The Old Dominion 100-Mile Endurance Run is the second-oldest 100-miler in the country – steeped in history, rich in tradition and iconic in status. Why did I think I could run this 100-mile course through the Shenandoah and Massanutten mountains, with this 24-hour cutoff for the coveted silver buckle and 28-hour hard cutoff for a finish? What the hell made me think my 64-year-old legs and body could carry me around this iconic course in that kind of time?
As the gun went off and we took our lap round the horse-racing track and back through the gravel lot that dumped us out onto the paved road leading us out of town, I hung with my fellow Charlottesville Area Trailrunners (CATS). About the fourth or fifth switchback up to Woodstock Tower, we separated a bit and settled into our comfortable paces to get us through the first 50k. “Don’t run faster than 6 hours getting into Four Points 1,” was the order from Sophie Speidel, local legend and ultrarunning savant who so graciously volunteered to crew me and several other runners. Sophie had run sub-24 in this race in 2018, and crewed many friends and fellow CATS to sub-24 finishes over the years since. She had given this advice to all of us over the weeks leading up to the race and during a couple of training runs we’d done on the hardest parts of the course, “There’s lots of runnable gravel roads, you’ll want to push the pace early, but don’t,” was her directive.
Photo courtesy author
I was right on my 24-hour pace as I rolled into Four Points 1. David Horton was there, and as I walked toward my crew, I heard him say, “Steady running, Steve, good job.” Hearing that from Horty was reassuring – I was right where I belonged. Sophie and our floating CATS crew greeted me with fist bumps and high fives, and had my drop bag ready, mashed potato pouch out, cold watermelon and turkey avocado wraps ready.
Sure enough, about 4 hours, one Duncan Hollow and two aid stations later, I rolled back into Four Points 2, still on my steady pace. My pace chart I’d left with my crew had three scenarios: 1) “Having a day” (sub-24), “Meh” (sub-26) and “Well Shit” (28 hours). I’d later learn that between my baby food pouches of mashed potatoes and my pace chart titles, I had provided my crew great entertainment for their afternoon in the mountains. Leaving Four Point 2, Sophie told me, “Give yourself permission to slow down a bit – you’re in no hurry to get to Edinburg Gap.”
The climb up the gravel road to Mountaintop aid station was warm and dusty, and the crew there had just the ticket for instant soul revival: a small, dorm-style refrigerator plugged up to a small generator on the back of a pickup with a freezer full of ice pops—an “Icee Oasis” out in the middle of the mountains. I refilled my bottles, grabbed a banana, a cookie and an ice pop for the road and headed out.
Elizabeth Furnace, mile 75, was the second medical checkpoint and where I picked up Sophie as my safety runner. It was the gateway to Botts Trail and the infamous Sherman’s Gap. We’d also covered this section during our training camp, so I pretty much knew what to expect. Except now I’d be running it in the dark and with 75 miles on my legs. Old Dominion doesn’t allow pacers, but due to the difficulty of the section and the time of night, they allow safety runners for the 12-mile section between Elizabeth Furnace and Veach Gap West. Sophie was ready and waiting when I rolled in. With my poles deployed, Sophie was hot on my heels as we threaded our way up Botts towards Sherman’s.
It’s crazy to be running out in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night and all of a sudden, pop out into these small party villages – aid station volunteers and crew are awesome. This was where the safety runners’ duties ended – they’d gotten us through the most technical section of this course in the night, and now, hypothetically speaking, it was smooth sailing back into the finish. Sophie had certainly done her job and more, helping me safely navigate the last 12 miles and pulling double duty before that as my and others’ crew. She let me know as I filled my bottles and grabbed a banana and chips that I had plenty of time to go sub-24, but I would need to keep moving and not waste any time.
Photo courtesy author
I finally entered the track and started that last turn towards the finish. I felt a flood of emotions, the biggest of which were thankfulness for the friendships made through ultrarunning, this race in particular, and relief and surprise that I had actually run 100 miles in less than 24 hours. As I approached the finish mat and looked at the clock, it read 23:17:14. With the help of Sophie, my fellow CATS and VHTRC runners and crew and all of the volunteers, I’d achieved my goals. I had endured, I had not died and I was right where I belonged.
Results | 100 miles