Hatfield-McCoy Marathon

Dare you imagine? Today, the head of NVIDIA, Jen-Hsun Huang, who wears black leather clothes every day and has a market value of more than 4 trillion, has the most profound memory of his childhood, which is that he was "exiled" to the most "closed, poorest, and wildest" mountains in the United States. When he was 10 years old, his family mistakenly sent him to a juvenile detention center here.

His daily routine involves frantically cleaning toilets, and even teaching a 17-year-old inmate covered in scars to read in exchange for being taught how to lift weights. What kind of magical place is this? Can the "AI Godfather" develop an iron will? This is Eastern Kentucky, the heart of the Appalachian Mountains. If you walk into this deep mountain alone, what may be heard behind you may not only be the sound of wind, but also the sound of gunshots that have not been extinguished a hundred years ago.

Do you dare to run a marathon here? This place has been isolated from the world for a long time and has become a legendary hot spot for incest marriages and various mental illnesses. It was once the backbone of the coal mining industry in the United States, but after the energy transition and the closure of mines, it fell into long-term poverty and silence. In this forested valley lies the most famous family feud in the U.S.: Hatfield and McCoy.

Back then, the two families fought for decades across the river over a pig, resulting in numerous deaths and injuries. The blood of this land is born with an exclusive and conservative gene. Hey everyone, I am Asen Nan. In early June, looking for a cool place, Siqi and I locked in on this niche event with a 4.7 rating: the Hatfield-McCoy Marathon. After get off work on Friday, Siqi and I set out overnight from Louisville and headed straight into the mountains.

At night we stayed in a small wooden house in the mountains. The house was filled with various bear decorations, as if to remind us: this is the bear's territory, and we are just overnight guests. At 7 o'clock in the morning, the starting gun rang out, and I was greeted by the white fog that had not yet cleared and "Country Roads" echoing in the valley.

Not long after the start, the cumulative 1,200 feet of climb begins to show its force. You can still hear the rushing sound of mountain streams in the first half of the journey, but as I ran, I was the only one left in the valley with my violent breathing and footsteps. The most hardcore challenge is at mile 18. You'll see the Blackberry Bridge, a long, narrow bridge spanning the Tugger Fork River.

That was the place where the two families faced each other across the river. The old wooden boards creak when your feet step on them, and the bridge sways slightly with the rhythm. The rusty feeling of history is a sense of ritual that can never be given by a big city track. As we neared the finish line, the sun was getting a little stronger. The volunteer aunt handed over iced watermelon under the scorching sun, which was a life-saving medicine.

The moment we rushed into the small town of Williamson, there were several big brothers wearing old-fashioned coarse clothes and carrying long guns standing in front of the finishing arch. They will yell loudly and take a photo with you, telling you: The battle here is over and only runners are welcome now! I was in good shape this time and finished the race in just over 4 hours and 20 minutes.

He even “upset” beat our Louisville lap master Chris. This 25th anniversary commemorative medal is the most unique. There are reliefs of family members on the outside, but it can be opened inside to reveal maps of two states. It is full of human touch. After the game, looking at the few wooden houses standing alone in the mountains, you will find that although there are still declining mining towns and dilapidated houses, the bright smiles of the people are the most real warmth here.

As my footsteps fell into the valley, behind me were hundreds of years of gunfire, and looking up were the still green mountains. I am an Asen man, and the Run50 progress bar continues to load. I don’t know how many times it took to complete my hometown of Kentucky. See you next state!