Rock/Creek Race Team Member, Kathy Johns, recalls her trip from Purgatory to Heaven at Black Mountain Marathon in North Carolina

...I tend to run in the land of purgatory. And by purgatory, I am referring to the middle. Consistently I run and finish in the middle. And because I run with such a gifted group of people, they usually write the race reports and I keep the thoughts to myself. Not this time.

Black Mountain Marathon (the shorter version of Mount Mitchell, turning around at mile 12 short of the windblown frosty ascent) was the first event I’ve done since July last year, due to a foot surgery that took me out for five months. I hadn’t really planned a race schedule yet, due to just trying to figure out what I’m capable of. I saw this one when it opened last fall, but at that time I was in a walking boot and had no idea if it was feasible.

In February I found out some of my favorite running companions were going for the weekend and all running in the race. A weekend with friends, running in some heinous conditions through beautiful trails I had never experienced- irresistible. My teammate, Cathi Cannon (who I am convinced has a connection to everyone) emailed the race director to see if I could get in, and there I was, two weeks out from the event, in the throes of “race preparation”. I felt like a kid at Christmas. I already knew it was shaping up to be a great day on the trails.

Couple days out, I got out all my race goodies for the first time in months. The mere sight of my Nuun tablets made me smile. This was going to be awesome! I had already decided on my LaSportiva Ultranords (Gore-tex with gaiters), knowing that there was an abnormal amount of snow in Black Mountain, NC. Winter’s my favorite time to run, so I methodically laid out the SmartWool headband, Patagonia Capilene, Patagonia Nine Trails Jacket and my favorite SmartWool socks. I knew the apparel would treat me well- tried and tested in the wind, cold, and wet. I broke open a fresh bottle of Hammer Gel Espresso flavor and loaded my pack with the flask and a couple packs of Clif ShotBlocks.

As we headed up to the pre-race meeting, I toyed with the idea of doing the more epic 35 mile Challenge. I knew I could complete it, but also knew it could be a complete suffer-fest, since I hadn’t run over 18 miles in 7 months. I was so hungry for the feeling of epic endurance that I figured if there was a spot open, I’d take it.

Sure enough, when I timidly asked the race director, “Are there any spots open for the Challenge?” He replied, “Yeah….yeah we can get you in. Just know its cold up there, with wind gusts around 40 mph and a temperature around 6 degrees.” I could handle that, right? Suddenly I found my mental state flipped on its head. Did I have enough clothes, did I bring extra layers I could pile on? What about my food and hydration? Frantically I eyed the shelves at the gas station, wondering what else I should eat. Was I prepared? Could my foot handle the race that was now altered to include 16 miles of pavement? When my friend and teammate Matt Sims cautiously encouraged me to go out and enjoy the marathon distance, I knew that was the right decision. Suddenly all was at ease again as I laid my head on the pillow that night (except for the sound of the mice scurrying through the walls).

We woke on race morning, and it was the first time in ages that I had absolutely no nerves about running. It felt awesome. The only thing I felt was excitement to just be in the day. I felt more nervous for my teammates Natalie Sims and Cathi Cannon, knowing this was a day they had trained and geared up for. I knew they would rock it, and I was excited I’d have some down time to be there for their finish. We drank coffee and I nibbled on a Clif Bar before hanging in the car for the last moments of warmth before getting out there. It was a beautiful morning- clear, cold and sunshine.

What goes up must come down. I ate some trail mix at the top, listened to the advice of the ranger who just flat out said, “you don’t want to go up there, its just brutal. Just have fun today.” Well said. I turned around to start the down. As I started down, I put in some tunes and felt my race intensity start firing on all cylinders. Because I’m always in the middle, when I “race” its against myself. I pick a time that’s going to push it, and race the clock to see if I can hammer it home. And that’s what I did. I flew down the decent (thanks to the miracle YakTrax) and just let my legs fly. Ah, it felt incredible. I felt like it was all coming back.

Keep in mind my race bib said I was a Challenger, and they would be coming back this same way as well. I passed another runner on the way down, and she said, “Did you come all the way from the top?” Ha! I assured her I had not, and kept flying down. “No,” I thought, “If I had, you would know who I was.” That would be fellow Rock Creek runner, Krissy Moehl, who went on to win the women’s race. And I must say, with all ability to brag, she’s insanely down to earth and real as they come.

I finished strong, and pushed through the torture of the last three miles on pavement. I had pushed pretty hard, and my legs were hammered. I finished at 4:40, 9th female, and the fanfare was minimal. No one I knew was there when I finished, which gave me a few moments of reflection and ability to breathe. To everyone else, a pretty unremarkable race. My teammates Natalie and Cathi finished in 4th and 5th, respectively. I however, had run the shorter, less epic distance, in a middle ground time. A hard effort, nice time, and shorter distance. A runner’s purgatory, some might say. No extremes on this day. But for KJ, it was far from a purgatory. This day I was back in heaven. My heaven, and I loved every minute of it.