Jarmans Invitational Marathon (The JIM)

A bit of background on Jaramans Invitational Marathon: In Crozet, Virginia, there is a steep, twisty gravel road calls Jarmans Gap that goes up the side of one of the mountains. It is a kind of notorious badge of honor in the area to run or walk up and down this road because it is just killer. 2.9ish miles and 1500' feet of gain - most in the 2nd mile which is just so steep and killer it makes you wanna cry.

Justin introduced me to Jarmans not long after we started dating. It is his thing - he really loves to conquer it. We have done it quite a few times since. My best Jarman's lap is around 55 minutes - 34 up and 20 minutes down. I have never been able to maintain a run up the whole thing - it is just way too steep. 

The Jarmans Invitational Marathon (JIM) was cooked up by two local ultra runners who also have a love/hate relationship with Jarmans. The story goes that they ran 3 laps of Jarmans one summer day and were sitting around afterwards and said, "Man, we should do a marathon on this thing - do you think anyone is crazy enough to do it with us?"

Thus the JIM was born 6 years ago. They had a lot of fun with it, creating a tongue-in-cheek event whose tagline is "everything about this race sucks." They schedule it for the first Saturday in August and it starts at noon - absolutely guaranteeing misery. The medals are crushed cans, inspired by the litter that is sometimes along the road and the junk yard on it. The road isn't closed to traffic, and when cars go by you get choked with dust. 

Anyway, the JIM has become a real badge of honor among runners in the area. If you can manage to complete the JIM, you get bragging rights forever. Obviously, I had to sign up for the thing so that I can show my face among the Charlottesville Area Trail Runners and earn my street (trail?) cred. 

I'll preface my story about race day by saying I'm in TERRIBLE shape. Just awful. I have barely been running since April. I did hire a run coach and started back at being more disciplined - but that as a week and a half ago. Since April, I haven't run more than 12 miles in one go. The only thing I had going for me at the JIM was that lately I have been running a lot in the heat of day, during lunch and in the evenings - not because I'm cool or anything but because I've been too lazy to get my ass out of bed. Also, I have gained the dreaded quaren-10 so I'm not exactly light on my feet.

And here's the note on COVID: COVID rules were in effect; we had to wear masks at the starting area and at the aid stations; the water was poured into our bottle by one volunteer at the top. Participants brought individually wrapped snacks that were laid out at the aid station at the bottom and the RDs handed us what we wanted so we weren't hovering over it all sweating and breathing heavily. There were also wave starts of 12 runners each and only 50ish of us total. No spectators. 

To say I was anxious about race day is an understatement. Honestly, I went into it saying that if I managed to do 3 laps of the 5, I would be happy. I've never done more than 2 back to back. 

When we showed up, the RD (in his JIM Persona of Jimmie Rhoades) handed us our bib numbers - and mine was 23. AKA the number worn by the GOAT. We literally just watched the Bulls docu on Netflix and I am currently freshly in awe of MJ, Pippen, and the rest. And here I'm getting MJs number. 

So for the rest of this race, I kept thinking... WWMJD.

Weather wise, it was overcast (THANK GOD) at the start, and in the upper 70s. Seems ok right... except that the humidity level was hovering around 100%. 

We started in wave 2. My strategy was built on my familiarity with the road and a combo of walk/run based on landmarks that I knew. Each lap is about 6 miles. Mile 1, you run past the Chiles Peach Orchard, Kelly's Turkey Farm (turkeys scream by the way, which is unnerving), the junk yard, some trailers, and then an abandoned church marks the end of that mile. Of all of them, it is the least gain but the most sun. My goal was always to try to run as much of mile 1 as I could, until the right hand turn after the church where the climb really starts. First lap, I managed this.

Mile 2 is just the worst. It REALLY kicks in at about 2.3. This part is switchbacks and very steep. Just about everyone walk/runs this part of the course. Thankfully it is shaded. It's so steep that there are short portions that are paved because otherwise the gravel road would wash away. New this year was that one of the resident families set up an aid station for us at about 1.3 with lots of individually wrapped items, frozen grapes and peanut butter cups, water, and a mister. They were SO NICE and stayed out all day.

There are tiny parts of mile 2 that aren't as bad that I ran the first time up. 

Mile 3 is also steep as fuck, but not as bad as 2 so you're really fucking grateful when you get there. It's notable features are the cut in the trees where the power lines go up the mountain relatively flat switchback that was marked with NO WALKING ZONE signs, an estate called "counterpoint", and the place I call the "Daffodil House" which is basically a signal that you are done the climb. 

Justin and I hung together and made it to the top in decent time - 40 minutes. One wonderfully volunteer named Deb sat at the top and took photos of us all day and poured water on our heads and into our bottles. We didn't delay, filled up our bottles and started back down. 

At first, going down is a wonderful relief. At the top of the mountain it is cooler and shaded and when you get going, it feels cool and breezy. The grade isn't terribly steep so you just let gravity take you down for about 3/4 of a mile. Then you get to that middle mile - so steep going up and going down sucks almost as much as you fight to keep your feet under you and not pitch forward.

The end of the steep grade is marked by a right hand switchback and a power station. There's just a little over a mile to go and it's very runnable. Justin said to me, "now it's just a road race" and that echoed in my head for the rest of the race.

The only little issue with mile 6 is the small hill next to the turkey farm. Lap 1 it doesn't seem like a big deal. It will be later.

Justin and I finished lap 1 together, in 1:06. Not bad at all. We filled up water, took some gatorade, and I put salt tabs in my pocket. 

The start of lap 2 was rough for me. Justin dropped me pretty quickly - I was having major nausea. I'd eaten an egg, sausage, and cheese biscuit pretty early in the morning and was having major regrets and wished I would just puke. (No such luck.)

One nice thing about the JIM is that because you're doing laps up and down this mountain, you get to see everyone else. The leaders are coming down while you're going up, and there's a lot of encouragement and comradery among the runners. 

Justin was on his way down lap 2 when I was nearing the top. At the bottom, I saw him again as he set out on 3. I was feeling ok but not great at this point. I felt I could finish the 3 laps that I'd pegged as my goal. I drank Gatorade, had a few chips, and took a salt tab with water. 

Lap 2 took 1:17. Again... not terrible. I had anticipated that I would be 5-10 minutes slower each lap.

The sun came out at the beginning of lap three, which made the humidity that much worse. But honestly, the first mile or so of that lap felt better than the previous. My stomach had calmed down and I did a good mix of run/walk until the abandoned church. Then during second half of the middle mile I suddenly was not good anymore. Not at all. Everything hurt, I was tired, I was nauseous, and I just wanted to sit down. I took many pauses and just stood in the middle of the road. At one point, there are a few gravel pull offs/shoulders and I decided to sit down there for a few minutes. 

To better illustrate my crash, here is a comparison of mile 3 times for each lap:

Lap 1 - 15:14

Lap 2 - 18:39

Lap 3 - 23:35

I was still determined that I was going to finish three laps, so I got up and kept going. Justin passed me on his way down as I continued mile 3 up and I told him that this would likely be my last lap. He said he wasn't feeling awesome either and would probably hang it up too. 

As soon as I crested the top of Jarmans, I asked for a plastic bag because the only thought in my head was I need to lay down immediately or I am going to pass out - and I didn't want to lay on the gravel. The great volunteer (Deb, I learned later), gave one to me and I was down immediately. The weakness, dizziness, nausea and exhaustion hit me all at once. Deb, the angel, got a towel from her car and let me lay on that. She asked me if I had been using salt (yes), drinking enough (yes), if I needed anything (no... I just need to lay here). 

I laid flat on my back and closed my eyes. More runners crested, refilled their water, and continued their Jarmans journey. Eventually, some people reached the top on their 4th lap. That is how long I laid there. There was no food at the top, but Deb offered me some pickle juice (I couldn't consume it, even though I tried), a salt pill, and her personal blueberry stash. I listened to the music blasting from her portable speaker and to the comments of the others runners. Apparently I looked a lot like death; many checked on me. I just said I needed a little rest. I dozed in and out, in fact. I kept checking my watch and saying ok... five more minutes and then I'll get up. It was exactly like laying in bed in the morning and repeatedly hitting the sleep button. And honestly, I didn't even feel bad about it. 

However, I knew the only way to be done was to get up and go down the mountain. I was not going to have someone have to drive up to fetch me and then ride down passing the other runners. That would be the ultimate embarrassment. 

About 20 minutes into my naptime, another runner crested and took a short break as well. When he got up and went to start down, I decided I would try to go with him. I didn't want to go down by myself, in case something happened (I passed out or fell or had to sit down and couldn't move anymore), and I figured a 20 minute break was quite enough. I got up and shuffled about 50 yards downhill before I said NOPE and went right back up to the towel and lay down again. I felt far too unsteady on my feet. I told Deb I wasn't sure now if I was going to make it back down. But I wasn't ready to call it quits.

So I laid there a while longer, watching the time tick by on my Garmin and thinking. 

(This is where WWMJD came in)

I lay there thinking about the guy who was doing this walking, with hiking poles, because he had a stroke a few months ago, but was determined to do the JIM.

I thought about the fact that I had #23 pinned to me, and MJ would do whatever necessary to accomplish what he said he would (you know... like take a nap in the gravel at the top of a mountain during a race...).

I ate a pickle. Deb put a cold cloth on my neck. 

I started feeling better and told Deb I was gonna go for it, and would tag along with the next runner who started down. This next runner happened to be two runners - John and Dipak. John was hyped and full of big talk, even at the top of his third lap. He'd done the JIM before and for him, finishing it is a the highpoint and major point of pride in his year. This was Dipak's first and he was not having fun (to put it mildly) but was determined. We set off today at a very slow downhill trot. I told them I just wanted to make it down to the bottom and that three was my goal, so I'd be happy. John was having none of that, while Dipak was supportive. 

During the middle mile the guys started to take walk breaks, but I was getting a second wind in a major way. I pulled away from them and as the downhill continued, I felt better and better. At the point where Justin had told me "it's all a road race from here" I was humming along again and already thinking that I wasn't done after all. Near the abandoned church, I saw Justin coming toward me. He was going out for a 4th after all and said he had also come to check on me because he heard I wasn't doing well. I told him I was feeling better; he said to walk back and turn it in because obviously the humidity was wreaking havoc on me and completing 3 laps was respectable. 

At the Turkey Farm, some of the runners who had seen me laying at the top were starting their fourth laps and many were surprised to see me on my feet. Many of them shouted their support, surprise, and encouragement. One said, "Wow, I'm surprised to see you on your feet - I just told them at the bottom that they might want to send someone up to check on you."

I checked in with the RD at the bottom. He was also shocked to see me, and especially see me coming at him with pep in my step. 

Lap 3 time: 2 hours, 11 minutes. 30(ish) spent taking a break at the top.

At this point, I was a 70/30 split on whether I would continue - really learning toward at least getting 4 done. I sat down on my cooler, drank Gatorade, and ate another bag of chips. 

I mulled what to do. 

I'd come this far, and I was feeling better. Much better. I still had a few hours until the cut off. With any chance of a respectable TIME blown up from my nap at the top of lap 3, there was no pressure to do this fast. I just had to do it. My body, surprisingly, didn't really hurt. I have never DNFd a race. I wanted to proudly and legitimately wear my sweh Jarmans Marathon Shirt (sweh is Jimmie Rhoades speak for sweet... I think). 

I was wearing #23. WWMJD?

MJ wouldn't quit. Neither would Pip. I was thinking about the "Migraine Game" during finals when Pippen had the terrible migraine and kept getting back onto the floor.

I'm not MJ or Pip. But I am Kathryn. And Kathryn does not quit.

So, I did something I never do. I put on my aftershockz, dialed up my really old Run playlist, grabbed a bottle of Gatorade for the road, and started walking. When I passed Jimmie he said "You're going back out??" and I yelled, "I'm not dead yet!" over my shoulder.

I decided that I would finish this thing - and I would do it by walking up as fast as I could, and running back down as much as possible.

And so that's what I did for laps 4 and 5. As Justin passed me on his way down from 4, he was shocked. "What are you doing??" he said. "Why are you still out here?"

"Because I'm no mediocre bitch!" I yelled back (it was the song that happened to be playing on my playlist). But I meant it. 

Walking up Jarmans is not quite as difficult as run/walking up it, but it is still really dreadful. Mainly because it takes so.much.longer. I was encouraged though, by the runners coming down the mountain. I cheered on the leaders who were on their final lap (and envied them). More folks expressed amazement as they saw me coming up and couldn't believe that I had gone out for another lap. Everyone had written me off as a DNF... except me.

Deb was shocked to see me at the top. I thanked her profusely for taking care of me, got some water refilled, and wasted no time starting back down.

Deb took this photo of me at the top of lap 4.

When you're going up Jarmans, the only thing you can think about is how much you would rather be going down Jarmans. 

The same is true for when you're going down Jarmans. At first it is a relief - for about .75 miles. Then you hit that steep section and your quads are screaming and your toes inside your shoes and everything else and you just wish you were trudging up again instead of barreling down/fighting gravity. 

I guess that's just part of the "fun."

With my walk up/run down strategy, lap 4 took 1 hour 35 minutes. At the bottom, Justin asked if I was going to do 5. 

"Uh, yeah!" I said. As if it was even in the realm of possibility that I wouldn't finish this thing. Those who had already finished cheered "UNO MAS!!!!" when they heard me say I was going for the final lap.

This time, I switched up my shoes before heading out again. I restocked on my salt tabs and again took a Gatorade for the road. At first, Justin thought about joining me but decided against it. So off I went again to trudge up one more time and back down.

By now it was around 7pm. The weather was getting nice (nice being relative, of course). It was still humid but the sun was setting and the breeze was kicking in. The main issue for me during lap 5 was the mosquitos. The sun went down and they came out, buzzing around me incessantly. 

The walk up seemed to take forever. I had to stop a few times in the steepest portions to stretch my calves. AT this point my feet were hurting too, but not overly so. The parade of runners coming down the mountain had slowed to a trickle. One named Bill stopped on his way. He is an older dude who had been chugging along the whole time. When I was walking, he passed me and told me "chin up girlie, find that second wind!"

When he stopped on his way down he said, "I have to tell you something young lady. What you did today was BAD.ASS. This is my 5th JIM and I've done about a million ultras and what you did was BADASS - getting up and finishing this." 

I almost cried. I just said, "Thank you so much. It means so much to me to hear you say that." 

It really touched me. 

At the top, Deb greeted me with cheers. She also said she was so impressed with my showing. I thanked her again for all of her encouragement of all of us that day. She took my photo and off I went - down the mountain for the last time.

The way down hurt... but it also was kind of surreal. I couldn't believe I had done it. I was on the last lap of the JIM. And weirdly, though my quads and feet hurt, I felt myself picking up the pace. The music in my ears gave me life as I counted down  to the finish. As I rounded the right turn with the power station, I was full on running. I passed the abandoned church for the last time; the trailers; and could see ahead of me on the little hill by the turkey farm another runner - walking. 

I decided I was going to make sure I passed him. We were probably .25 from the finish. There would be no more walking. 

I passed him, and then around the bend at the peach orchard, I could see another man ahead of me within reach. I passed him too, and went all out to the finish.

Seven Hours. 45 minutes.

Finished.

I couldn't believe I'd done it. I immediately went to my bag and retrieved my towel and laid flat on my back in the grass while Justin took my shoes and socks off. Jimmie came over and handed me a Corona (get it??) which would become my race medal. 

The last honor of the JIM is drinking your beer (I took a few sips to be a good sport - I hate beer) and then stomping the can so that Jimmie can pierce it and put a string through to make it your medal. My legs were so tired I had a hard time stomping mine flat.

In terms of running, this was my worst showing ever. Honestly, per my own philosophy, I am not even sure if I can say I ran this race - unless you run 50% or more of the miles, you didn't run it in my book. I may be able to claim that only because of the running I did on the up of the first lap. The walking was difficult, but it was still walking.

But this was not about running for me. This was about grit. Perseverance. Determination. Finishing the hardest thing I have ever physically done. Getting my shit together after falling apart and finding the will to keep going. Not giving up on myself. 

Honestly, it might be the proudest I've ever been of myself. 

That night I never wanted to lay eyes on Jarmans again... but if I'm honest, I'm already planning to do it again.

I like how you can see my nap at the top of lap 3. Haha.

The Case for the Selfless Race

One of the things you often hear about running is that it is an individual sport and for the most part, I agree. On race day, victory or defeat lies solely in your own legs and mind. There's no pitcher to throw a strike out, no quarterback to rely on for a miracle toss, no goalie to make the amazing save. Just you, your body, and your brain to get it done.

I've spent the better part of 2018 focused on my own running goals: in March, my first trail half; in April, a half marathon PR; and last weekend, a PR and 15 minute BQ at Monumental Marathon. 

All gave me a huge feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment, but none hold a candle to this past weekend when, for the second time, I had the privilege to pace the 2:00:00 group at the Richmond Half Marathon.

You see, while running is indeed an individual sport, there is no denying that along the way, we all get help from others. From training partners, from coaches, from family, from other runners we meet on race day, and from random strangers who we see for 2 seconds on a course as we run by. And many people look to a pacer to help settle their nerves and guide them to a personal best, a Boston Qualifer a first time finish at a certain distance. 

I won't ever forget Stuart - the amazing pacer who helped me to my redemption BQ at Wrightsville Marathon in 2016. It is no exaggeration for me to say that without him, I wouldn't have done it. And in large part, he is the one who inspired me to try my own hand at pacing.

Arriving to the corral wearing a pacer shirt, you feel a huge responsibility to the people around you. These people are pinning their hopes on you and putting their trust in a complete stranger to help them achieve goals that in many cases, they set months and months ago and have been working toward since. 

Corral DA with fellow pacers Kevin and Eric

Weirdly, for me, the weight of responsibility to others is energizing. I can't pace myself worth a damn, but when I know there is a group of runners relying on me, it is a whole different story. It's almost freeing to not be inside my own head, worried about my own performance. My only thoughts are centered around what can I do to make sure these guys achieve what they want to today. How can I help distract them when they're struggling; how can I make sure they keep going; what self-depreciating story can I tell to make them laugh and forget that they're running; what can I say to inspire them to push that much harder in the last two miles? How can I give them the confidence to keep going?

This year, we had a large group of strong runners with us. We spent the first miles setting the comfortable easy pace, telling jokes, learning about the runners with us, handing out advice both serious and silly (serious: look at at the ground right in front of you when you're going up a hill instead of at the top of the hill. silly: alternatively, pick a pace booty in front of you to stare at instead.)

Mile 3 along Broad Street

As we made our way through the course, my fellow pacer Eric and I could sense that we had some really strong runners with us who were capable of picking it up for the last two miles. We conferred with our other two group leaders and they agreed to keep even for the 1:59:30 target while Eric and I would drop the anvil at mile 11 and take whoever was feeling good with us. 

I ended up with a half marathon virgin Jay, who I had been checking on like a mother hen throughout the race, and a group of about 5 more who dropped the pace in a big way. As I did last year I collected more runners as I went, encouraging all those around me to push it to the sub-2:00 - maybe a bit too enthusiastically as I was too busy yelling at everyone else to watch my feet and stepped in a pothole around mile 12 on Grace Street. I nearly bit the pavement, but recovered thank goodness.

As we flew down the 5th Street hill to the finish, nothing was more exhilarating than watching my runners cross that line in 1:56 and change. And nothing better than the sweaty hugs, high fives, and first bumps from dozens who came through as I waited for Eric, Sonja, and Kevin with the main body of the group to come through. So many thrilled as they finished their first, or PRd in a huge way. 

What an honor to play a small part in helping them get there. 

What freedom and joy to get out of my head and run for others.

Post race with fellow pacer Kevin. Success!

Rebooting

2017. What a weird year of unfinished business. Both of my marathons were decided long before I started training for them; holdovers from 2016 that took 18 months to put to bed. 

After the disaster of Boston, it took me a long while to get my groove back. Until Labor Day weekend, to be exact. It was that weekend when the second toenail on my right foot - which had gotten damaged during Boston - finally gave up the ghost and fell off. And with that toenail, a lot of the weird baggage that I'd been carrying around about my failure in Boston seemed to finally take a hike too. 

(Yes, I realize that sounds completely crazy.)

Going into Marine Corps, I felt good. The goal was a 3:35, which based on how the last two months of training went, should have been achievable. Unfortunately, just like in Boston, the day was warm. Things started out ok but everything came apart at mile 20 on the overpass from hell. I submit that the last 10k of MCM is the most miserable 10k in all of marathoning. I held it together better than I had in Boston and finished in 3:52:26. Another disappointing race in 2017. That race is a one and done for me. 

After that, Kit and I toyed with the idea of going to Delaware in early December to run the Rehoboth Beach Seashore Marathon. Neither of us was happy with Marine Corps and wanted redemption. We made a deal that if we could run 18 miles at race pace at the end of November, we'd do Delaware  and we did it. But barely. The thought of running 8 more miles at that pace seemed impossible for both of us and the last thing either of us needed was yet another disappointing marathon in 2017. So we didn't run Delaware and for the next month +, we kind of putzed around aimlessly with no plan. 

No plan meant no motivation. No motivation meant a lot of hitting snooze on the alarm clock and not running. I was burnt out and uninspired.

So, I made the decision that I was not going to run a marathon in the spring of 2018 - the first time I haven't run a spring marathon since I started marathoning. Instead, I decided to focus on the half marathon - tackling my first trail half in March and then focusing on a road half PR in April.

Per usual, Kit joined me in the adventure and we created a blended 14 week training plan that included long runs on the trails until the trail half, gradually building in speed and tempo road work then shifting to all roads in the 5 weeks between the races.

It took me a while to get my groove on the trails. I'm not by nature a great trail runner; I am cautious with my footing and not confident enough to let loose and go, especially on downhills. For the first few miles I am completely a mess and out of my element; by mile 5ish I finally settle in. It took a solid month for me to start to gain confidence and feel like I was making good time on trails. The great thing about the hybrid plan that we were running is that after a weekend on the trails, we felt like we were flying on the roads.

At the beginning of March we ran a small trail race called the Solar 10 Miler. The weather was beautiful, the field was relatively small, and the trails were not terribly technical. After holding back for the first 4 miles, I turned it on and ended up finishing as the first woman, 10th overall. It was a fantastic confidence booster going into the my half marathon - the Pocahontas Trail Fest on March 17. 

The race is held at Pocahontas State Park, which is nearby and where Kit and I had spent most of our trail time. We had done a dress rehearsal of the course a few weeks before, so I knew exactly what to expect. The first four miles are spent running around a lake, with some gentle hills. After a long uphill at 5, the race plateaus essentially until the last mile when you enter a very hilly and more technical single track section. 

My primary goal was to finish in under 2 hours. After the dress rehearsal I realized that that goal was probably a bit too conservative, so in my head I aimed for a 1:50 and a hopefully a top three in my age group. 

What I ended up with was a 1:46:56, 5/79 women, 15th overall, and 3rd in my AG. I was very very happy with that finish and with how I ran the race in general. I learned a lot about myself as a trail runner; primarily that my biggest weakness is downhills and that I can really open up on the flats and make up ground. Typically there aren't many flats in trail running so obviously I need to work on those downhills. 

I also learned that while trails can be fun, I am a road warrior at heart. So, I've been happy to be back on the streets for the past few weeks, really pushing with some tough tempo, speed workouts, and fast long runs. All of the trail training has translated into strength and speed on the roads; I am running faster and with less effort than ever before. For the first time ever, I successfully completed a 3 x 1600 speed workout hitting every single target, and because this is half marathon training, the target was lower than ever before too.

There have been rough weekends when all of my friends are out running marathons, BQing, and setting PRs. Watching all of their achievements makes me itchy to run a marathon. But I don't regret taking the spring off from a marathon training cycle and focusing on new things instead. I needed the break - physically and mentally. 

Now, having just completed the toughest week of the training cycle and with two unofficial training run half marathon PRs under my belt, I'm feeling confident and looking forward to my half marathon PR attempt on April 22. 

You might also I've revamped ye olde blog. I thought maybe a new look and new title would help me get my writing mojo back, much like a new goal has helped me in my running.