Cloudsplitter 100 (2022)

Running through the finish line of the Cloudsplitter 100 after 31 hours and 42 minutes of brutally steep climbs and painfully rocky descents was one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. All 100 milers are hard, but not all 100 milers are equally as hard. This one just so happens to be really hard.

We arrived at the Norton Expo Center in Norton, VA, at around 7:15 am on Saturday, October 15th, 2022, ready to run and in great spirits.

My crew consisted of my wife, Christa, and my two friends, Phil and Tony. I was in good hands.

The musket shot went off at 8 am, and we began our journey out of Norton and into the mountains. It was about a little less than a mile of road running before we made our way onto the trail system, and then for the next 2.5 miles, we were basically going straight up.

From miles 3-7, we were running on a variety of gravel and overgrown double-track trails, still mostly going up but with some rolling sections as well. The fall colors were spectacular, and the cool air felt great as we worked up a sweat early on.

At mile 7.5, I made it off the trail and onto the road to High Knob Tower, where I reached the first aid station and briefly met up with my crew. They informed me that I was a few minutes ahead of my plan and ensured I had everything I needed. I didn't hang out here too long—it was early, and I was moving great.

From High Knob Tower, we had to drop down the other side of the mountain on somewhat technical singletrack as we made our way to the next aid station. This section was frustrating because of all the rocks, creek beds, and rolling hills, and I knew that it would force me to slow down later in the race when we'd be coming back through here.

I made it to the Edith Gap aid station at mile 15.5, still feeling good and not wasting much time. The volunteers at that aid station were positive, energetic, and helpful.

We continued down the mountain, this section presenting us with fewer rocks and creek beds but steeper hills and more overgrown double-track. After a big downhill, we got some great views of the lake as we made our way through tunnels of green forest.

I got to Bark Camp Lake aid station at mile 19.7, almost an hour faster than my original plan. My crew was a little concerned about my speed, but I explained how I was feeling awesome and was taking it easy on the steeper and more technical spots. I decided to take a few extra minutes to eat and sit down. Those few extra minutes flew by, and then I was back to it.

From here, we had to do just one out and back to Little Stony aid station, which was about 5 miles away, so 10 miles total for this section. I began to slow down a little during this stretch because I knew I was making great time and because this section was chock full of rocks, creek beds, and downed leaves. This was the first out and back of the course, though, so it was awesome to see the front runners pass by on their way back to Bark Camp Lake and the people behind me after I got to Little Stony and started my way back to Bark Camp Lake.

I arrived back at Bark Camp Lake, where my crew was already waiting for me. I was 28.5 miles into the race at this point, still ahead of my plan, so I decided to take some extra minutes here to eat, chat, and get some caffeine in me before beginning the trek back up to High Knob.

I left Bark Camp Lake and started the climb, first to Edith Gap (mile 32.75), where the volunteers continued to bring positive vibes and good energy, and then to High Knob Tower for the second time. The section from Edith to High Knob was quite tough. The rocky footing in the creek beds was taking a toll, and the steep singletrack back up to the summit was more strenuous than I wanted it to be.

I arrived at High Knob Tower (mile 40.5) around 6 pm, and my crew could tell I was struggling a little bit. I tried to keep the positivity, but the sun was starting to go down, the air was getting cooler, and I wasn't looking forward to having to go back down to Bark Camp Lake and back up to High Knob Tower once more. Although I had the advantage of knowing what was ahead of me in this particular section, the thought of doing it all over again sounded awful.

I decided to take more time at this aid station to eat, put on some warmer layers, and get myself ready for the night miles. I was pretty stoked that Phil was also going to pace me for the next 12 miles, making the trip back down to Bark Camp Lake a little less lonely.

We left High Knob and started heading to Edith Gap. We slowly navigated through the rocky sections with our headlamps, choosing our footing wisely and finding interesting things to talk about. Eventually, we heard the volunteers at the aid station before we saw the lights through the trees. We didn't waste much time and continued our way down to Bark Camp Lake.

The downhills were beginning to catch up with me—my quads were starting to burn, and my knees were feeling sore. Phil was feeling the effects of the trail as well, so we took our time, and I accepted that I was beginning to lose the margin of time that I had banked early on.

We made it to Bark Camp Lake (mile 52.5) for the final time at 10:35 pm—20 minutes ahead of my original plan. Phil's pacing duties ended here as he slipped back into crew mode, and I elected to take a few minutes, knowing what was ahead of me. The plan was for me to make my way back up to High Knob for the final running of this segment alone, and once I made it to High Knob, I would pick up Tony to pace me for a considerable stretch. So I ate as much as I could, put my headphones in, and started to do some solo night work.

I wanted to make it back to High Knob (mile 64.5) in 3 hours, but it took me closer to 4. I got my ass kicked a bit and slowed down drastically. When I arrived, Phil and Christa were asleep, and Tony was ready to jump into things with me. I was tired, my legs were toasted, and my food options were beginning to look unappealing. I needed a boost, and I was hoping Tony's presence would help with that.

We left High Knob and started heading down to Devil's Fork Gate. We hadn't been on this section of the course yet, so we had no idea what to expect. All we knew was that the elevation profile for the race showed this part being very steep, and the comments from runners making their way back up as we were heading down were somewhat concerning. I asked a runner, "is it as bad as they say it is down there" to which he replied, "it's worse."

We got to Devil's Fork Gate (mile 69), and the two volunteers running that station were essentially zombies. Those guys needed to take notes from the crowd at Edith Gap on how to run an aid station properly. But we were still grateful to have them there. We moved quickly through this one, still wondering when things would get more difficult.

Then it happened. We got down to the loop around Devil's Bathtub and began what was easily the hardest section of the course. The climbs were super steep, the trails were littered with rocks, and there were so many creek crossings. This 7.75-mile section from Devil's Fork Gate to Devil's Fork Parking Lot took us hours. I was moving so slowly. My legs were wrecked, and I was feeling so low. I wanted to quit. The thought of having to do this loop a second time seemed impossible, and I wasn't sure I would be able to find the energy and will.

Finally, we made it to the Devil's Fork Parking Lot aid station (mile 76.75), and I was defeated. But the sun was coming up, and they were cooking grilled cheese sandwiches. I ate a grilled cheese, drank some hot broth, chugged some soda, and stretched my legs quickly. Tony was doing a great job of keeping me on task and positive.

The climb out of Devil's Fork Parking Lot back up to the start of the Devil's Bathtub loop is over a mile straight up the mountain. Once you get to the top, the realization sets in that you need to go through all of that hell again, and it can feel overwhelming. Luckily for me, the mixture of grilled cheese, broth, and cola in my belly became a potent fuel source. I began moving faster, started digging out of my low, and found myself laughing and running with Tony again. It was incredible, but it was also somewhat short-lived.

We made it back to the Devil's Fork Parking Lot for the second and final time, where I ate more grilled cheese and drank more soda. Then, back up the mile climb up the mountain. This time was a little easier, knowing we wouldn't have to do that section again, but we were also aware that we'd have to continue climbing to get back up to Devil's Fork Gate (mile 88) and even more to get back up to High Knob Tower for the final aid station (mile 92.5). It was slow going, but we managed to mix in some run/walk opportunities along the way. I was beaten down and delirious, but my will to succeed was rediscovered.

When we got to High Knob Tower, Tony was relieved of his pacing duties, and I was reunited with my crew for the final time in the race. All that was left was the last 7.5 miles of downhill back to the Norton Expo Center. I promised myself I would use whatever gas I had left in my tank to run this downhill section as fast as possible. The pain in my legs was unreal, but it didn't matter if I was running or walking—they hurt either way. So I committed, and I pushed as hard as I could. I unlocked another door within my mind during this final stretch.

I emerged from the forest and back onto the town's roads; before long, I could see the Expo Center. I kept pushing with everything that I had. I could hear the cheers of my crew, the spectators, and the volunteers, and I could see the finish line. I ran straight through the finish and quickly exploded into a burst of emotion, pain, and relief.

I did it. I finished, earned my buckle, and now I was done.

What an experience.