Bigfoot Scramble and Day Hike: A Standing Stone Twofer

We were at Standing Stone State Park yesterday for our second stop on the Tennessee Running Tour. The Bigfoot Scramble 5-miler is a fun event, one which I had been looking forward to since crossing the finish line near the Overton Lodge last year. The weather for this year's race being more agreeable than last year, I was glad to have a short-sleeve shirt to change into before getting started. We were off to the races a couple of minutes past 11:00 a.m., and I quickly found myself running from side-to-side to find an opening I could penetrate. As I broke through lines, I tried to remain conscious of the energy I was expending to advance my position. I didn't want to give back any of these early gains later in the race, a tactical error which I have been guilty of on several previous occasions.

By the second half of the first mile, I was running in the open and trying to find my pace. The next mile would be a gradual ascent, and I fully anticipated being passed by some of those behind me who thrived on hills. Maybe it was just because I was already so far back in the pack, but nobody passed me on this hill; in fact, nobody passed me for the remainder of the run, which may be unprecedented. Coming back down the hill from the turnaround at 1.5 miles, I sought out each of my daughters to offer up some encouragement. I still felt good, and I was running hard (by my standards) as I passed the halfway point.

Before I made it to the end of the third mile, the leader came barreling down the road in the opposite direction, roughly a half-mile from the finish line. He would finish, incredibly, with a time of 26:55. I remained strong, now heading uphill again, to the second and final turnaround. My breathing was under control as I ran pain-free to begin the fifth and final mile. I must have been focused on the task at hand because, though I waved to my oldest daughter as she was pushing uphill to the turnaround, I never even saw my youngest. Nearing the finish line, I was met with some disappointment as the clock came into view. Though I beat my time from last year by 2:11, I was thinking I had run faster than I did. With a chip time of 41:18, I was far down the list, the 9th finisher out of 12 in the men's 40-44 year-old bracket.

Coming in for the finish

 

Whenever my daughters crossed the line, we could eat. There was no telling how far back my youngest was, so I backtracked to see if I could hurry her along. When I came upon her, she had nearly a mile to go. I was proud of her as she ran all the way back, though the pace was agonizingly glacial. Once we were finally back at the lodge, we helped ourselves to the complimentary post-race spaghetti. Our bellies full, we were now prepared to make the transformation from runners to hikers.

 

Refueling after the run

 

The Lake Trail is 4.7 miles long and encircles Kelly Lake. Because the trail passes right by the lodge, we decided to just pick up the trail here, rather than driving to the trailhead parking. We hiked clockwise a short distance on Beach Road, the same road which we had just ran, before the trail veered left into the woods.

 

Kelly Lake, as seen from Beach Road

 

Switchbacks quickly led us up into the hills high above the lake. With many of the leaves off the trees, we could see down into the hollows and over onto adjacent hills. The lake remained in sight for much of our hike, as well (duh, it is called Lake Trail). Saturday was the first day of rifle season here in Tennessee, and the hills were alive with the sound of gunfire. There were so many rounds going off at one point, I was afraid the Viet Cong were shooting back. The firing soon subsided, and, after dropping down to share with Beach Road a second time, the trail turned north in the direction of the Fisk House on Standing Stone Park Highway.

 

Leafless trees provide hikers with a good lay of the land

 

Wikipedia states that Moses Fisk was an early idealistic pioneer in the area who built the house in front of which we were now standing in the early 1800s. The house, which is badly deteriorating, proved to be a useful rendezvous point for us later in the day when my wife was forced to turn back after knee pain prevented her from descending a steep slope to the dam. While my older daughter headed back with her mom, the younger one and I stayed the course, as we were now about halfway through the loop.

 

Fisk House

 

Steep grade to the dam below

 

Below the Kelly Lake Dam

 

After checking out the dam, we continued on to pick up the trail on the other side. The only problem was that I picked up the wrong trail. Thinking more about how my wife would make it back to the Fisk House before we could make it back to our vehicle parked at the group lodge, I failed to check my map and inadvertently stepped onto the Tea Room Spur Trail. As we approached the top of the hill and observed the rental cabins, I sensed I had made a mistake. Now with map properly in hand, I pinpointed our location, and we strolled down East Cabin Drive to access the Cabin Spur Trail. This trail gently descended the slope to reunite us with the Lake Trail. A sign at the bottom informed us we were 2.5 miles from the Overton Lodge.

 

View from the Cabin Spur Trail

 

On the Lake Trail

 

We crossed a bridge along the Lake Trail and came to a junction with the Cooper Mountain Trail. This is an 8-mile loop trail, beginning and ending in the park, which I had totally forgotten existed. I filed this away in my memory to hike another day. At this moment, we were on a mission to retrieve the other two members of our party before sundown. Now on the east side of the lake, the trail became quite easy, and we made good time. There is one section along the trail here worth noting where the drop is precipitous, so take extra care. We enjoyed the sunshine and the pretty views of the lake as we winded along the water's edge before closing the loop at the group lodge. The race event now long over, ours was the only vehicle remaining at the site.

 

Looking south from the east side of Kelly Lake

 

Kelly Lake

 

I drove us back to the Fisk House, where the other half of our party waited. Passing this way on the trail earlier, I had noticed an overlook high above but saw no path leading to it. The map showed access to the overlook was by car only. With the access road just up from the Fisk House, we pulled in shortly before sunset to have a final look at the park. Our day of running and hiking complete, I told the girls we were like the drivers who sometimes compete in both NASCAR and IndyCar races in the same day. I believe at that point they, too, felt like those drivers must at the end of the day.    

 

View from overlook

 



  



   





 

 

       

  



  

     

Bigfoot Scramble 5 mi. run - Standing Stone State Park

Yesterday my oldest daughter and I ran in our 2nd Tennessee State Parks Running Tour race in Hilham, TN. The excitement surrounding this day had been building in our house for the many days and weeks leading up to the event. Upon completing my final workout prior to the run, I was totally hyped up. By Friday, optimism surrounding our chances to medal at a park rumored to be home to Bigfoot - a park we had long wanted to visit - had elevated emotions to an unprecedented crescendo. The energy in the house was, in fact, so palpable that everyone was catching the fever. Chatter regarding the run was constant. The course was reviewed thoroughly and re-reviewed over and again. All possible scenarios and strategies were considered and debated, loudly at times. Then these were analyzed some more and re-hashed well into the wee hours of the morning. The coffee maker was working overtime, vainly trying to keep up with our frantic pace, until finally we were hit between the eyes with a message reminding us what was truly important this day:

Humbled by Bigfoot

Now with a new perspective, we felt so small, so inconsequential. Yet, we were free from the heavy burdens we'd been carrying, empowered for the first time to run the race for our own wellbeing, not for the fleeting glory and materialistic awards, the importance of which had grown to alarmingly high levels in our small minds. Relaxed and at peace with ourselves, we were fully prepared. Or so we thought.

The first sign of trouble came at the starting line when my daughter began complaining of a stomach ache. The second sign came about four minutes later, after a man pushing a stroller passed me on the left. That darn Bigfoot had thrown us off our game for sure! Sabotage I tell ya, pure and simple. Moments later I caught up with my daughter and soon left her behind. This was not good; after all, she's the experienced distance runner, not me. Other folks were passing me, and I was catching up with no one. But I felt good. Not even once did I tell myself I would never run again. Well, at least not more than once. Shortly after the first mile I knew I was going to make it, even as more people scooted around me.

Halfway through the second mile, the herd had thinned. Nobody was passing me anymore and, with the worst of the hills behind me, I just needed to maintain a decent pace and figure out how to get even with Bigfoot. At some point during the third mile, I realized there were a couple of other runners with whom I had been in close proximity for pretty much the entire run. To make it interesting, my new goal would be to stick with them as best I could, giving myself a chance to pass them up in the home stretch. I would have to plot my revenge against Bigfoot another time.

Heading downhill after passing the final turn around cone, I passed my daughter running uphill to the cone. My thumbs-up was not returned, so I knew her condition had likely not improved. Building speed downhill, and with the finish line now in sight just across the bridge, I passed the last of the two runners I had targeted. This would serve as my consolation prize, as my time of 43:27 would not be good enough to earn an award. A little less than four and a half minutes later my daughter arrived, greatly disappointed with her performance. I congratulated her for toughing it out, fighting through the pain and finishing the race. "Hey," I said. "We'll get 'em next time." But in the meantime, I was setting my sights on Bigfoot.

Before the race, near the finish line at Overton Lodge

Ditto

After the run everyone made their way into the Overton Lodge for a hot post-race meal provided by the Frostbite Running Club. In addition to drinks and cookies, the club offered up spaghetti with marinara sauce, meatballs, and Alfredo sauce. Warm dinner rolls rounded out the selection. What a completely unexpected treat! The meal alone was worth every penny of the entry fee. Though there was nowhere to sit inside the lodge by the time we dragged in, the sun had since come out and we were able to enjoy our meal at one of the many picnic tables nearby. Appetites satisfied, we shoehorned ourselves back inside near the fire for the awards ceremony. Though we walked away empty-handed, we really didn't. We had a great time and felt fortunate we were able to participate, visiting another state park in the process. Looking back on it, maybe Bigfoot was right all along.