bring, so I was prepared for everything. I also included my chargers in both bags for the Garmin and my phone. I also made note cards with the details of each station (location, cut off, drop bags) to help keep me on track if I got too confused or tired to keep things straight. I packed my hydration pack with what I thought I needed for the first 21 miles, including my headlamp and reflective gear since the race started at 5:00 am.

On Thursday morning I drove to the airport. Getting out of Denver proved to be the first challenge of the day. It seemed everyone was flying and I barely made my flight, even though I had arrived in plenty of time. The rest of the travel went off without a hitch. I arrived to 34 degrees and windy conditions in Norfolk. I got a shuttle to my hotel and Amy arrived later that evening.

Amy packed her drop bags in the hotel room Friday morning while I caught up on work so that I could be offline for the weekend. When we were ready we headed for Kitty Hawk, North Carolina for the race brief and check in.

The weather was terrible. Wind, rain, and freezing temps made for an interesting afternoon. The Pier House where the brief was held was shifting in the wind. We were blown all over the parking lot as we tried to get our bags inside. The forecast called for calm conditions over the weekend, but based on Friday’s weather, I wasn’t so confident in its accuracy.

The race brief was informative. RD Brandon was excellent at pointing out the significant details and rules of the event.  A significant issue discussed was the cut off at Bonner Bridge. The State Troopers would be there and enforce the 5:30 hard cut off. We were told that if we were not on the bridge (it started at about mile 48) in 12.5 hours, we would not be allowed to continue. I was rather confident that the time frame was something I was comfortable with, but we all know how things can go wrong in ultras. Any significant problem and all of a sudden that cut off could become my reality. One thing Brandon wouldn’t quite reveal was exactly how long the course was. He said something like, “To keep it fun, I keep quiet on that information, but I can promise you it isn’t short.” Who needs details like how far you have to run, anyway? Certainly not me :)

After the brief we had the pleasure of picking the brain of my friend Traviss from the UK. He ran the race last year and was nice enough to share his lessons learned and strategies for success. (They obviously worked because he finished 3 hours faster this year than last.)

Things didn’t go quite as planned on Friday evening and the result was that we were in bed a lot later than I would have liked. It made for a difficult 2:45 wake up. With a 3:35 shuttle pick up time, there wasn’t any time to waste. I gathered up my gear and my guts and made my way to the van. We had about a 30 minute drive to the park in Corolla and the start line. When we got out it was cold, but I was very happy to see the stars. Maybe we weren’t going to freeze to death, after all.

We checked in, they played the National Anthem, and we were off. I settled in to the run pretty well. It is common for me to absolutely hate the first few miles of every race (why short distances don’t work for me), but this was an exception. I felt pretty good. It may have been the oxygen saturation from being at sea level or that I was just excited, but it was great.

Amy and I chatted with one another and other runners. Time clicked by and we enjoyed a beautiful sunrise. Somewhere after 10 miles I noticed that I didn’t hear Amy’s footsteps anymore. I looked around and didn’t see her. Unfortunately, she was having problems with her pack and had fallen back. I was zoned out and hadn’t noticed until it was too late. With a 5 hour cut off at mile 21.4, I really didn’t have time to figure out what happened. I pressed on and prayed she was ok.

About 15 miles in a guy wearing a kilt and InkNBurn shirt struck up a conversation. We realized that he knew Colby. He said, “I didn’t know Colby’s mom ran 100s. He should blog about that.” He told me of several sources he had seen referencing Colby in a positive light and wanted to make sure I contacted him so he could pass the information on to me. I was smiling thinking of how I was on the other side of the country from my ultra friends and still running into people that know my kid. Like I have said before, it is fun to be his mom.

I made it to the first aid station in about 4:30. I had given myself a 30 minute cushion on the cut off. I grabbed more food, drank a Boost, and used the restroom. I took an Uncrustable (pre-made, packaged PB&J) and hit the road. I think I was there less than 5 minutes.

I continued to feel good. I enjoyed meeting new people and the scenery. I tried to keep track of the names of the little towns we passed, but now they escape me. I do remember Duck. It sounded like a funny name for a town.

Mile 25 brought me back to the hotel where we stayed Friday night. We turned left down a road that had a lot of wet sand and dead sea creatures. I assume they got washed up during the storm. I wasn’t a fan of this part of the course. The sand was a pain and to avoid it meant being further out in the road, which is always a bad idea. Along the course of the race most cars were very good about going wide around us, but there were some that seemed to purposely hit sand or drive too fast for my comfort level. Getting hit by a car was not on my agenda.

I did well on this leg of the race. I hit 50k in 6:47, only 20 minutes off my 50k PR. I felt good and was holding a pace I was comfortable with, even though it was getting pretty warm. I met a lot of new people. I learned about races that I had never heard of.

 The miles and hours marched on as I made my way down the highway. I met a lot of new people and shared fun ultra experiences and stories. It was fun to hear of races I wasn’t aware of. That was a perk of running in a new part of the country.

One of the challenges I have is the need to pee often if I am hydrated. I guess it is related to carrying 3 children to term or something. Regardless, it was difficult to plan opportunities to go when I was running through beach resort neighborhoods without open businesses or safe, discreet places to go. Thankfully, during most of the day I would come across a construction site or other portable bathroom. It was a saving grace, to say the least!

I made my way into aid station 2 (mile 42.4). It was awesome to see the amazing volunteers and to smell the grill they had going! They took orders for anything you wanted. I ate 2 amazingly burnt hotdogs (always my preference). I put on a dry shirt, new shoes (first ones were not working) and used their bathroom. The aid station was in a house, so it was very nice to have the option of a flushing toilet and sink to wash my hands. It’s the little things, right?

I left the aid station with a full pack and a smile. I was pretty sure the bridge wasn’t going to be an issue. I had 2 hours to set foot on the bridge and it was only 6 miles away.

I came up on a man I had seen a few times earlier. He was rather convinced he couldn’t make the cut off. I talked to him and changed his mind. He thought he had to be at mile 52, not 48 in 12.5 hours. I saw a new spring in his step and he took off down the road.

As the bridge came into sight, I was thrilled beyond words. I was so excited and relieved. I got quite emotional that I had made it. When I passed 50 miles in exactly 11:58, I was well ahead of the cut off, almost off the bridge, and knew I had 18 hours to finish the second half.

The road after the bridge was quite a challenge. Sand covered a lot of it. Some cars would slow down, while others would drive too fast and throw sand in our faces. It was not fun to deal with. As night fell, I was somewhat worried about the cold, but felt pretty good.

We had been fortunate to avoid the large puddles all day. It was always an option to go around them. As we came onto mile 62, there was a very large puddle across the entire road. The only options were through it or around it, which meant climbing a sand dune. I saw disaster written all over that, so with some hesitation, I ran through the puddle. It was freezing! It felt rather good for the first few steps, but then was so cold it hurt. The only comfort was knowing that the next aid station had to be rather close.

I sloshed down the road in my very wet shoes. I looked up and realized that a lady was running toward me. It seemed very odd, since it was about 9:00 at night and she didn’t look like a runner in the way she was dressed. As she got closer she introduced herself and said that she was there to walk me into the next aid station. Such service!

The aid station at mile 62.9 was one of the best I have ever experienced. It was in a community center building, so it was warm and comfortable. The volunteer that walked in with me got my drop bag, some hot chocolate, and potato soup. I went to work getting my feet dry and clean. The water must have been very sandy, because it was everywhere.
After I was dry and warm again, I enjoyed my soup and hot chocolate. Looking back on it now, leaving that aid station without any other hot food was a mistake. The soup was not substantial and I didn’t drink more than about 3/4 of a cup. I didn’t have the option for real food again for 24 miles. I should have had a hamburger or other substantive nutrition. Because I didn’t, the next 24 miles were not a fun experience.

I left the aid station with a new friend, Nick. He is from California also. We were together off and on all day, but had stayed together after the bridge. This was his first 100.

We made it out of the aid station rather well. We both had warm, dry clothes and full packs. During the next few miles it seemed to get more lonely and dark on the course. A few cars stopped and asked us what in the world we were doing out there. One even offered us a ride. Tempting... :)

What happened in the next few hours are a blur. I know that I was sleep walking through portions and I also know I made several mistakes. I didn’t do my usual caffeine intake and I didn’t eat. Both would result in many, many, slow miles. We were both miserable at times. It was cold and windy. We were tired and my feet felt like hammers had been pounding on them. I did my best to stay positive for Nick’s sake. I knew he was struggling to keep moving and I didn’t want to bring him down any further. I bitched and moaned silently.

The bathroom issue came up many times in the night. My bladder was extremely annoyed at me and I felt the constant urge to go. In hindsight again, I should have just asked Nick to turn away and went right there in the road. My fatigue and dignity kept me from that. So instead, I suffered between each and every port-a-potty. When I would find one it was like the heavens opened and angels were singing! Sweet relief. Unfortunately, I would feel the urge to go again minutes later. This cycle continued until I was finished.

After hours of struggle, my Garmin read that we were approaching mile 87, and the final aid station. We came across a man in a car that was a race official. He gave us directions to turn left and follow the road. The aid station was “just up there”. Well, just up there ended up being more than a mile. Boy was the negativity flowing in my head! Ugh. My feet hurt, I was hungry, and man, I had to PEE!!!

We FINALLY saw the damn aid station and went inside. This one was very small and in a tent. The sun was rising as we entered. I ate a cold hamburger and drank some Coke. I got my drop bag and pulled out my Luna Sandals. The volunteer was pretty excited to see them (he was wearing Lunas). I made his day though when I asked him to throw my Hokas in the trash. I said to him, “Anything that makes my feet hurt that bad is not making the trip home!”

We had 5 hours to go the 13 miles to the finish. I warned Nick that we could not stay long. Although 5 hours seems like a lot, we were both pretty wiped out and incapable of moving very quickly. He wasn’t happy with me, but listened when I insisted he get up out of the chair.

We made our way out of the aid station and now the road. I was not a happy camper. I had been so calorie and caffeine deficient, the hamburger really hadn’t settled well. I was sleepy. My feet hurt. 13 to go. I would make it if it killed me! At this point it felt like it was doing exactly that!

I turned on my phone to read some encouragement from Brady and Ed. They both had been texting me through the night. The sunrise was a huge boost. It is nice to put the headlamp away and to see the beautiful scenery again.

I knew that we could finish with 20 minute miles, so I was working on pacing us to maintain that or better. I had charged my Garmin along the way, so I was able to keep us going. Of course the bathroom stops and painful feet weren’t helping anything.

Nick was very quiet. I know he was digging for the strength to keep going. He was probably sick of me by now, but not willing to be out there alone. We had struggled side by side for almost 50 miles now.

As the time flew by, the miles didn’t. It felt like we were moving in slow motion or not at all. Brady started calling, worried that I wasn’t going to make the cut off. Another issue was that we really didn’t know what the final mileage distance was. I got us to speed up some, and miles 97 - 100 were an average of 17 minute miles. We were moving, slowly, slightly uphill, into Hatteras, NC.

Colby called and said something like, “Hurry up and send me a picture of that buckle, you bad donkey!” He made Nick and both tear up. The struggle was mighty, but we were doing it.

About mile 100 on my Garmin Amy texted me that “the sweeper is here. They don’t know where you are. You may be out of the race.” I was so upset. I KNEW we had plenty of time to get to the finish by now. How the hell did the sweeper pass me? How did they NOT know we were still out there? I was confused and very upset. Something must be off. We kept moving and I worried silently.

As I rounded the corner and saw a sign that read, “Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum”, I knew we were close. The finish line would be found there. I was very excited and exhilarated to know we were going to be finished soon. My old friend, my bladder, decided to make another appearance. I had to go. NOW. Fortunately for me, I saw a small boat dealership on my right and used one for cover. Our sport is so glamourous, right?

After the potty break Nick and I realized we saw the finish line arch. We decided to run it in. After about 40 miles of death marching, we were running again. For a grand total of about 50 yards. Hand in hand, we crossed under the arch in 29:24:59.

An update on the sweeper - Amy wasn’t at the finish line, so the fact that she saw the sweeper wasn’t applicable to me. He was behind us and we were not in danger of being swept. He finished about 20 minutes after us.

Thank you to Mark for the opportunity to run this race. I made many mistakes, but I learned that I could do this alone. I could travel 100 miles on foot with little more than the pack on my back. This race changed me, forever.