Finding Strength Through Struggle – A Tale From Out There

 On paper, the Barkley Fall Classic is a 50k trail race in the mountains of east Tennessee. To those who have run it, it is so much more (and I’m not just talking about the distance). It’s not possible to explain it to someone who hasn’t been out there. A mysterious trail magic engulfs your spirit. Those who attempt the race past the Yellow Gate are a rare breed, runners who are looking to find their limits and push beyond.

Barkley mastermind Lazarus Lake always finds new ways to challenge us, changing the course so it’s essentially a new race each year. 2023 ran as a five-loop course, with each loop getting progressively harder. It had similarities to 2022, but based on the direction of the loops and the time of day we hit certain trails, it proved to be much more difficult than last year. The route is always challenging in the best conditions, but Mother Nature always seems to provide an extra challenge at Frozen Head State Park. This year she brought a rainstorm as most runners were on the most difficult sections of the BFC – Rat Jaw, Meth Lab, and Testicle Spectacle. Impossibly steep, briar filled powerline cuts up the sides of mountains. We had to climb and descend them in both directions. They quickly turned into mud slides and the time needed to traverse the same sections as last year (when it was hot and dry) increased exponentially. For many who made it down Rat Jaw, when faced with several more climbs and descents with similar conditions, hope was lost of being able to finish the race, and they opted to take the Bus of Disgrace back to the start line. Several others chose to push on, only to ultimately be turned back by the sweepers after timing out. Only about one-third of the runners pushed on past that decision point, choosing to climb the muddy Rat Jaw – 2000 feet up in 1 mile – and then run about 4 miles back down to the finish line, to victory.

This year was my sixth year running this race, and I have yet to finish the full 50k. Why would I keep coming me back after so many failures? Back in 2017, I showed up knowing nothing about the park, or much at all about the Barkley Marathons, other than seeing the documentary about the race that starts when a guy lights a cigarette. I was nearly 3 hours behind the decision point cutoff. Over the years, I have become a better runner mostly due to my desire to get better at this particular race. The past few years I have been so close, being less than 10 minutes from be able to run the last loop and finally earn the Croix de Barque for a 50K finish. This year, I was one of those unfortunate souls that ran into the sweeper at the top of Meth Lab, coming up just short of being able to finish the marathon distance. My reward was to turn around and go back down Meth Lab, following the Barkley tradition of anyone who can self-extract must do so. I joined up with a group of 3 other runners in the same situation, and we just laughed at how ridiculously difficult the day had become. We had struggled through a lot of adversity but discovered strength we didn’t know we had. I knew I could hold my head high knowing that I had given everything I had to the course this year. It wasn’t enough to get my ultimate goal, but it was a worthwhile pursuit. Sometimes you can find success even if you don’t finish the race. Barkley gives us what we need.

Aside from the personal challenges, it’s the people that keep bringing me back. I like to say that the Barkley Fall Classic is a family reunion where everyone is the “crazy uncle” that does these wild things that nobody else in the family can understand. Someone who in one moment can talk about how miserable they were when it took them 2 hours to go 1 mile, then share pictures of a hundred briar cuts on their arms and legs, and then immediately ask when they can sign up again. Over the years, I have become friends with so many of these people, and I can’t imagine not being out there with them year after year. And every year, I make amazing memories with new people that I would never have known otherwise. We aren’t racing against each other, we are racing with each other, doing whatever we can to help everyone get as far as they can. I was given Benadryl and Tylenol when I got stung in the head 4 times on Jury Ridge. I gave salt caps to a runner who was suffering from cramps on the run down the jeep road. We offered condolences to the runner who was walking back from the Yellow Gate after taking a hard fall on the rocks. I saw a friend who had gone through hell coming back down Chimney Top, ready to call it a day out of frustration. We convinced her to join our merry band of zombies as we marched on at 30-minute mile pace – she ultimately finished the marathon, and I know she will be back stronger next year to give it another go. I reminded a virgin that we had done 10 switchbacks up Bird Mountain and there were only 4 more, and that gave her new energy to continue climbing. And we couldn’t do any of it without the amazing support we get from volunteers every year, especially the local Coalfield middle and high school football teams.

Perhaps the highlight of my day was as we were descending Rat Jaw. I don’t remember if we were stopped for a rest from the insanity, or if we had moved to the side to give right-of-way to those lead runners coming back up, heading towards a finish. I was clinging for dear life with to a tiny stump and a clump of briars that stabbed my fingers through my gloves. The woman 20-30 feet above me let out a little yell and I looked up to see her losing control and starting to slide down a pitch so steep she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from hitting the rocks a few feet below me. I reached out my right hand and somehow, she grabbed ahold of it, and I was able to re-direct her into the briars next to me. In any other situation this would be a terrible fate, however looking at the alternative, laying in a pile of thorns in the mud seemed like the perfect place to be. The guy above us who watched the whole thing yelled something like “That was awesome! That was like something in an action movie!” The people are what the Barkley is all about, and what continues to bring me back.

I saw many of the lead runners on their way back up Rat Jaw as I was heading down, and despite being hours behind them, I was being encouraged by those who would finish before I could even get out a word. Fist bumps, good job, keep going, you look great (although we know that’s not true). While we awed at their strength, they awed at our perseverance. That’s why the Barkley feels like a family affair – everyone is treated as equal, because everyone knows what we are going through. One finisher said that on his climb up Rat Jaw, those of us still descending looked like we had gone to war. That is a perfect description for how I felt – shellshocked, but hell bent on continuing for as long as I could with my band of brothers.

If you ever want to run this race, you must bring your very best. Maybe your best isn’t enough to finish the entire race, and that’s ok. If you are willing to give everything you have, you belong and you are welcome. Find your own limits and go beyond. Learn how strong you are and how much more you can be. Use this as a springboard to a better version of you. Just beware – for many of us, the Barkley Fall Classic isn’t just something you can do once and “get it out of your system”. This race gets into your soul. Nobody will understand why you want to keep coming back again and again, except those of us who do the same. I hope to see you out there in 2024.

2021 Barkley Fall Classic - Putting it all together and coming up just short

2021 Barkley Fall Classic 50k
September 18, 2021 at Frozen Head State Park in Wartburg, TN
Putting it all together and coming up just short
Result: Marathon DNF after missing the decision point cut-off by 6 minutes
Chip times: 11:50:14
Position: 13 out of 72 marathoners, 176 50k finishers, 166 DNF

It has been 4 days since me and over 400 other brave souls attempted to push ourselves beyond anything a rational person would consider hard. My entire body still aches from the effort, my arms and legs look like I crawled into a cage and spent hours taunting an angry cat. My brain is still foggy, trying to recollect the thoughts of what exactly we did out there on Saturday. 

This is the Barkley Fall Classic, one of the most difficult "50K" in the country, and this year was by far the hardest iteration of a course that changes every year. The bearded wizard, Lazarus Lake, doesn't like it very much when a high percentage of runners finish his race. He takes joy in the fact that only 15 people have ever completed the Barkley Marathons, a finish rate of about 1%. BFC gives us only a small taste of that race, with slightly better results - typically about 40% finish the 50K.

Laz knows every square inch of that park, and just the slightest tweak in how we navigate the same trails as previous years seems to make it exponentially more difficult. There are only a few sections that go outside of the park trails. The infamous power line sections, cut straight up the sides of mountains, with names like Rat Jaw, Testicle Spectacle, and Meth Lab. Devastating climbs meant to punch you in the face when you are already at your lowest point, in hopes that you will quit before finding that sweet taste of victory. The Bus of Disgrace is waiting to give you a ride back to comfort and safety.

But victory can be found in the suffering. We signed up to do this. You have to laugh at how ridiculous it is. A finish is probably beyond the abilities of more than half who line up, but pushing yourself to YOUR limit is a victory in itself. With each attempt, I continue to find new limits, reset what I think is possible for me to achieve, and continue to get closer to finishing what I started back in 2017.

This was my fourth attempt at this race. Twice I haven't properly prepared, and was forced to accept the marathon finish option - I was two hours too slow both times. It's really a DNF, because we are there to do a 50K. Two years ago I thought I was ready to beat the course, only to show up overconfident. Barkley has a way of humbling you, and a simple mistake can unravel an entire year of preparation.

Would 2021 be my year? Honestly I wasn't even planning to do the race this year. A lot of life happened in 2020 and 2021, and Barkley Fall Classic was one of the last things on my mind. Some things started settling down a bit in August. I had some good training while supporting friends in their efforts to reach some new goals, and suddenly I heard the beck and call from Tennessee. I couldn't say no. I had learned quite a bit in races and adventure runs since my disaster two years ago, and would have to put that all into practice as this would require my best performance ever. I knew I'd have to do some things differently this time. No watch on my wrist to know what time it was. No phone to waste time taking photos or possibly even sending a text looking for sympathy. I was out there, and help was not coming. There would be no rest, no stopping, no quitting this year, regardless of outcome. I was only going to stop when I finished or I missed a cut off.

Downpour at Brushy

So what happened this time? We went up, we went down, over and over and over. For safety reasons, our warm up loop was rerouted and we got to run a few bonus miles, along with a creek crossing through water that was waist deep. I spent time with some awesome people I knew from past years, and made friends with new people who I hope to see in future years. Familiarity was a good friend today, but something unfamiliar threw everything into chaos. We tracked the weather forecast throughout the week, and it seemed to change every few hours. One thing that was certain was that we would get some bit of rain, remnants from a tropical storm that tend to strike the southeastern US this time of year. It has never rained during this race in its eight year history, so Mother Nature decided to make up for that with a ferocity nobody could have predicted. 

About three hours into the race, I was mostly alone climbing up Chimney Top Trail. We could hear thunder in the distance, and soon it was raining. I always tell people "it might rain on race day" when they decide to skip a run due to the weather. This is where I fell apart two years ago, and the trails of Frozen Head were beginning to wreak havoc on so many of the unsuspecting virgins. Not me, not this time. I knew what to expect on this trail, with it's multiple steep climbs, false summits, and the tough third section where the trail cutters forgot how to make switchbacks. I maintained a positive attitude and tried joking with some of the other runners, but most of them didn't want to hear it. I encouraged anyone who was sitting to not stay for too long, just keep climbing no matter how slowly it may seem.

Yes you go up that

I felt really strong as I rolled aid station 3, a location we would hit 3 times, just under five and a half hours. I had built over a 90 minute cushion on the cut offs, which was great, but there was still a lot of work to be done. To this point, I had executed my race plan perfectly - don't go out too hard early, make steady progress without stopping, and stay on top of nutrition/hydration. It was time to face down the biggest baddest hill in the BFC, and I was ready to give it everything I had. One little problem though -  at this point the little bit of rain had morphed into a full on monsoon. I approached Rat Jaw with several first timers and they couldn't believe what they were seeing, and the fact that we had to CLIMB THAT. The site of it alone is enough to make some quit, and on top of that it was becoming a muddy mess. Thank God for the cable laying over the trail, which was our only assistance besides those sharp briars that surrounded us. We became more like mountaineers than anything else, holding onto the cable and heaving ourselves up a few feet at a time. Some tried to crawl up and would constantly slide back down, and I would scramble around them as often as I could without being pushy. This section was definitely a full body workout, and all of the weight training I had done in the past few months was paying off big time.

Once I finally summited, one of my friends was taking pictures and I was super excited to FINALLY get my Rat Jaw photo. We couldn't climb the fire tower for obvious reasons so we hurried back down to the aid station for another bib punch. Quick time check and it was 1:38pm - I had kept my 90 minute cushion through Rat Jaw! We ran back down the jeep road, except this time we continued on to what would be the worst section of the race. The out and back on Testicle Spectacle was a complete mud pit and several runners were sliding uncontrollably on their butts and hoped they would stop before running into some serious trouble. There were only a few spots that I couldn't just walk down. Instead of butt sliding, I basically planked and slid my feet down first, like descending a ladder, and if I started sliding too quickly, I could dig my hands into the mud like claws. This feels much safer and more comfortable to me, and worked great all except for the time the runner behind me decided to butt slide and kicked mud directly into my eye when he tried to stop from sliding into me. All I could do was laugh, even when he suggested I just wipe it out with my mud covered gloves.

The nice thing about having a turnaround is seeing runners and getting/giving encouragement. I saw a handful of friends which was great, and seeing that I was only a few minutes behind some multi-time finishers gave me a huge boost. We came out to the turnaround aid station on a road, and to get there I stupidly decided to slide down the very last slope into a ditch, and immediately my left calf seized up. I ran out of my electrolyte drink about 30 minutes before, but thankfully I was right at the aid station to get a refill. I rolled out of the way of the other runners coming down, pulled myself up and walked over to stretch things out. This was the only time all day that I had any real problems. After chugging some water and roctane, I felt better, and got right back to work.

In 2019, after blowing up, I made it from the TS turnaround to the prison in about 45 minutes. This year it was a bit further down the trail, which wasn't a big deal, but the mud made everything extremely slow. I kept moving one step at a time, but by the time I made it to the prison, I had given back about 30 minutes of my cutoff cushion. When looking at the map on Friday, I figured if I could get to the base of Rat Jaw by 4:00pm, I would be in great shape to make the decision point cut off. I expected to need about 1.5 hours to climb RJ and 1 hour to run 3.5ish miles back down. I started that climb at 4:22 with all urgency. The last time I did this climb in the heat took me 2.5 hours. I powered up without stopping, not even when the park rangers warned us at the halfway point that another big storm was coming in 10 minutes and they were offering rides if anyone wanted to skip the last section. I reached the top in 1 hr 25 mins, my fastest time ever up Rat Jaw.

I got my last punch and found it was now 5:47pm, and I only had 43 minutes. I'm not sure I could do that trail on a dry day with fresh legs that quickly, but I took off running - I had to try. This was finally my chance at making the decision cutoff, and having that shot at earning my Croix. I ran as much as I could, but my legs were on fire and I had to take walk breaks quite a bit. I power hiked as fast as I possibly could, which was probably not much slower than my run pace at that point. The trail was a muddy mess and had a lot of wet rocks in places, and I wasn't ready to be completely reckless and risk a serious injury should I fall. I checked the time when it felt like we were getting close and it was 6:27pm. I couldn't see or hear anyone cheering in the people racing in the last minutes, and I knew it was too far and I would just miss it. Once we hit the bottom of the trail we had a long straight section and I ran that as hard as I could, frustrated at being so close but also wanting to finish my day as strong as possible. 

I popped out to the parking lot 6 minutes too late, and didn't even have it in me to talk to Laz this time. I had given everything I had, and despite the extra miles and mud, there was still no excuse to be made for not making the cutoff in time, no sympathy to be garnered. I ran the last mile to the finish line and begrudgingly accepted my third set of dog tags, a sign that you did something that day, but not enough to earn the coveted medal. In the past, I considered these an embarrassment, but this time I was proud to have earned them, on the hardest course in the worst conditions. I stayed around and saw several friends finish and was excited for them, and look forward to that celebration when I finally cross that line from the right direction.... hopefully in 2022!

Grand Canyon Rim2Rim2Rim Adventure Run Report

Grand Canyon R3 Adventure Run
March 5, 2021 at Grand Canyon National Park
Race Result: COMPLETE (you go in the canyon you get your butt out)
Distance: 45 miles on Garmin - don't trust GPS
Time: 14:37:58

Strava - https://www.strava.com/activities/4897387456

GoPro Race Video - working on compiling footage

Google Photos Album - https://photos.app.goo.gl/JYk3S6AXiDXiPcQk7

 

Races haven't been my thing lately. I've posted reports of my struggles at the Barkley Fall Classic 50k, my DNF at Georgia Death Race, and my most recent race at Black Canyon 100k. All of these events have been things that I felt were outside of my ability at the time, but I signed up for anyways because I love a challenge and wanted the extra motivation to push myself in training. Sometimes you have to go through a lot of setbacks and learning experiences before you really know what you are doing and get things right. After a while, you figure out what works for you, and sometimes you just have a perfect day and everything goes right. This was one of those times, well for the most part. There is no talk about what a DNF for this adventure run looks like - if you go down into the canyon, it's up to you to get your butt out of the canyon.

When we planned the Grand Canyon for a stop on the RV tour around the country, I figured I had to make a run-venture while there. I joined several Facebook groups dedicated to hiking and running in the canyon. I figured the Coconino Cowboy loop - a route regularly run by Jim Walmsley - would be a good one to tackle. It's about 20 miles, down Bright Angel (9.5 miles / 4400 feet down), up South Kaibab (7 miles / 4800 feet up), and finishes with a 3 mile run along the rim trail. I kept the rim-to-rim-to-rim in the back of my head though, knowing its about similar total stats to what I did at GDR (42 miles, 10,000 feet elevation). After spending a few days there, I knew that I was going big and I wanted to tackle the whole thing.

The Plan
Something I usually do when planning for ultra races is break it down into small sections, either based on where aid stations are, or the major climbs/descents. This helps my mental approach it as I can just focus on a smaller part of the race instead of thinking of the entire massive undertaking. For this run, the obvious sections would be based around where I could refill my water. Checking the NPS website, I knew that water would be available at Phantom Ranch, Manzanita Rest Area, and Indian Garden Campground. I tried to come up with a guess as to what pace I could manage, not wanting to push things too hard early on and really suffer on the return trip, but also wanting to make good time so I didn't spend too much time in the dark at the finish (which tends to be the worst part of long distance trail running for me). I also planned on taking 5 minute mandatory breaks at each water station, to not only refill water but also to stretch, rest, eat some extra food, whatever I needed to do (in hindsight probably should have planned a little longer b/c I usually ended up taking about 10 minutes at each one).

 

My time estimate put me somewhere around 13.5 hours. That seemed reasonable to me, thinking that the trail was similar to the 42 miles with 11k vert I did at GDR around 14 hours. I felt like I was in much better shape and with more experience and knowledge, this run would surely feel much better. As for fuel, I wanted to be sure to have at least 200 calories per hour, and I would be using Gu Roctane that worked so well for me at Black Canyon 100k. That is 250 calories when mixed with 20oz of water, so I planned to drink one of those for each of the seven sections (along with another 20oz of pure water), and then packed several of my usual trail snacks to supplement - mini Snickers, fruit snacks, trail mix, honey buns, and potato chips. Altogether I had somewhere between 3,000 and 3,500 calories.

 

The last thing to figure out was what to wear, and I somewhat screwed this one up. Thankfully its easy to remove layers but I way overdressed and had to carry unnecessary stuff all day. I wanted to be prepared in case things took longer than expected and it got cold. It was only 23 degrees when I started, with predicted temps up to 60, and they say it can be about 20 degrees warmer at the bottom. I wore my running shorts with built in compression over my running tights, a long sleeve tech with short sleeve tech shirt over, and also had my windbreaker jacket. I wore my PYRC hat with a buff around my neck to use as a face covering when I was near other people on the trail. In hindsight, I easily could have gone without the running tights and long sleeve shirt.

I wanted to get an earlier start but didn't get things around quickly enough in the morning before we had to get the kids set up for school. So I ended up catching the 5:45am shuttle from the Visitor's Center over to the South Kaibab trailhead. I was surprised to be the only person on the bus with it shaping up to be such a beautiful day. A short ride and walk up to the trailhead, and I was heading down the trail right about 6:00am.

South Kaibab Trailhead (SK) to Phantom Ranch (PR) - mile 0.0 to 7.1
Distance: 7.1 miles
Plan: 15min/mile = 1hr 46mins
Actual: 1hr 47mins

The main goal for this section was to not blow up the rest of my run. This section drops 4,700 feet in just over 7 miles, which averages out to an almost 13% downhill grade. Running too fast on that steep of a downhill will only result in destroying your quads - unless you are a very strong runner and used to that kind of pounding. Doing that is partly what led to my DNF at BC100K - while I wasn't flying down the hills, a 20 mile downhill run in 3hrs 40mins was way too fast for what I was doing. Don't make the same mistake this time!

Early in the morning the day before my run, quite a bit of snow came down but mostly all melted. I hoped it would be mostly cleared up and it was - there was only small bits of crunchy snow for maybe the first quarter mile. It was still pretty dark and I had never been on the trail, so not much running for the first few miles. I saw quite a few headlamps below - hikers from the earlier shuttles. What I didn't expect was at about 15 minutes in I saw someone flying down the trail a few switchbacks above me. It wasn't a minute later he was running by, in the few brief seconds we told each other we were both going for the R3 but I said I wouldn't be nearly as fast as he was!

I probably passed 20-25 hikers on the way down the first few miles. They were moving slower b/c they were carrying much heavier packs to camp down in the canyon for a few days. That's definitely something I would like to do in the future with my boys when they are older. Today was about being light and moving quickly, and having a pack that maybe weighed five pounds (with full bottles) was way easier than a 30+(??)lb pack full of camping gear and food. The sun started to give off some light at this point even though it hadn't peeked over the horizon yet. It would actually be a few more hours before I was in the sunlight. I descended so far into the canyon that I stayed in the shade from the canyon walls. It was almost like I was treated to several sunrises at different points in there.

With the light I finally felt comfortable to "run". This was far from consistent running, as the trail twists and turns and switchbacks all over of the place you can never get into much of a rhythm. My "keep it easy" strategy also dictated that I only ran for maybe a minute or two before hiking. It wasn't long before I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist. I was sweating a lot from too many clothes. I considered dropping my pants since nobody was around but decided to wait until my first break at Phantom Ranch.

The sights were so amazing that I also wanted to slow down plenty to take lots of pictures and videos. This journey wasn't about speed, I wanted to make a lifelong memory. Knowing GPS is unreliable but hoping it was at least close, I was happy to see that I worked my average pace for the section down around 15 minutes, with most miles around 14 minutes after that 18 minute first mile. I only saw one person after those first two miles, a ranger right at The Tip Off (4.5 miles), hiking up from Phantom Ranch. Soon I could see the river from above, and before I knew it I was running through the tunnel, surprising some hikers going the other direction who didn't expect to see a runner that early (they must have missed the fast guy). 

I took lots of pictures of the bridge, strolled through the sandy trail over to Phantom Ranch and once I found the water spigot, I found a bench to sit on for my break. Top priority was getting out of my extra clothes. I was able to quickly do that without anyone else walking by, and figured now was a good time to get out my hiking poles - mostly so I could use the part of my pack where I stored my poles to tie on my running tights and long sleeve shirt (should have stored my jacket there too). I only needed to fill up one bottle with plain water since I started off with two bottles of Roctane and drank exactly one. Ate a pack of fruit snacks and was off to Manzanita after a 5:04 break. I told Katie before I started that if I didn't make it to Manzanita in 4.5 hours, I would probably turn around.

Phantom Ranch (PR) to Manzanita Rest Area (MZ) - mile 7.1 to 15.6
Distance: 8.5 miles
Plan: 18min/mile = 2hr 33mins
Actual: 2hr 1min

I really didn't expect to see many people on this section. The park has signs everywhere that say hiking to the river and back in a day is not recommended, and I know not many people take on the R3. There is a campground (Cottonwood) about 7 miles from PR, but anyone making that hike as part of a multi-day R3 probably wasn't going to be up and moving by 8:00am - at least I wouldn't be. I knew I was well prepared to be out in the back country by myself, so I wasn't too worried - but seeing a friendly face is always nice.
I was pretty conservative on my estimate for this section, again not wanting to do too much to increase the suffering on the second half. This section turned out to be quite a bit easier than I expected though. The trail winds around the Bright Angel Creek that feeds into the Colorado River, first through towering canyon walls that feel right next to you on either side, until it opens up to a much wider area about halfway to Manzanita. It also doesn't feel like you are ever gaining any elevation, as it might have a slight incline for a while then a flat or slight decline for a bit. I was able to run a lot more of this part than I expected.

At one point when crossing over a bridge I noticed there was another runner maybe a few minutes behind me. I wasn't trying to "race" him or anything, but he kept me moving at a good pace, because every time I looked back he was running, so I felt like I could run some. Eventually he caught up to me and we shared a few miles. I learned he had done R3 once before, and had another try that had to abort because of a nasty storm they saw coming in. We eventually parted ways once the trail actually had a few bigger climbs, but I thank him for pushing me to keep moving at such a good pace.

By the end of this section, I knew there was no doubt that I was going to continue on. I got there under four hours! I had built up a really nice cushion on my initial plan, which was a big mental boost - and I knew I could take it easy on the next brutal uphill section to the North Rim. I had a few feelings of a cramp coming on in my left hamstring, so I topped off my water bottle and downed the whole thing there, before refilling both bottles with Roctane. There was nowhere on the North Rim to get water so I wanted all the calories and electrolytes I could get. Ate some shot blocks and a handful of trail mix, a 5:53 break, and I was off for the last section before turning around.

Manzanita Rest Area (MZ) to North Kaibab Trailhead (NK) - mile 15.6 to 20.7
Distance: 5.1 miles
Plan: 20min/mile = 1hr 42mins
Actual: 2hr 13mins

What goes down must come up. Is that how the saying goes? Things are quite different in the canyon and this was the time to pay up for all that easy downhill and flat-ish running for 15 miles. Over 3800 feet to gain in just over 5 miles. I've done 15% incline miles on a treadmill and they aren't fun. A good workout is usually maybe 2-3 miles of that. Now I had 5+ miles of that to do on a trail - which is always harder than road/treadmill - and that's all after I'd been running for almost four hours. It was time to stick to the game plan and shift things into low gear and just grind this out to the top. This was probably the most beautiful section, as you climb high enough to have amazing views of the canyon back to the south, and you get up into the forest area with the pine trees and the canyon walls of red and white.

The trail itself, namely the footing, was anything but beautiful! Aside from the tough incline that taxed my legs something fierce, I also had to deal with snow and water puddles and muddy areas from the melt. The one good thing was that it was not quite cold enough for that melt to turn into ice. I wish I had researched this section a bit better, because there are some landmarks that would help to break up the climb into smaller checkpoints - Redwall Bridge (2.7 miles left), Supai Tunnel (2.0 miles left), and Coconino Overlook (0.7 miles left). I tried to remember from Jim Walmsley's R3 FKT report and video if he mentioned any of those points, and how far they were from the top. I couldn't recall, but for some reason got it in my head that the tunnel was 1.5 miles. Just past here I saw the speedster from the morning, he was now only 3 miles ahead of me - I would have expected much more based on how fast he started. Maybe he was racing down SK and took it easy after that. I saw the guy I ran with through The Box with about a mile left, we wished each other luck and enjoyment for the rest of our journeys.

You can imagine my disappointment when my watch hit 5.1 miles and I wasn't up there yet. I knew not to trust my GPS - but I couldn't even see the top yet! There was one nice thing though and that was that there were a decent amount of people on the trail, who had hiked up from PR or Cottonwood, and it's always a nice reprieve from suffering alone to share a quick word of encouragement with others. Finally, I saw the signs and reached the top, 6 hours 13 minutes! This was almost exactly what I had planned and I was very proud of this - but I still had a looong way to go to get back. I took a nice long 15 minute break to relax and stretch and eat some food, but there was no place to fill up water and I only had 10oz left for the return trip to Manzanita so I needed to get moving. Good thing it was a nice downhill and I would just have to ration out a drink each mile. I had one of the hikers that was up at the rim take a pic of me at the sign, opted not to do a snow angel that I had been considering heavily during the climb, and I was off for the second half of my adventure.

North Kaibab Trailhead (NK) to Manzanita Rest Area (MZ) - mile 20.7 to 25.8
Distance: 5.1 miles
Plan: 15min/mile = 1hr 16mins
Actual: 1hr 27mins

The first few miles was getting through the sloppy trail again. Early on I encountered a handful of hikers on their way up, and I stepped off trail (uphill has the right of way) into the snow drift and a few times sunk into the snow up to my knee. It felt nice and cool but didn't want to do that too often and have my shoes and socks get wet - probably too late for that anyways with all the water puddles around. Despite all the snow I was still getting pretty hot and sweating, so I grabbed a handful of snow and stuck it in my hat (like I've done with ice during hot summer runs). Not a whole lot of excitement on this section, really just approached it like I did my initial descent many hours earlier on South Kaibab. The first two miles I didn't run a single step, but once I made it past Supai Tunnel and the trail cleared up, I resumed my easy running/fast hiking and got back to my 15ish minute miles for the last 3 miles.

I will say this was probably my favorite section of the day. The North Rim definitely has the best views all around. The views going up are amazing but you don't get to see the canyon - just the rim up above. The difficulty of the climb makes it a bit less enjoyable too. Coming back down, you have wide expansive views of the canyon many thousands of feet below. And much less effort is required. I wish this part didn't go so quickly, but I still had almost 20 miles to go and didn't have any time to waste. It was almost 12:30pm when I left. I was hoping to get back down to Phantom Ranch around 4:00pm, which would leave me almost 3 hours before sunset (just before 7 o'clock).

Because of the slow going first few miles, I didn't get back to Manzanita until around 2:00pm, and had now fallen behind my schedule by about 20 minutes. I really wasn't worried about it though, it wasn't like there was a race cutoff I had to chase somewhere and I might be facing a DNF. Adventure running is a lot different than racing! There is no DNF in the canyon! I decided to take a bit longer break again because I had been really light on fluid intake and hadn't eaten anything for an hour so my energy level was pretty low. Two other hikers were resting there and we had a nice chat about our adventures, and I broke out the big guns - it was time for a honey bun! I also downed another whole bottle of water then refilled them both. After a 12 minute break I was off for the easy downhill run but also had to go through The Box, which is the hottest part of the trail, during the hottest part of the day.

Manzanita Rest Area (MZ) to Phantom Ranch (PR) - mile 25.8 to 34.3
Distance: 8.5 miles
Plan: 15min/mile = 2hr 7mins
Actual: 2hr 6mins

I absolutely nailed this section. Having the knowledge of what the trail was like from the first run through, I knew exactly what to expect. The first miles felt difficult because the canyon was open and fully exposed to the sun. I felt like it was at least 80 degrees, and after putting a marathon distance on my legs, the motivation to run was lacking. I usually have a hard time eating any solid food when it gets really hot, and knowing that, I planned on just sticking to the Roctane and water for this section. That worked out well for me, and despite the heat I did still manage several short runs of 30 to 60 seconds. Whenever I had something big to step up and over, I did this ridiculous move where I stuck my poles over the step, then floated over with my weight on the poles and did this high knee step then butt kick with each leg. To anyone watching - there wasn't anyone around for miles - this probably would look really weird, but in my head it was a way to stretch my leg muscles and flex my knees and kept me feeling good (even if it was only mental).

After some amount of miles (5???) I finally made it to where the canyon narrows and the walls shoot up steeply on either side. From there you are back to running along the Bright Angel Creek again, and the temptation to jump in was through the roof. It was probably 20 feet down at most spots though, and I was already starting to cool off in the shade. I got to the point where I was only running through the sections that were sunny - so I could get back to the shade as quickly as possible.

As far as planning went, I absolutely nailed my expectation for this section, finishing within 1 minute overall of what I planned. I knew I would be able to maintain about a 15 minute mile pace even this far into the day, because I had done just that during Black Canyon where I managed two miles at that pace for mile 44 and 45. I also knew I would be riding a wave of excitement because I had planned to just hike the entire length of the Bright Angel trail. I flew into Phantom Ranch and went right passed the water spigot and had to turn back just a bit. The area was full of people and I was a pretty filthy sight, so I figured I would ask about the dumbest question imaginable - in an area of picnic tables that was completely covered in shade, I asked a table of people if there was anywhere to sit in the shade. My brain was a little bit fuzzy at that point, so I just filled up my bottles and heading up a trail a bit and found a nice flat rock to sit on directly next to the trail - I wasn't taking any unnecessary steps. My break was exactly 10 minutes, and that felt like enough to get up and get moving on the final climb of the day. I declared I was done running at this point, and would just hike up at whatever pace felt comfortable.

Phantom Ranch (PR) to Indian Garden (IG) - mile 34.3 to 39.4
Distance: 5.1 miles
Plan: 20min/mile = 1hr 42mins
Actual: 1hr 53mins

For the first time of the day, I got angry at the trail. Mostly because I hadn't looked at any elevation profiles of the actual course, just the data on the NPS site. I knew this section was going to gain 1300 feet over 5 miles, which isn't really that much - similar to the elevation change between Phantom Ranch and Manzanita. So I figured the 20 minutes per mile would be right on. The first two miles went great (18ish and 19ish minutes), with some easy rolling terrain that was gradually getting higher following along the river. This part of the trail is really sandy - almost felt like walking on the beach. Thankfully I wasn't worried about pace at this point. It was just time to grind out the last climb, no matter how long it took. I was feeling good to this point, but what I didn't count on was that around 1.5 miles in, the trail would descend almost all the way back to the river's level. This meant the next 3 miles would have all of the 1300 feet of gain, which slowed me down quite a bit.

I took a short break a little more than halfway through this section. I wasn't able to eat anything while I was moving, but sitting down and relaxing even for just a few minutes was enough to settle my stomach a bit to get some food down. Thank God for the discovery of the Gu Roctane - I will be using this as my go-to fuel in any future adventure runs or races. I drank it all day and never got sick of it, and when I couldn't handle solid foods it still provides a great source of calories. 

I kept trying to project my finish during this climb, but if I've learned anything it's hard to predict what your body will do after 10+ hours of intense activity. I had to battle some cramps, foggy brain/sleepiness, and just overall muscle fatigue for a while. The last half of this section was much slower than the first half, but I was happy to get to Indian Garden before it was dark. I had about 30 minutes before sunset, but it gets dark down in the canyon a while before that. I left IG right around 6:30pm, and thankfully at this point I had cell service and was able to text Katie that I was safe, where I was, and when I expected to finish (so she could come pick me up at the trailhead).

Indian Garden (IG) to Bright Angel Trailhead (BA) - mile 39.4 to 43.9
Distance: 4.5 miles
Plan: 25min/mile = 1hr 52mins
Actual: 2hr 10mins

Finally, one last section to go. Less than 5 miles but over 3,000 feet of elevation. At this point I was happy to be seeing a few other hikers here and there, either finishing their hike for the day, or a few that were hiking down to camp at Indian Garden. A few of them were shocked when I told them what I was finishing, but they all cheered me on and gave me great encouragement to finish. The goal at this point was simple - one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, get up to the top. Knowing there are rest houses - a.k.a. just a pit toilet I think - at mile 3 and mile 1.5, I made short term goals within this section. Get to each rest house, take a quick sit down break to eat and drink, then get moving again.

Once I got to the 3 mile rest house, the stars were coming out. For the first time in 12 hours, I put a layer of clothing back on! I had carried my jacket, gloves, long sleeve shirt, and running tights on the back of my pack since the morning at Phantom Ranch. Only now did I need to put the jacket back on to keep me warm since I was moving so slowly. The whole point was to have plenty of layers to stay warm IF I needed them. Turns out I didn't, but better safe than sorry.

Not much can be said about the grind of a steep climb in the dark when you are more than 40 miles into your day. Your muscles ache, your toes hurt, your blisters hurt, and brain might get a little foggy in the dark. I did stop a few times to just admire the millions of stars in the dark sky over the canyon. A few times I simply could not see where the trail went even though it was pretty obvious. I had to stop and shine my light all around - usually I would just see a big wall on one side and the trail just continued straight. My Walmart-grade headlamp wasn't the best, but it got the job done. 

Eventually, I would pass the 3 mile rest house, then the 1.5 mile rest house, then the 1 mile Lower Tunnel. My pace quickened with the excitement that I was almost done. The last mile or so had some snow so I walked carefully over it. I made the turn around the last switchback - where I had been watching for Katie to finish her hike on Wednesday - and I knew that she could see me now. I had less than half a mile to go and was just about finished. At the sign with the hiker that is puking his guts out because he hiked too far for the day, I had to stop and yell my favorite David Goggins saying at it - "YOU DON'T KNOW ME SON!" It is a good reminder that people should be aware of their own abilities, and a hike into the canyon can be dangerous if you aren't prepared. I knew full well what I was getting into. I knew from my past experiences that I could take down the Rim to Rim to Rim adventure run, and I had now done it! I was so thankful for a day with perfect weather, and that everything I learned from my previous disappointments had molded me into an athlete that could accomplish such a difficult feat in one day.

Food: Honey Bun and Ensure protein shake pre-run, 5 mini Snickers bars, 2 packs fruit snacks, 1 pack Clif Shotbloks, 2 servings potato chips, lots of handfuls of trail mix, big bacon double cheeseburger after finishing

Hydration: 100oz water, seven servings of Gu Roctane mixed with 20oz water - berry flavor

Gear: UltrAspire Momentum race vest, Hoka Speedgoat 3, Black Diamond Carbon Z trekking poles (used from Phantom Ranch at mile 7ish until finish), GoPro Hero 7 (video), iPhone 11 (photos)

Black Canyon 100k Race Report - Success Within Failure

February 13, 2021 at Mayer High School in Mayer, AZ
Race Result: DNF
Distance: 52.78 miles (51.2 race course)
Time: 13:33:11

Food: PopTarts and bagel pre-race, several Snickers bars, salted potatoes at every aid station, 1 grilled cheese, 1 quesadilla, 1/2 PBJ sandwich, 2 packs Clif Shotbloks, 2 packs chocolate chip muffins, fruit snacks

Hydration: 100oz water, 20oz Gatorade, 80oz Gu Roctane - flavors: tea, berry, grape, chocolate (protein recovery), 1 shot of Fireball

Gear: UltrAspire Momentum race vest, Hoka Speedgoat 3, Black Diamond Carbon Z trekking poles (planned for last 11 miles but didn't actually use them), GoPro Hero 7 (video), iPhone 11 (photos)

Strava - https://www.strava.com/activities/4783728175

GoPro Race Video - pretty shaky, don't want to put it together for a DNF. Need more practice to reduce shakiness.

 

I always like to write something after races to look back and remember days along this crazy running adventure that I'm on. It's been getting harder and harder to do these lately because it seems like I just don't finish races anymore. While I know that isn't exactly true - I did finish Quest for the Crest 35 miles in October - the sting from GDR in November was just starting to go away when I toed the line for this, certain I would finish no matter what. When that didn't happen for reasons to be explained, this time I feel much more satisfied with my result, and know had just a few things gone differently, I would be holding that finisher's buckle right now.

So let's start with my training - as most of you know we live on the road right now, like full time living in a 300sq ft RV with Katie and our 4 kids. After GDR recovery I built out a running plan based on time, and built up my weekly run totals from about 4 hours / 20ish miles to my peak training week of about 10 hrs / 50ish miles. I ran every day for several weeks (at least 15 minutes) but my longest run was only 2.5 hours where I covered 13 miles on a rocky trail. That is what I could justify with our family schedule, because a lot of weekends we are either driving all day to our next campground or going on family adventures. It wasn't a top priority for me to take 4-6+ hours to get in some really long training runs, even though I knew I probably needed that to have a good race. I did feel like the training I did was great as my pace was getting faster and I ran more and more miles. I've heard people say that if you can run 13 miles you can finish a 50k, I was going to put that to the test - and then some - by trying to finish 100k. Was that even possible? Definitely not recommended!

My friend Tony from NC was also running this race and we chatted a bit in the weeks leading up to race day. A big change for this race due to COVID restrictions was that they could only start 30 runners every 15 minutes. Not a big deal, but I was a little bummed my start time wasn't until 10:00am - that meant much less time in daylight. We put in a request to be moved earlier and both got bumped up to 9:00 - hey an extra hour is better than nothing. I was just thankful the race was actually happening after so many had been delayed or canceled, and that the race company was willing to work with the runners and move people around. We didn't really discuss a race plan but I knew Tony would be a lot faster than me. He is a much stronger runner and more experienced at these distances. The longest trail race I've done is 40 miles (once 3 years ago and the GDR DNF in November) so this was a huge jump. I figured I'd hang with him for a while as long as the pace felt easy or we were cruising on the downhill sections.

Race start - socially distanced,
masked up, only 30 runners

I used my new UltrAspire momentum race vest and was very happy with it. Plenty of storage spots on the sides for my snacks. Two pockets in the front for my phone and GoPro and a few other small things. Two pockets in the back that I put 20oz Gatorade bottles in - filled one with water and one with Gu Roctane - that stuff is awesome! My usual process at the aid stations was to fill my bottles, grab a few salted potatoes and maybe one other thing like a quesadilla or grilled cheese or PBJ, sit for just a short time to stretch, then walk out back on the course to eat and let it digest for 5-10 minutes before getting back to running (depending on the course).

Such a beautiful trail

The race started on a high school track, hit a short trail over to a road, then a few miles to the trailhead of the Black Canyon National Recreation Trail. 7 miles to the first aid, 6 to the second, a few small climbs, no stop needed at aid 1 because I got to eat a full breakfast and drink plenty before my 9:00 start time. Holy crap 12 miles under 2 hours!!! I haven't done that in a few years - mostly because I train for mountain climbing trail runs and do most of my long runs with walking mixed in. But we both had a few times where we checked in with each other and agreed that the pace felt easy and we weren't pushing too much.

Running with Tony for 31 miles

As we were rolling into Bumble Bee Ranch (aid 3), we were approaching 20 miles around 3hrs 30mins (faster than almost every 20 mile run I've done). We continued checking in with each other and both felt good to this point - although I was way ahead of where I expected to be at that time. This place was our first tough spot of the day. We had crazy winds all day and here it whipped up a huge dust cloud we had to run through to get to the aid. We also had a pretty big climb out of here that slowed our pace significantly. We weren't doing anymore 10/11 minute miles, instead there were now like 14/15. I wasn't too worried about that though - I knew my main goal was just to finish. I kept moving with Tony but got a feeling he wanted to push a bit more than I was comfortable so I told him a few times not to wait for me. He just said it's always better to run with someone and he was adjusting his goals too (later he said this was a real rough patch for him). He pulled ahead a bit but I was able to follow along maybe a minute behind. When we got to mile 24, I told him this was where our paths split but he kept me going and said let's just get to the next aid station together (which would be halfway).

Well stocked aid stations
with lots of options,
everyone required to
mask up while there

I still actually felt pretty strong to this point. I wasn't cramping or feeling extreme fatigue...yet. We grinded through the 7 miles to Soap Creek aid station. I ended up setting a new PR for my fastest 50k, just over 6hrs 30mins. Not a great idea for a 100k race, but I knew I wanted to get as many miles behind me as I could before it got dark. That is when I really struggle the most, probably because I'm not at all comfortable having only ran at night a couple times. I had 10.5 hours to run the next 50k and earn that buckle and a western states qualifier. "My body told me I had actually done something" is what I told Tony. I think we were together maybe a mile or so after that halfway point before we had our silent parting. No words needed, it was awesome to share that many miles on the trail, but eventually we had to run our own race.

Setting PRs, feeling good
still smiling

I felt great about getting the new PR. I don't care that it was a net downhill. It was on a trail, which is always slower than road. The trail has a lot of rocks but it is still very runnable - there are a few small sections where there is a pile of rocks but they only take a few seconds to safely navigate. The wind was a big equalizer on a lot of the downhill though - it felt so strong at times that even if I was running I felt like I was moving at a walking pace. We also had to cross a bunch of cattle guards and open/close a bunch of gates that keep the cattle inside the fences. Small inconveniences but still make you slow down and break pace, then have to restart again. This trail was beautiful though, surrounded by mountains on all sides for much of the race, and the cool saguaros were everywhere. Sometimes you just have to take a pause from the race to appreciate the beauty around you.

Back to the race - disaster struck in mile 33. Not in the normal way like being dehydrated and cramping or lack of energy from not eating. I made a dumb mistake. I watched the very informative pre-race video and read the runners guide and knew the flagging - orange is the course and there will be black and white checkered where you aren't supposed to go. So I'm alone at this point, no runner visible in front of me as we go up and down this windy dirt road. Up ahead on the side of the road I see a trail marker with the black and white checkered flagging wrapped around it and my mind says "don't go that way" - even though "that way" is to continue straight on the road. So I stopped and looked around to see if I missed a turn at which point another runner gets over the hill and we see flagging off to the left. It's pink but who cares, that must be the way to go. SO DUMB. We don't see a trail where those flags are, but looking further down the hill we see one that was actually the continuation of the trail where the wrong way flags indicated we weren't supposed to go. This whole time I had my phone on and could have quickly checked any number of apps and would have seen I should have continued straight. Unfortunately that didn't cross my mind until we were well over a mile off course. The trail dumped us out into a creek bed that was rocky and mucky and overgrown. We bushwhacked around for a while until we saw a trail that went up by someone's backyard, and thought that was actually the trail. When we got out to the road was when I looked at my phone and realized how bad things were - we had to go back down from where we came, follow the creek bed another mile, just to get back on course and have another few miles to the aid station. I was so frustrated at this point, knowing I had done extra mileage and wasted nearly an hour of time. But I was still determined to finish, even if it took 20 hours and I went 65 miles.

When I finally got to Black Canyon City aid mile 39, I needed some time to recover from that terrible experience. I probably took 20 minutes just sitting in a chair, mentally resetting, eating, drinking, chatting with other runners and changing clothes from my drop bag. It was about to get dark and I had been chilly for some time, thanks to the wind and my inability to move fast enough to stay very warm, so it was a good thing I had packed a long sleeve shirt here. The next aid station was 9 miles away and that's when I let the negative thoughts start to creep in. "I'm alone, it's dark, it's cold, it's windy, it's rainy (a tiny bit)" but I pushed them aside and kept moving. I took a few sit down breaks to scarf down some trail snacks and chug some Roctane and every time I did that I felt much better about 10 minutes after. I was to the point that I was only doing some running every other mile. I was pretty excited that I "ran" mile 44 in 15:38 with 130 feet of elevation gain. The miles I was completely hiking were around 18/19. It was somewhere in this section where my legs started to fail me though. I had no ability to pick my legs up off the ground anymore, I had used up all of my strength. My "running" was mostly just a quick shuffle, which resulted in kicking a lot of rocks, several almost trip-and-falls that jolt your whole body, and one really bad rock that I caught with the back of my heel as I stepped over and it flipped up and smacked my Achilles - that one made me yell in pain and still hurts 3 days after the race.

When I finally got to Cottonwood Gulch aid I knew Katie was less than 5 miles away at the only crew access point, so I just filled bottles and left quickly. 2 minute stop. I estimated about 90 minutes to get there and it was right around 9:00pm when I left the aid station. I still thought a sub-17 hour finish could happen as long as I made it out of Table Mesa by 10:40. From there, if I averaged 20 minute miles for the last 11 I could do it. My friends Dave and Julie are always giving me encouragement when I'm on runs like this. They were texting me for a while and I told them there was no quitting this time. I slowly managed my way through to Table Mesa knowing every 18 minute mile gave me a few minutes extra time buffer so I wouldn't have to race the clock. But another thought had been going through my head since the wrong turn - the idea of finishing the race after not doing the proper course felt like cheating. Although I ended up running extra miles, I didn't follow the directions and run the correct route. I struggled with what to do but didn't want to face what I consider to be the right decision - taking a DNF or what really would be a DQ. But my thought was to continue to the finish line and then tell the RD what happened and be gracious with whatever she decided.

None of that would matter though because once I stopped at the crew aid station, a switch flipped and I was DONE. I went from feeling ok on the trail to "I'm sick of being cold and alone in the dark and I just want to go home" in about two seconds. I sat in my chair and Katie used the massage gun on my quads and calves for a bit. Then I laid down to elevate my legs and she helped take off my shoes and put on my leg sleeves while I got on my jacket and gloves. When she went to fill my bottles I should have got back on the chair, because laying on the cold hard ground sucked any warmth away and I got really cold and started shaking from the chills. I went over to the medical tent to warm up by a space heater and wrapped up in a sleeping bag. That felt good but then my right calf locked up and I had a terrible cramp. I decided then that I was for sure done despite Katie doing everything she could to get me to rally and get back out on the trail. She was awesome and I'm so glad she was out there to help me. I just couldn't push the dark thoughts away enough to get back moving. From the comfort of my chair at home three days later, I'm sure if I had just got up and started walking down the trail, I would have been ok. In the moment though, sometimes that's really tough to do.

In the end this goes down as another DNF in a string of some disappointing races that I haven't finished. BFC x3, GDR and now Black Canyon. But there are lots of good takeaways from this one too. The training that I was doing was working, and with a few more months of build up I know I would have finished. This was the most dialed in I have ever been from a fueling standpoint for a race, and I can take that forward to other races. For trail racing, I went further than ever (53 miles) and later into the night (10:30pm) than ever before. That's the hardest part of these things for me - being alone in the dark sucks. I either need to get faster so I finish before sundown, or I need to do more long training runs on the trails at night to get a bit more comfortable. I'm definitely not going to stop doing races like this - I am already signed up for another 100k in October in North Carolina. I feel like each time I'm getting better at different aspects of ultramarathoning, and I'm going to start having some finishes soon!

How to die while running the Georgia Death Race

2020 Georgia Death Race COVID Edition
November 7, 2020 at Vogel State Park in Blairsville, GA
Hardest race I've ever attempted, made even harder due to course changes because of COVID. Only 55% finish rate, I was one of the 45% caught by the reaper.
Watch time: 14:06:00
Position: Run, hike, crawl, DIE! I made it 42+ miles before being completely exhausted and mentally drained.

 

Strava - https://www.strava.com/activities/4305127038

GoPro Race Video - ???

 

    I struggled for a week whether I wanted to write another DNF race report. It was hard enough after my Barkley Fall Classic fail last fall. But this one feels different. This one is a result I can live with, and I'm viewing it through a much different lens than I would have a year ago. See, I have this penchant for attempting races that tend to be well beyond my ability as a runner. I find joy in the suffering and pushing myself beyond what I think I'm capable. Sometimes I find that my ability is much more than I thought it was, and that is how I'm feeling after this effort.

    Georgia Death Race - the name itself is enough to strike fear into any runner. Once you dig into the stats it's even more frightening - 74ish mile point to point race with over 14,000 feet elevation gain and 11,000 feet of loss, with a 24 hour time limit. If only we were so lucky - thanks (no thanks) to COVID, there would be no point to point race due to the inability to shuttle runners from the finish to the start. This meant the route needed to be an out and back. Normally the race starts at Vogel State Park - we would begin a few miles from the park, run to Vogel and run the first 30 miles of the regular course, then turn around and run back. The first half is also the hardest part of the normal route, and the end result was a course that was 9 miles shorter but had 6,000 feet more elevation gain and 9,000 feet more loss (this is not a good thing despite how it may sound). Total stats - 65 miles, 20,000 feet of gain and loss.

    As with Quest for the Crest, this race was also going to happen in the spring. A March race would have been an absolute disaster after my break from running in January. So it was a blessing just to be able to do the race in the first place. The race start time was pushed back until 7:00am instead of the normal 5:00 (with a shuttle ride a few hours before that). My original plan was to just drive an hour and a half from our campsite the morning of the race, but I figured it would be smart to drive over the evening before so I could get as much sleep as possible before a potential all nighter. I was going to just sleep in a parking lot in the back of the car, but another runner offered a spot on the couch of a cabin he and some friends were renting. It's always fun to meet other trail runners so I took him up on that offer. After packet pickup, I grabbed some fast food on the way to the cabin. I walked in to find out that they were in the middle of grilling steaks and brats and had some for me. Awesome! We had a few beers, chatted about other races we've done, and got to bed before midnight.

 

    Up at 5:45 to eat some breakfast, load up the pack with mandatory gear - including the old railroad spike that is our burden for the race, get dressed and double check that we have everything. When you finish, you throw your old spike into a coffin and get an engraved spike for your finisher's award. Clint would start in the second wave at 7:10 and I didn't start until wave three at 7:20. I watched the other two waves take off up a very steep hill and wondered just how difficult this course would be. I didn't do my usual research of the course due to the late change and being so busy with the RV life. I like to figure out how hard each section of the course is going to be, and make a plan for how long each section should take for me to be able to finish. I was just going to wing it, and that is definitely a contributing factor to what happened later in the race. A few minutes before 7:20 (we were spread out enough since our group was fairly small) and we were off.

Early on at Vogel State Park

    After the initial climb up on asphalt, that was so steep I wondered how they paved it, we got onto what Run Bum referred to as "country club trails".  It was a very wide, slight downhill, grassy trail.  This was so easy but I was still holding back, knowing that there was so much left to do. After a few miles we ended up in Vogel State Park, where the race usually begins. There were some campers out making breakfast, some packing up camp, likely wondering what this big group of runners were doing running through the campground. It wasn't long before we turned onto the trail and had our first big climb of the day. This park is definitely somewhere I could spend a long weekend camping and running these trails, especially if (when) I attempt this race again. Unlike in Quest where I didn't eat or drink anything for the first few hours of the race, I was going to make sure I was eating and drinking plenty right from the beginning. After a mile or so of climbing, we had a very gentle two miles downhill. I thought about the fact that I would be doing all of this in reverse in the dark 20+ hours from now, and imagined what a death march that would be. But for now I was really enjoying the trail and the fact that the downhills were very run-able compared to the boulder fields of Quest. 

 

    Of course, I'm sure it's the case with any varsity level trail race like this, but as soon as you feel comfortable, just wait a minute and things will change. I was well aware of what was to come, but actually thought it was earlier in the race. At around mile 5.5 there is a climb that lasts for almost 4 miles and gains 2,200 feet. I hiked the entire thing and managed to stay around 20 minute miles. Mile 9 was in danger of taking 25 minutes, but I made sure that didn't happen by running uphill some. I thought to myself that nobody would ever build a race plan and expect any mile to take 25 minutes. But things don't always go to plan, and so you adjust and do what feels right at the time.

 

    Speaking of race plan, let's talk about that. As I said, I didn't do a lot of research on the course. Ideally, I would have known how much distance was between each aid station, where the major climbs/descents are, how much total elevation change for each segment, and time cutoffs. All I really knew was that there was a huge climb early that we would also hit towards the end, and then it was a lot of rolling hills. I wish I had some notes written out and possibly had a crew or Katie able to text me reminders of what I had upcoming. I set up my Garmin with the GPX file of the course that was "mostly accurate" according to Run Bum, and I had it build a pace plan for a 23 hour finish. That way if I could stick to that even if things fell apart later I would have an hour buffer. As for execution, I didn't really follow the paces it recommended. That is because to finish a 65 mile race, you only have to average 21 minutes per mile. Even on the downhill sections, I think the fastest pace it recommended for me was around 19:00/mile. I more used the pace targets as indicators of when the course would be a downhill run (19-21 pace), flat run (21-22 pace), uphill hiking (22-24), or soul-crushing staircase death crawls (24+). What I was really wanted to do was maintain a 3 mile per hour average pace, and build as much of a cushion on that as possible without pushing too hard. That was easy to get ahead even if I was running very slowly... for now...

 

    So that 25 minute mile 9 - I didn't feel too bad about that because I had covered the first 8 miles in exactly 2 hours. I had already built a 2 mile cushion and had the hardest climb out of the way. I was feeling great about how the start of the race was going, until I got to the first aid station around mile 10.5. At that point, my watch predicted (based on my average pace) that I would finish in 19 hours, however I was only 40 minutes ahead of the CUTOFF at AS1. I couldn't figure out that math, but I quickly realized that there wasn't any time to be messing around.  I knew a few people had probably made the mistake of thinking they could take things easy, trying to preserve themselves for later in the race, and didn't even make it past the first aid station. It makes sense to require a faster pace for the first half of the race, because as you start to tire, and especially once it gets dark, you will undoubtedly slow to a snail's pace.

    I knew that I just had to keep doing what I had been doing. Run the downhills as best I could, cautiously as the trails were all covered with leaves and there are some rocks here and there. Hike the uphills quickly and try to limit to damage as much as possible a.k.a. don't have any more 25 minute miles. The trail to aid station 2 was much shorter - only about 5 miles with a few up/downhills that were half a mile to a mile at a time. The last downhill was very steep (about 15% average grade) and I didn't run much of that. I covered the distance in about 90 minutes - an 18:00/mile pace - and lost 10 minutes on the cutoff! Chasing cutoffs would be an unexpected point of stress all day, something I hadn't anticipated to be worrying about until MUCH later in the race. We were allowed to put together drop bags for this point and one other in the race, and even though I had been eating at the aid stations,  I knew I should re-fill my pack from my drop bag, because AS 3 was only 2.5 miles away, but it would then be 8.5 miles to AS 4 and I would need plenty of my own food to eat on the long section.

    As I headed out, I checked my messages and updated some friends on my status. I saw the few other people I knew doing the race were doing well, a few miles ahead of me. I told my group that I was only a little bit ahead of cutoff and after some encouragement, they also told me I should get off my phone and move! That was great advice as I had no time to waste. The next section was only 2.5 miles, but the cutoff only allowed for 50 minutes. Not too terrible, a 20 minute pace, but I was already to the point where your body starts telling you that you have really done something hard. I ran this section in about 54 minutes, but then compounded the slower pace by spending too many minutes at the aid station. By the time I left, I was only about 15 minutes ahead of the pace, and had a really long section to go in 2hr 20 mins. This was going to be make or break time. I honestly didn't think I would make this cutoff.

Still feeling good

    One thing that did give me hope was that the time allowed for this section and the required pace (8.5 miles in 2hr 20mins = ~16:30/mile) might mean that this section would not be too difficult. This turned out to be true - there were a few climbs but for the most part is was either gently rolling hills or mostly downhill. I even managed a few "fast" miles in this section (14 minutes), but did have a few that were 20 minutes also. That was bad news. But even worse was that I ran out of water about 2 miles before the aid station. This would be a compounding problem, because as I couldn't drink, I got quite dehydrated and I got cottonmouth. I also had zero interest in eating a 15th mini Snickers or more potato chips. The dry mouth made it very hard to swallow anything anyways, so I pretty much had no nutrition going in at this point.

 

    I started doing some math and realized that my race was going to come down to how quickly I could get in and out of the next aid station (cutoffs are based on when you leave the AS). The website said the cutoff here was 8 hours. We were around 7hrs 50mins when I heard the volunteers cheering us in. I mentioned to two runners next to me that I thought we were now in last place, because nobody else was going to make this cutoff. It would have to be a quick stop, no time to get anything out of my drop bag, and maybe just time to fill up my water and hope that would be enough. But WAIT - the volunteers told me cutoff was at 3:40 (we started at 7:20), and it was only 3:20 - I had found an extra 20 minutes! They must not have updated the race time for the cutoff (which I had been looking at), but the time of day for the cutoff was indeed accurate. This gave me some new life. I knew now that if I could just make it up to the turnaround point, I might be able to start building a little advantage over the cutoff times.

 

    After a few minutes at the aid station filling up my water and trying unsuccessfully to eat some food (bacon and quesadillas just weren't working this time), I left for the turnaround point right at 8 hours race time. 4.5 miles, 1hr 40mins to do it. This would begin my unraveling. I drank enough water that I wasn't thirsty anymore, but still had no appetite, and now my stomach was starting to make me feel nauseous. There were also two soul-crushing climbs - 700 feet in 1.5 miles immediately after leaving the aid station, followed by two miles down, and finally a 550 foot climb in 1 mile. By themselves these don't sound difficult, but after nearly 27 miles and 8 hours of hard work, they were brutal. I was still moving relatively well on the two downhill miles (16 and 18 minutes), but the second climb made me really doubt my ability to finish - a race-worst 27:34 mile. It really got into my head what I was actually approaching - not the halfway point, a moral victory that I was going to be halfway done in under 10 hours, with 14 hours to do the second part. Like a load of bricks dropped on my shoulders, it hit my mind that this was a TURNAROUND! I would have to go back and cover all of that same brutal ground I had already done. I tried to take some time and recover a bit with some ginger ale and salted potatoes. That food worked well, probably because it wasn't something that was really dry. But I probably should have eaten 10 times as much as I did. Feeling rushed, I left the aid station at 5:10 - still 20 minutes ahead of the cut. I hadn't lost any time race wise, I was still in good shape physically, but that isn't always enough. The mental game was starting to take a toll.

    One thing that helped despite how slow I was going was the constant encouragement from other runners who had already turned around. Everyone always gives you a "great job" or "nice work" or "keep it up" or "looking good" as we pass each other. I had a steady stream of that from the time the leader passed me when I was at mile 25 - he was at 40 and looked like he hadn't even broken a sweat. I was looking forward to more friendly encounters after I made the turnaround. However, that was short lived, as there were only 3 people behind me. I gave each of them precise amounts of their remaining distance and time before cutoff, but I don't think any of them made it. It was then that I realized I really was now in last place. No hope of someone catching up to me and we encourage each other to keep going. No more "good job" or "keep it up" encouragement. The sun was starting to set on the other side of the mountains as well as on my race. My one hope was that we were going back down the soul-crushing hills we had just climbed, and if I could keep a 20 minute pace I might be able to get to the Point Bravo aid station when some other runners were still there and we could head out together. 

 

    And that's exactly what I did - 19, 22 (on the climb), 20 and 19 minute miles. Rolled into the AS at 6:50, 11hrs 32mins into the race, and still 20 minutes up on cutoff. I was somehow also still ahead of my goal of 3MPH - I even had a 28 minute cushion on that average pace. But the night is dark and full of terrors. After complaining to the volunteers that I still couldn't eat, they pointed out all of the awesome food I had in my drop bag - Snickers, honey bun, Swedish Fish, peanut butter pretzels. I grabbed a few things and stuffed them into my pockets, where they would end up staying until I was done, except for a few Swedish Fish I ate in my last mile. I tried eating some bacon as I left the aid station, and after chewing it for 3 or 4 minutes I realized there was zero chance I was going to swallow that, so I spit it out.

    The next climb was really tough. Because I hadn't eaten much food for probably four hours now, I had zero energy. A thousand foot climb is the last thing I wanted to tackle. I was going as fast as I could, hanging with another man and woman in silence, nobody saying a word, suffering together, continuing to move forward with purpose. A one point they even said I could pass them if I wanted to, which I laughed because then I would be alone. I was barely holding on to the pace they were setting. Two miles took us 55 minutes and I realized that I was pretty quickly losing any extra time I had on the cutoff. Just keep moving, what goes up must come down, I think? I honestly couldn't remember anything about the course that I had just done the opposite direction not two hours ago. To make things worse, I had to stop for 30 seconds to step off trail to use nature's bathroom, and I sadly watched a couple of headlamps disappear into the distance, and I truly felt all alone out there on the mountain.

 

     Finally I hit a downhill and did some jogging, and managed a 20 minute mile. At this point, that felt REALLY fast. But not fast enough to catch up to my friends. Truth be told, I was just happy to be moving and not falling on my face on the dark trail with rocks covered by leaves. I laughed at the fact that I have only done maybe one or two trail runs in the dark. What an idiot I was to think Georgia Death Race was a good place to learn how to do night trail running! The excitement of the downhill mile was short lived, as I was soon climbing again. Mile 40 was crossed in 13hrs 8mins. I thought about the Barkley Fall Classic, and how the finish cutoff time for that race is 13:20, and surely what I had just done was harder than any BFC I had attempted. It was a little victory that I didn't appreciate during a race that was spiraling down the drain - but I do appreciate looking back now as a reflection on my progress as an ultra runner. More good news that I couldn't process - we were nearing the top of the climb before we descended a little over a mile down to the aid station. I started seeing lights of runners coming back up. The camaraderie I had been craving for so long was back. I think I passed ten or so runners and that was great. But what wasn't great was my ability to move - we were going downhill and I could barely walk. At this point approaching 14 hours, there was just a lot going wrong. Lots of blisters/hot spots, legs were cramping from lack of food (and really lack of training), and the worst thing that can happen at any race - I gave up mentally.

 

The allure of a fire and a beer,
a moth into the flame

    It took me over 28 minutes for mile 42 and I knew I was done. I had finally given up my advantage on the 3MPH average, and I was most likely going to miss the cutoff at Skeenah Gap. To make things worse, what I thought was a 1 mile descent just kept going and going. I couldn't even see the aid station, much less hear it. I texted Katie to tell her I was done, and she did what every great spouse would do - she called me and told me to get my butt in gear. What would Goggins say - "YOU DON'T KNOW ME SON!" I laughed and thanked her for trying to encourage me, but told her I was fairly sure I was done. All I could think about was how miserable it would be to climb back up this 1.3 miles that I averaged a 30 minute mile going down.  Finally it came into view, but I only had 5 minutes before cutoff. I got news from the last runner I saw that should have perked me up and got me excited - they were extending the cutoff by 30 minutes here! I told him that was the last thing I wanted to hear because I wanted to time out. Clearly I wasn't the only one - I rolled into that aid station and it was full of runners who were calling it a day. The aid workers had music blasting, lots of hot food, but what they also had was a fire pit and a beer. As I checked in with them, I told them I was most likely done. I sat in a chair away from the fire for 5 minutes to be sure, and after chatting with a few others about how tough it would be to climb back up, I moved the chair over to the fire and asked for that beer. I gladly accepted my DNF.

    Final stats - 42.32 miles, 14hrs 6mins, 19:59 average per mile. I still had 23 miles remaining and nearly 10 hours to cover that distance. It turns out that the cutoffs were extended even more throughout the night because of how much more difficult the course was than the "normal" route, even up to 25hrs 30mins for the finish cutoff. I only had to average 2 miles per hour to finish in that time. That stung a little when I found that out in the morning, as even my absolute worst mile was still under 30 minutes. My lack of course analysis is a big factor in me allowing myself to quit - had I known what the course had ahead of me I would have continued - from Skeenah I had to climb back up 1.3 miles, but then the course was fairly flat with small rolling hills for 4 miles. First time through there (mile 18-22) I averaged around 15 minutes a mile - surely I could have walked 25 minute miles? Then from there it would have only be 2.5 miles to the next aid station, and anyone can walk that far! I let that kick around in my brain for a few days after the race, and kicked myself for not having been mentally tougher, but decided I can't dwell on what might have been. I made the best decision I could based on the circumstances I was in. I'm proud of what I accomplished and I'm already looking forward to giving it another shot - maybe on the regular course next time.

    So what will I do differently? A lot of things, honestly. One thing that really made things difficult was the pack I was using. It's the same pack I have used for the past 4 years way back when I needed something to wear when training for a half marathon in North Carolina summer heat. It's a perfectly fine pack for shorter distances, but it didn't do the job this time. Once I had it filled up with all of the mandatory gear, the main compartment was so full that the hydration bladder could barely fit in there. That's most likely why I ran out of water and started the downward spiral - when I "filled up" at the aid station it probably wasn't even half full. Also the outer pockets are small, the front pockets are very small as well, and the side pockets are very difficult to reach without taking the pack off. In short, I couldn't comfortably carry and have easy access to enough food and water and gear. I've already remedied this situation with a new pack that should work much better on very long outings like this.

    The other thing I need to do is figure out how to actually train for these things! Although I had a lot of great runs in the six weeks or so leading up to this race, that wasn't nearly enough. I had some of my best 20 mile trail runs ever, and felt I did pretty well at Quest for the Crest, but the fact is I didn't have nearly enough weekly mileage and elevation gain to be fully prepared for this race. Most weeks I didn't even have 30 miles of running. I checked Strava for one guy I know that finished, and he was consistently running at least 50 miles a week. The change in life circumstances did make it difficult to keep a consistent schedule, but I also slacked off a lot when I could have made time i.e. getting up for early morning runs, or hitting the gym. That can all be resolved by setting my mind to being committed to getting better daily.

    There are some other small things, such as finding some more variety in food that I can eat, or being able to have more options for drinking instead of just water (the new pack can hold up to 4 bottles so I could have Tailwind, Gatorade, etc). Doing research on the course ahead of time and knowing what each section has in store, so when things get tough and seem overwhelming I can know how bad the course really is - or isn't. Running on trails at night to get more comfortable with running in the dark. I also need to stop being so prideful and thinking I can do these things all by myself, and ask for help in the form of a crew. Katie has done this several times for me, and does text/call me during races when she isn't there, and she is always awesome and a huge help. I can't try something like this without her, or someone else in her place if she can't make it.

    Final thought - Mistakes were made. I gave it my all. It wasn't enough. Next time I'll be better. Can't wait.