Yamacraw 20K: A trail run in three halves

A running post on a books blog? Why not? trail running keeps you in shape and in focus for those long nights of reading.

Our running group at the start of the race

So this past weekend, I traveled down to Eastern Kentucky to run the Yamacraw 20K trail race in parts of the Daniel Boone National Forest. The race occurred mostly along the Big South Fork of the Cumberland River, starting near the old coal mining town of Stearns, and ending at the Blue Heron Mining Community in Big South Fork National River & Recreation Area.

It was a lovely race through devastatingly beautiful country. We ran along mostly single-track trails past massive trees and enormous rock formations. We saw waterfalls and wild animals, waded through numerous river and creek crossings, and climbed up the sides of steep hills.

It was a race in three halves.

  Big rocks and waterfalls added to the beauty

It started on a frosty morning, with the temperatures hovering around the freezing mark. But the sun was rising, and the chill was already dissipating. We took off down a short road before entering the Lick Creek Trailhead. For the first couple of miles, it was mostly flat or downhill, with several metal staircases and stone steps leading to the river valley. The views were breathtaking, with small creeks crisscrossing our route. Soon, we met up with the South Fork of the Cumberland River -- wide and crystal clear  -- which meandered through the woods and kept us company for most of the rest of the run. Before we knew it, we had completed this part, and came upon the first of the two aid stations on our course.

Actually, calling them aid stations would be a disservice. They were buffets of fruits and sandwiches, chips and pretzels, brownies and homemade treats. Usually, when I travel into rural areas of the country, I often wonder what people who live in the area actually do. Now, I know: They volunteer at aid stations during ultra trail races. They peeled oranges and bananas. They offered to refill our bottles with cold water or an energy drink. They pointed out the portapotties they had brought down with them. At one aid station on the 50K race, they cooked up grilled cheese sandwiches, warning the runners to be careful because the food was still warm.

And when you thanked them for their hospitality, they were taken aback, and said, “No, thank you. Thank you for coming out here and running for us.”

Well, back to that running -- across the Yamacraw Bridge, down a road, and back into the woods. This half was a bit tougher, featuring additional water crossings, including one through Rock Creek in which the water was thigh high, and required a rope strung from one bank to the other, lest the current should knock your legs out from underneath. Here, more than an hour into the race, the sun started to warm things up, and a stop was required to remove any long-sleeved shirts and gloves. Things warmed up a bit more once you started to climb a bit, through switchbacks and along the sides of narrow cliffs. Soon, you entered the second aid station, and fortified yourself for the third half of the race.

Sometimes, you have to stop and smell the wildflowers

It started with a long, steep climb up a gravel road. Eventually, you re-entered the woods, and feasted on a runnable, if narrow trail. But you also went through numerous crossings of small creeks, and through tight rock formations, sometimes barely squeezing through. Then it got weird. The path went into a steep downhill through a series of switchback. Then it widened, and undulated through a muddy field. You could hear the river, and sometimes catch a glimpse of it. Then through the mist, you saw the bridge. The bridge at the end. The bridge that would take you across the South Fork one last time, and to the finish line at Blue Heron.

For a moment, it disappeared. Then it returned, and you made the left-hand turn onto the solid wooden structure, where you saw dozens of spectators lined up, clapping and cheering, hootin’ and hollerin’, calling out your name, which was printed on your bib. The sheer exuberance of the crowd, coupled with the sight of the finish line at the other end of the bridge, couldn’t help but bring a smile to your face and momentarily make you forget the pains in your legs and in your lungs.

Then you were done. Another volunteer put the wooden medal around your neck and pointed you to the buffet table and water bottles. You greeted your friends who beat you to the finish lines, and congratulated everyone all around.

My shirt, bib, and medal

Presently, you hobbled down to the parking lot to await the shuttle bus ride back to your car. But as you were waiting, another volunteer pulled her van over, and asked who needed a ride. We hopped in, grateful and thankful to the wonderful people of Stearns. “Thank you so much,” I said.

“No,” she said. “Thank you for coming down here.”