13 June 2014
Remember what is was like when we were kids
(particularly those over 50), roaming down the highway in the family car on the
way to some unknown destination? The
never-ending pavement markers passing by; the imperceptible changing
landscapes; the endless sound of the car’s tires rolling over the pavement; the
driver trying to find a new AM radio station because the current one was fading
in and out; and the squabbling with a sibling.
The folks in the front seat told us we were going
someplace exciting. To me, it was skiing
in Utah, Disneyland, Sea World or some other theme park that was exciting, but
since I was young, I didn’t know what excitement awaited.
We would insistently say, “Are we there yet?” They would in all likelihood reply, “We’re
almost there!” With the building
anticipation, sometimes it would seem that “almost there” would never come. Now that I’m all grown up, I can pretty much speculate
where I am at any particular moment and don’t have to ask that age-old
question.
Our week-long road trip began with a non-stop Southwest
Airlines flight from LAX to Milwaukee’s General Mitchell International Airport
(MKE). Our first destination was
Williamson, WV, basically a ten hour drive from Milwaukee. In an effort to defuse an otherwise long trip
and incorporating some sight-seeing along the way, we planned to spend the first
night at Red Roof Inn in Greenwood, IN just off I-65 south of Indianapolis. We planned to incorporate three marathons in
three different states – Hatfield-McCoy (WV); Charlevoix (MI); and HFM Maritime
(WI).
The light traffic out of Milwaukee was a godsend. However, not long after we crossed the Illinois
state line into the Chicago metroplex subsequent to the merge onto the I-294 beltway
around downtown Chicago, traffic became very congested. Of course, the causative effect was the
advancing PM peak.
Interstate 294 is one of the many toll freeways in the
midwest that houses four toll plazas each setting drivers back $1.50, if paying
by cash, $0.75 if using an I-Pass. Since
we were one of the few unfortunate motorists traveling this freeway without an
I-Pass, it cost us six dollars to get around Chicago.
Maybe it would have been easier to stay on I-94 through
downtown, but the traffic reports on 50,000 Watt clear channel WLS AM 890 radio
said traffic was jammed up through the downtown sections as well, but would
have saved us six dollars. I don’t know
which way was more expedient, but one thing was mutual, it was slow-going
though the city no matter which highway we took.
In the for-what-it’s-worth department to any radio
aficionados, WLS is an acronym of “World’s Largest Store” in reference to the
early broadcast transmissions by Sears, Roebuck & Company in the 1920s. I digress.
It was an easy on easy off rest area with a number of
restaurants, petro stations, shops and kiosks.
The north and the south side of the oasis spans I-294/I-80 where
visitors may lounge or eat over the freeway watching the endless traffic pass
beneath them. The quick meal and rest
stop was all we needed to fuel our desires to complete the drive down
Interstate 65 to the Indianapolis area for the night.
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| California Chrome |
After a delicious lunch in one of Louisville’s quaint
pizzerias, we made our way through the University of Louisville campus on our
way to Churchill Downs, in the meantime, stopping at White Castle to sample one
of their signature burgers/sliders. I
thought they were tasty, but my wife didn’t see anything special with them. White Castle is non-existent in California –
I guess it’s akin to our In-N-Out Burger chain.
As I entered through the visitor center doors, several
people gathered around a television monitor mounted on a wall were watching a
rerun of the May 2014 Kentucky Derby. I casually
walked over and mentioned to them just as the horses left the gate that
California Chrome wins. No one seemed
amused at my little wise crack. I
thought it was funny though.
In 1981, Dan Fogelberg wrote and sang the brilliant song Run for the Roses commemorating the 100th
running of the Derby. The lyrics vividly
portray the birth of a “wobbly-kneed” foal, growing up and the “fire” that is
“born in the blood” of a champion horse.
Three-year-old thoroughbreds get one “chance in a lifetime, in a
lifetime of chance” to prove themselves in the Derby. It is the hopes and dreams of the owners and
trainers, the expense and investments in raising a foal hoping that one day the
horse will be great and win the Kentucky Derby.
The song has since become the unofficial theme for the Derby.
President Ronald Reagan once said in 1987 as he once headed
to his California ranch, “I’ve often said there’s nothing better for the inside
of a man than the outside of a horse.”
Winston Churchill is credited with another oft-repeated horse quote, “No
hour of life is lost that is spent in the saddle.” Because of a childhood riding experience, I
am not a huge fan of riding horses, but I do believe riding horses is a secret
to happiness for most people, my wife included.
In an effort to quash my fears of the size and strength of these amazing
animals, I’ve been on horses on occasion and I realize I should get over such qualms. Riding horses or just watching a horse in a
field is just the tonic needed for a stressful day. Again, I digress.
Nearly four hours after leaving Louisville, our arrival
into the city of Pikeville greeted us with a torrential thunderstorm powering
its way through the area. Shortly after the
turn-off onto U.S. Highway 119 north towards Williamson, the dark cumulonimbus
clouds produced such intense rainfall and hail. Seeing through the windshield was virtually
impossible, even with the wiper blades on high speed. In California, severe weather is an anomaly and
witnessing such extreme precipitation is something to behold and experience.
Driving at a mere 10 mph at times was too fast, and in
some instances, I had to stop on the highway while the rain subsided enough to once
again see through the windshield. The solid
rock escarpments of the highway cuts were teeming with fast moving waterfalls sheeting
over the cut banks and onto the highway.
And then, it seemed the rain stopped just as fast as it started and the grey
skies quickly parted giving way to blue sky.
The aroma in the air is truly refreshing after a lightning storm.
A very hot and humid afternoon greeted us when we arrived
at Belfry High School for packet pick-up and pasta dinner. It was evident that the thunderstorm we
experienced earlier also swept through the Belfry area, maybe not as intense
though. It was there when I thought
about the “three Hs” – heat, humidity and hills. I particularly did not want the hot humid
conditions of Saturday spilling over into Sunday’s marathon. Hills I can deal with, but it’s the heat and
humidity that wreaks havoc on my body.
Built in 2005, Belfry High School, home of the Pirates, is
an attractive looking campus with all the modern amenities for students and
staff, even the football field was made of synthetic turf.
Because this was my tenth state, I officially qualified
for, and became a member of, the 50-States Marathon Club. The rules of the club state if a marathon
begins in one state and finishes in another, the runner may count either state
as a state run, but not both. I counted
this marathon as run in West Virginia; however, I could change my mind over
time.
Held in the school’s auditorium, the highlight of the day
was a skit with two actors dressed in period attire (each clutching a double
barrel 12-guage shotgun) showcasing Devil Anse Hatfield and Randall McCoy. The skit held my attention and enriched my
mind behind the major points of the family feud. It was quite an educational and enlightening
experience. It wasn’t until 2003, the
Hatfield’s and McCoy’s signed a truce officially ending their long-standing
feud.
Our hotel, Holiday Inn Express, was 35 miles up U.S. 119
in the city of Logan, WV. For dinner
that evening, the pasta dinner wasn’t enough, we tried a Bob Evans
restaurant. I indulged in some comfort
food of pot roast, string beans and mashed potatoes and gravy.
The H&M Marathon began in the small community of
South Williamson, KY (aka Goody) and finished in Williamson, WV. The first thing that grabbed my attention was
the flood wall around Williamson. In
response to major floods in the 1970s and 80s, U.S. Army Corps of Engineers
constructed the wall in the early 90s to protect the city from the devastating floodwaters
of the Tug Fork River. The wall
incorporates floodgates at major access points into and out of Kentucky and
when locked, form a solid barrier against floodwaters. It kind of reminded me of the walled city of West
Berlin during the cold war, but without the barbed wire and guard posts.
The blast from a 12-guage shotgun echoing through the
parking lot signaled the start of the race.
Approximately 700 runners began their 13.1 or 26.2-mile journey out of
the parking lot and south on U.S. 119 toward Toler to the cheers of spectators
and well-wishers.
From Toler, the course took runners through the coal
camps of Hardy and into the heart of feud country. Numerous monuments and signs indicate home
sites, graveyards and locations where someone was killed, hanged or stabbed.
After passing through Hardy, the course turned from flat
to a gradual incline at the foot of Blackberry Mountain. The one mile hill climb up Blackberry
Mountain is the portion of the course everyone seems to talk about. It’s called, “The hill at Mile 7.” Yes, it was a slow but steady climb for me,
but all-in-all, it wasn’t as bad as what others say.
I rejoiced as I made it to the summit. Now, I knew that I could make up for lost
time on the way down with free energy.
Well, the way down was much steeper than it was going up. Some segments were so steep, getting out of
control was a real possibility, so I had to hold back and save my thighs.
The temperature was starting to heat up at this point and
the sight and sounds of Blackberry Creek alongside the road spawned a thought I
should jump in and cool off. It was very
enticing.
The halfway point of the race was in the historic
community of Matewan, WV, the site of the Matewan Massacre across the Tug on
the West Virginia side. It was a
charming little town surrounded by a Corps of Engineers flood wall like the one
in Williamson. A large mural was formed
into the concrete depicting the Hatfield-McCoy feud.
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| Matewan Flood Wall |
The second half of the marathon continued out of Matewan and back across the Tug just like
the Hatfield and McCoy families did during the feud.
Once back into
Kentucky, runners turned right onto River Road along the upper shore of the Tug. After a couple of miles of paved roadways,
the road turned into a narrow gravel road through some forested and shady
areas. The running was a bit more
treacherous from the previous day’s rain and puddles. All the foot traffic from the runners ahead of
me created slick muddy hazards to everyone.
Wet muddy shoes seemed to be the norm.
The gravel road terminated
at the 9-hole Tug Valley Country Club property where runners continued along a
short footpath to one of the fairway’s golf cart path. Once on the golf course property, the many golfers
were seemed unfazed with the runners and I wonder if they were inconvenienced by
our presence on their cart paths. I was watching
for the presence of stray golf balls and was listening for the word “fore!”
In less than a mile,
we crossed back into Kentucky once again.
The temperature was heating up fast and the sun was out in full
force. The heat and the hills became
real at this point in the race, but at least the humidity was a non-issue.
The final eight miles
or so were wide open with a trifling of shade now and then. A group of spectators gathered at the top of
an embankment asking runners where they were from. I heard shout-outs of Pennsylvania, Texas,
and Kentucky. They cheered and said,
“Yay, Kentucky!” When I begrudgingly said,
“California,” all I heard was, “Oh” and crickets. I surmise that Californians don’t hold much
of a favorability rating. I totally
agree as I have a burning desire to leave California and move to a more
conservative state.
It was easy to forget
about Blackberry Mountain at Marathon Mile 7 as I came up on the notorious hill
at Marathon Mile 23. The sun was
blazing, it was hot, there was no wind or shade, my legs were tired, and in my
head, I knew the finish was near, but that damn hill was in my way.
It was a struggle and
the cruelest hill of them all, but all I could do was walk combining some run
segments in between. My plan was to run
in the sun and walk in any shady areas, but that strategy quickly went out the
window – I was spent.
Once at the top of
the hill, it wasn’t long before the course turned back onto U.S. 119 (or the
four-lane as the locals refer to it).
Runners pass by several fast-food restaurants, including the Dairy Queen
(DQ). I heard that it’s a tradition for
runners to go in and buy an ice cream cone to celebrate the last mile. If I only knew about that, I would have done
the same (if I carried some cash with me).
However, I was too close to the finish line to think about that, and
besides, the heat of the day would have melted that ice cream all over my
hands.
The final mile seemed
like it took an eternity before turning onto Second Avenue crossing the final bridge
over the Tug and through the flood gate into downtown Williamson. The finish line was straight ahead near the
historic Coal House. I had enough steam
to pick up my pace and was greeted back home by, who else, Devil Anse and
Randall McCoy each holding their shotguns.
I finished this
challenging and historic run in a time of 4:59:30.
Age graded score: 46.38%
Age graded time: 4:33:27
Following a quick
change of clothes, we drove back along the first half of the course for a few
pictures and to reminisce about our thoughts as we ran by various points of
interest.
Then it was back
through some West Virginia back roads to Logan for a shower, some lunch/dinner
and rest before driving down I-65 to Beckley in the morning for the next phase
of our road trip to see some coal mining and the New River Gorge for a zip
lining adventure. After that, it was on
to Charlevoix in northern Michigan.
What made this race
amazing was the people I met, from the race staff to the volunteers to the
other runners. It was the beauty of the
region and being immersed in the history of the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s. It was facing the challenge of a tough course
giving the best I had that day – the ups and downs of Blackberry Mountain, the accomplishments
and the struggles of the heat and what I appreciate about being an endurance
athlete.
Make no doubt about
it, this is a tough and challenging road marathon, with some trails mixed in,
but don’t expect a PR. It can be
miserably hot and humid and during the second half it’s easy to wear out if you
started out too fast or haven’t paced yourself accordingly. The hill at Blackberry Mountain was not as
difficult as many say, but the hill at Marathon Mile 23 can be considered cruel
and unusual punishment.
Travel to this great spot on the map is not an easy task
– but well worth it. The nearest “major”
airport is Yeager Airport (CRW) in Charleston, WV, about 85 miles away. Expect to drive much further if flying into
any other major city such as Louisville, Cincinnati or Charlotte. There are a few hotels and resorts in the
immediate area, but the personnel at the Williamson and Belfry fire stations generously
make cots available for a nominal cost and is popular with many runners.
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| No feudin', just runnin' |
