Kilkenny Ridge Race 50 Miler, September 14, 2019.
Registering
I first heard about the Kilkenny Ridge Race 50 & 25 miler shortly after the inaugural race in 2018. My first thought was not “I must do this race!” but I tucked it in the back of my mind, and sometimes during my daily run or hike I mused about the race’s logistics — as they theoretically might apply to me.
One early morning in July, I realized, quite fiercely: “I must do this race!” What an opportunity: A supported 50 mile trek with 15,000+ ft elevation gain through a remote range of the White Mountains in glorious September, practically in my backyard — and with a generous 24-hour time limit. I signed up that day and the preparation began in earnest.
Preparation
A nagging on-off hamstring niggle has prevented any sort of fast, flat running basically since Boston 2018, so my year has already been filled with hiking and elevation. After signing up, I took a half-dozen or so trips to the White Mountains to practice the long, sustained 2000+ ft climbs and descents not available around Boston. We also took several family summer hiking trips, including our Mt Garfield adventure as well as an overnight trip to Galehead Hut. On weekdays, I headed to the steepest trails in my local conservation lands and did many up-down repeats.
My leg muscles reached epic stoutness, but I wanted to experience the actual Kilkenny Ridge trail to verify the trail wasn’t crazy technical and allowed for periodic jogging. So one weekend in late August, whilst Mr. P and Little Boy were vacationing in flat Florida without me because I couldn’t take time off work, I got a cheap hotel room in Jefferson, NH for a Saturday night and spent two days exploring the southern end of the Kilkenny Ridge, starting with Mt Waumbeck. (Mr. P and I had hiked Waumbeck ten years ago as part of our 4000 Footer quest; we had also done the other 4000 Footer, Mt Cabot, but had spent no time on the Kilkenny Ridge trail.)
I learned so much that weekend, with a total 40 miles of training on the race course. To my relief, the trail was not very technical — at least compared to some other White Mountain trails. However, the trail is very overgrown in spots. Because the trail is quite narrow in spots and partly obscured with ferns and brush, trekking poles are tricky to use but there was no question I’d carry them for the whole race. I had a basis on which to plot my pace, and estimated a 20 hour finish, so that became my goal.
Pre-Race
The 50 miler started at 5am Saturday morning. I left work early on Friday afternoon for the 3.5 hour drive. In addition to all of my running gear, I had a bunch of camping stuff, having made a reservation at the Percy Lodge Campground in Stark, NH. It’s 10 minutes from the start/finish and the race endorsed it for lodging on their website. When I checked in with the gracious proprietress, there was another runner checking in who was staying in the lodge. I instantly envied her and wished I had sprung for a room (later, I would end up running a portion of the race with that woman, during which I had a brief fantasy we’d finish together and she’d let me use her shower in the lodge, since the campground shower didn’t seen very inviting in the middle of the night. But I finished before her and was actually not in the mood for a shower.)
My campsite was visually secluded from the other campers, but not audibly secluded. After setting up my tent, I boiled water over a camping stove for a freeze-dried spaghetti dinner. By 7:30pm I was in my sleeping bag, listening to car doors around me slam as other runners arrived at the campground. I did sleep, fitfully. I woke up at 11pm having to pee; at first I thought someone was shining a light on my tent, but it turned out to be the enormous full moon. If only it hadn’t clouded up and gotten rainy for the race — having that moonlight would have been amazing.
I dozed until 3:45 am, when I boiled more water for my coffee and quickly prepared. The biggest disaster of race morning was my anti-chafe balm — Squirrel’s Nut Butter — had turned rock solid. It was exasperating; I blame myself for getting suckered by the trendy, expensive “all natural” brand that evidently freezes, instead of going with the mass market brand with its non-natural ingredients that prevent it from turning solid. Instead of spending one minute applying anti-chafe, it took ten minutes of rubbing hard pieces of Squirrel’s Nut Butter all over my sensitive areas. After that, I had to hurry, and arrived at the starting line with only five minutes before the pre-race meeting.
The Race: Miles 0-25
The 50-miler started promptly at 5am at the northern terminus of the Kilkenny Ridge trail at the South Pond Recreation Area. My goal was to be at the 25-mile halfway turnaround in 9 hours, giving me 11 hours to return to South Pond in mostly darkness — meaning I’d finish at 1am. (The race cut-off was 5am – 24 hours).
The 50-mile race started at South Pond and then turned back around at Starr King (Mile 25) to finish at South Pond. The 25-mile race started at Starr King and finished at South Pond
Mile 1 was runnable but I barely jogged and drifted towards the back of the pack. Miles 2-4 climbed to Roger’s Ledge, which provided a stellar view of the partly cloudy sunrise. Some runners stopped to take pictures. I should have stopped too, because this would ultimately be the only clear view for the entire race, as the sky was quickly clouding over, with light rain predicted later in the day.
We passed the scenic Unknown Pond and then the first aid station, where I refilled water and grabbed some cookies. In my pack I had Oreos and Nutella & PB English muffins, but I was appreciative of the sparse aid station fare – the volunteers did have to hike in all of the supplies, after all.
At two points during the race, runners are required to take a spur trail to an amazing view and mark their bib using an orienteering punch as proof. The first spur trail for the 50-milers is The Horn, a peak about .3 roughish miles off the main trail. It was completely clouded over, with no view and strong wind. Soon after we hit another peak — The Bulge — and then on to Mount Cabot.
Yet another cool thing about this race is it’s the same weekend as Flags on the 48, a September 11th memorial hike that organizes groups to raise a temporary flag on each of the 48 White Mountain 4000-fters. As I approached Mount Cabot, I could hear the massive flag flapping in the powerful wind. The group on Cabot had done an amazing job using ropes to keep the pole erect. I paused to solemnly contemplate the flag, while discretely shoving Oreos in my mouth.
The descent off of Cabot to Bunnell Notch was long (~1.5 miles), rocky, and a bit wet. I owe a great deal to my trekking poles — they slowed me down, but ensued safe and consistent movement. The climb to the Terrace Mountains (North, Middle, South) was unmemorable, except for the glimpses of fast 25-mile runners beginning to pass us (going the opposite direction). The second bib punch was on Terrace Mountain summit and I got there at the same time as the first 25-miler female, who was flying whilst being quite cordial. I was also leap-frogging with some other 50-milers. I chatted with one person who was nauseous and couldn’t eat, and another person who was not happy with the rugged terrain. It sounded like a number of runners were not already planning to continue past the 25-mile turnaround, which is the most sensible place to DNF.
Coming into Willard Notch AS#1 (Mile 15)
The second aid station was Willard Notch at Mile 15, where I grabbed some potato chips and bantered with the nice volunteers. This is also around where I passed the bulk of the 25-milers. My energy and spirits fed off of the encouragement I gave to them and got back in return. Smiles are so powerful during ultras.
Old Lady Pace
Aid Station
After aid #2 was the long, steep climb up North Weeks (3900ft). During the climb I caught up to a nice young man. He let me pass him and then stuck to my heels. It was his first ultra ever. We hung together for a good 90 minutes, chatting about the race, mountains, running, etc. When we neared Waumbek, I felt like I wanted to move a little faster on the flat parts so I jogged ahead. (I saw him later near the turnaround and he accused me of ditching him — I hope joking).
At around mile 22 I passed the wooded summit of Waumbek — where a large group of Boy Scouts from Flags on the 48 were assembled in the misty clouds around their flag — and then Starr King (obscured view), where I caught up to the woman I saw checking into the lodge. We stayed together the entire 2.5-mile descent to the 25-mile turnaround point — right on pace to reach it at 2pm, which was exactly my goal of nine hours! We passed many day hikers headed to Waumbek (as well as fellow 50-milers who were hiking up from the turnaround).
Such a long descent. I watched anxiously for a large abandoned well on the side of the trail, which signaled the trailhead was close. Even when we hit the pavement, we had about half-mile on downhill road to get to the actual aid station (crossing RT 2, where there was a policeman to stop traffic). I was beyond excited to have access to my drop bag, in which I had a small fluffy towel to dry my wet feet and my favorite pair of socks for the night.
At the turnaround aid station (Mile 25), they told us we were 2nd and 3rd females (the 1st female was literally hours ahead of us). I was pleased about this, because I thought I had a great chance at finishing on the podium; thanks to my careful pacing, it was likely that I’d only pass others and not be passed. (This was half correct. No one passed me in the last 25 miles, nor did I pass anyone).
I spent about 10 minutes in aid — drying my feet, changing my socks and shirt, eating pizza, refilling water, checking my gear for nighttime, etc. The other 3-4 runners did not look close to leaving when I was, so I grabbed another slice of pizza for the road climb back to the trailhead, thanked the volunteers, and started the 25-mile journey back to from where I started — as 2nd female, which was bonkers.
The Race: Miles 25-50
Now I had to climb back up that long descent – 2.5 miles with about 2000′ elevation gain. My legs felt okay, but I had to control the effort to keep my heart rate low. As I climbed, I passed descending runners headed to the aid station — the rest of the back of the pack, some in rough shape, others just taking their time.
I reached Starr King and then continued onto Waumbek, the trail then becoming relatively flat. My goal was to reach Willard Notch AS (Mile 35) by 6pm. I wanted to cover as much ground before sunset as possible. The descent down North Weeks is quite runnable, and though I wasn’t exactly running I made good time, arriving at 5:45pm to Willard Notch. The volunteers and I chatted as I chomped on potato chips; all race communication was done by short-wave radio, so they were able to update me about the number of runners still in the race, etc. Before I left I put on my headlamp, though it was still light, I would need it soon.
From the aid station was the climb back up the Terrace Mountains. It’s not a long climb but it’s steep, and it was around then that my stomach went south. By the time I was on the long climb up Cabot (mile 37ish), it was dark, windy, and raining a little. I moved steadily and with focus, trying to ignore the nausea.
At the top of Cabot (Mile 39) is a one-room cabin. As I passed the cabin, I was greeted by a short-wave radio operator standing in the cabin by an open window. Until he asked for my bib number, I didn’t realize it was a safety check. As I tried to eat some Oreos, I thanked the older man for helping a bunch of crazy runners. “Oh, I’m crazy too, just not about running, but I’m crazy too,” he said, and we laughed as the wind, drizzle and fog whipped around us.
From the summit of Cabot, I had about 11 more miles to go. The rain was tapering off but my nausea increased and persisted. By the time I reached the aid station near the Unknown Pond (Mile 43), food was not an option. But the convivial volunteers who were camping out for the night lifted my spirits and renewed me with purpose.
I started the climb — the last climb — back up Roger’s Ledge feeling pretty good, but that short but steep rocky wall just killed me. My legs suddenly felt like lead and my heart rate was off the charts. There was another older man with a short-wave radio doing a safety check at Roger’s Ledge (Mile 46), and for the first time I couldn’t muster enthusiasm for a volunteer. In fact, when he told me there were four miles left, I think I glared at him, even though I knew full well there were four miles left. I did thank him for being there, but I was at a major low-point.
The last four miles were a death march. The nausea was overwhelming and my body had just had enough. Not only did I swear off ultra running, I think I vowed never to hike in the White Mountains again.
And the moths. The moths. They could not resist my headlamp. It would start with one or two sizable deep-woods moths, fluttering around me — which were easy enough to ignore — and then suddenly I’d have a dozen moths trying to fly into my face. I learned to stop every minute to look behind me, to throw the moths off course. That gave me about ten seconds of blissful moth-free movement until they found their way back.
Finally I neared South Pond. I knew I was close when someone at the finish line spotted my headlamp and gave a few cheers. I wish I could run but I had zero motivation. Eventually I finished at 12:30am to the applause and cheers of a handful of people. One of the RDs (Kristina) told me I was second female and handed me a large moose trophy. It was a little embarrassing to receive such an amazing trophy given my relatively slow time, but at that moment I really wanted a trophy. And ramen.
I grabbed a cup of ramen and sat on the South Pond beach, where several volunteers and runners were gathered around a fire. And then I saw the full moon amid passing clouds. “Oh look,” I said. “It’s clearing up.”
“Just in time!” someone said, with a sympathetic laugh.
