2017 Barkley Fall Classic 50k

Barkley Fall Classic 50k
September 16, 2017 at Frozen Head State Park in Wartburg, TN
Watch Time: NO GPS
Chip Time: 11:48:46
Position: 118 of 178 marathon finishers / 120 50k finishers / several DNF

 

“This is the Varsity of ultra-running,” he told me as I walked from the yellow gate to Laz, two hours past the cut off to attempt the full distance.  “I don’t think I was even qualified to try out for the freshman team.”

Back Story

Let’s rewind a year when I knew nothing of the Barkley Marathons until I joined a group of runners near where I live in NC.  Then I watched the Netflix documentary and saw a new level of running insanity – and thought it was awesome.  I was struck by John Fegyveresi’s story about seizing the moment and taking a chance to do something in the here and now, because you never know where your life will take you or what could happen tomorrow.  That echoed almost exactly the reason why Katie and I had decided to move from Michigan and take our family an adventure down south.  When I found out about the Fall Classic and a chance to get a taste of what the big one is all about, I signed up.  Even though the race was full, I got put on a wait list, which would get me early notice for entry in 2018.  I would surely need at least a year to train for something like this.

Summer running in NC was a new experience for me.  It was brutal with the heat index routinely over 100 degrees, and when it wasn’t that hot, there was 100% humidity and running felt like swimming.  But I had a marathon coming up in October – the Marine Corps Marathon in DC.  So I slowly started building up my mileage, even trying interval run/walking for a while to extend my distances until the weather cooperated and I didn’t have nagging injuries from my ridiculous spring race schedule (3 full marathons and 1 half marathon within 7 weeks).  I built up to a long run of 16 miles until…..

Weeks before race day

10 days before some of the best ultra-runners would face down the giant that is the Barkley course, Laz was desperately trying to make sure his race was full of runners that would show.  Because of Hurricane Irma, or injuries, or fear, or whatever the reason, several registered runners continued dropping out and he was trying to pull in people from the wait list.  At one point, even listing 100 people from the top of the wait list and said whoever responds gets one of the 16 available spots.  Could I possibly be on the list?  I scroll through and carefully read every name…. nope not on it.  But I was dumb enough to respond to his post, saying that I was probably near the bottom of the waitlist but would love a chance to toe the line.  In less than a minute, he responded to me and simply said “check your email”.  My heart was bursting from my chest as I read “You have been selected to participate in the 2017 The Barkley Fall Classic – 50K! … confirm or decline your entry …”  A quick text to my awesome wife and figuring out what to do with the kids for the weekend (since she had a conference for school the same day), and I was naively clicking the Accept button.

What was I thinking? My long run had only been 16 miles.  I have never run on technical trails.  Elite runners from all over the world come do this race, I don’t belong in that group.  I have only done one 50k in Michigan 4 years ago, and that had one steep hill that maybe lasted 1/10 of a mile.  Could I even make it up Rat Jaw, a hill that by all accounts is a bit over 1 mile long with steady inclines of 45 degrees?  Maybe not, but I am just dumb enough to give everything I have and hope it is enough.  It felt like everything came together perfectly for this to happen.  About a month ago, I had purchased my first hydration pack and had been wearing it on long runs to get used to the feeling.  I was given a pair of the same shoes I have worn for my past 400 miles running, but they had only been used just a bit and had tread almost like new.  Within an hour of registering, I had a cabin to share with 3 other runners because the guy who booked it had 3 friends who decided to DNS.  I was meant to run this race.

Friday I was driving to Wartburg Tennessee.  The mountains taunted me and my little Kia for 7 hours.  At some points I realized my car was struggling, and I was going to be using my own motor to climb mountains steeper than this tomorrow!!  I finally drove past the park entrance and decided I needed to see these hallowed running trails.  I took a short jog/hike from the trail head to loosen up my legs after being in the car so long.  I thought it wasn’t too bad, but knew better than to think the whole trail would be like that.  In fact, not a single part of the run was that easy.   I headed over to packet pickup/pre-race dinner/viewing of the Netflix doc, and met the legendary sadist.  We took a quick pic and he said that today felt like his Rat Jaw – despite his notoriety he is still just a regular dude that I’m not sure is really comfortable with all the attention from strangers.

One thing I had to make sure to do for this race was putting a semi-colon on.  Since joining HSRC this symbol has come to mean so much more to me.  It is a symbol about people who have to face mountains every day and choose to climb them instead of turning back and giving up.  I would need to draw strength from pain for this race, just as so many of my friends have shared with me about struggles in their lives and how they have overcome them.  I put one on each leg, right above my knees, so when I was climbing up hills and bent over in pain, I would see them and know I could push on and keep going.

Race Day

Beautiful sun rays through the trees

I met many people who had ran in previous years, and they all eventually told me that there was nothing they could tell me to prepare me for what was to come.  So what was that?  We start in a campground grass parking lot and Laz lights his ceremonious cigarette to signify the start of the race.  I started near the front as “someone who wants to go fast”, meaning I just hoped to get ahead of the slow moving conga line.  We run a mile down the road before we turn onto a single track trail with ups and downs (mostly ups), some switchbacks, and basketball sized rocks – which I would later refer to as landmines waiting to blow up your race.  This climb was supposed to be “easy” compared to the others, but a park map told me that it has almost 1600 feet elevation change over 3ish miles, most of that being gain.  The typical route for hill training I ran at home – Crossway Challenge – is about 400 feet of gain over 3.6 miles.  I would later read this advice: “Take the elevation training you think you need to do. Now double it and quadruple the incline.”  I start looking for the first aid station, which is at “exactly” 4.3 miles.  I don’t get there until 8:10ish.  What!? 17 minutes per mile??? They actually told us we were on a good pace so far…

The fog of Frozen Head

What comes next can’t be expressed in words.  They are the hills with well-known names that strike fear into the hearts of anyone who has experienced them.  Testicle Spectacle, Meth Lab Hill, and Rat Jaw.  These are “trails” that follow the power line cuts through the mountain side.  I described them to Katie as this – imagine running/walking/crawling on your roof.  Now extend it for a mile.  Cover it in mud because of remnants of Hurricane Irma that hit the area the few days before.  I’m talking the kind of mud that can suck your shoe right off, or forces you to go down a mud slide and hope you can grab on the saw briars to stop yourself before you tumble over the next edge.  You will later use those horrible briars to pull yourself up those mud slides, so you don’t continually slide back down.  And sprinkle in some rocks, because it’s too easy without the rocks.  Going down TS and the first slide, a guy misplaced one step, and tucked into a forward summersault into a pile of briars off the trail.  After I checked that he was ok, I said “if it helps you feel better, you made it look graceful.”  He laughed so I knew he was ok.  The danger and the beating my legs took were worth it.  Have you ever stood on the top of a clear cutting down a mountain, and stared down into a valley of fog that is burning up from the rising sun shining between the trees?  It’s a sight that can’t be described.

Down TS, cross a stream with water almost knee high, to a quick aid station being worked by several young men – maybe 10 year olds.  One filled my camelback and said I looked great and asked if I was having fun.  I said yes and asked him if he planned on trying this when he was old enough.  And he said absolutely.  Cross a bridge and right back up TS.  Get to the top and what do we have next?  Yep right back down the other side of the road on Meth Lab Hill.  Sliding down the mud slides made this race sound like a bunch of kids at a water park going down water slides, whooping it up.  I go down one so fast that when I stand up a break into a run to keep from face planting.

Light at the end of the tunnel, or a freight
train coming your way?

At the bottom of ML is the prison, and I will get to cross the first timing mat – that would let Katie know I was still alive, which was my only instructions for the weekend – “DON’T DIE!”  First I hit the aid station before the prison, and thought it would be a good idea to drink a Pepsi and eat a Snickers.  I have had Coke in races before, but it has always been flat and warm.  The mixture of carbonation and a morning full of trail food started a horrendous gurgling in my stomach as I started walking.  I was sure I was going to lose it and puke in front of everyone and end my race right there, until I saw the “Bus of Disgrace” waiting to haul me back to the start.  I wasn’t about to let a little bit of Pepsi be the thing that stops me, so I caught my breath, got my heart rate down, and kept moving.  Cross the timing mat just after 11:00 and I’m told I am still in good shape to meet the cutoff at Laz.  10.1 miles “exactly” in 4 hours, now averaging almost 24 minutes a mile.

Hurting at the top
of Rat Jaw

Through the prison, climb over the prison wall, and escaped through the drainage tunnel to be met with the beast that is Rat Jaw.  This unrelenting climb is everything that TS and ML are, mixed in with forest overgrowth over your head at points.  I get quite a few rat bites on my legs and arms, and had to stop a couple times on the way up.  People are cramping left and right and stepping off the trail.  For a while I was content to go at their pace, but eventually had to push ahead and conquer the Rat on my own.  The photographer at the top perfectly captured my exhaustion, but the elation I also felt at having just climbed the most difficult part of the Barkley course was nowhere to be seen on my face.  I just spent 1 hour and 25 minutes to go about 1 mile.  The reward for beating Rat Jaw is a climb up to the lookout tower, three flights of extremely steep stairs and the most incredible 360 view of the mountain range.  My favorite part of the course.

Do you know what the most delicious beverage in the world is?  I discovered that it is Tennessee tap water with 3 big scoops of ice from a hydration pack from the aid station after climbing Rat Jaw.  Never have I felt so refreshed, and the ice in my pack sitting directly on my back had a cooling effect on my core, so much so that I felt ok to run despite how sore my legs were.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but it had taken me 5.5 hours to go exactly 11.3 miles, and now I only had 4 hours to go another “11”.  My day was done but I didn’t know it so on I went.  The next few hours taught me why the race was subtitled “Can You Beat The Rat?”  By having Rat Jaw early in the course, we thought it was good that the hardest part would be out of the way early.  But the Rat doesn’t give up just because you climb it.  The Rat festers, and waits for the perfect chance to strike when your guard is down.  You think you beat me?  Here have a cramp in your quad.  You took care of that with some food and water?  What about your toes going numb, or feeling like your entire foot is one large blister?  How about 3 trees covering the path that you have to climb over?  Then more cramps and more physical misery, and the mental battle has not gone away as the trail is always technical and one slip up could be the difference between walking out and being carried out.

A few times the small group I was with thought we were off the trail, so we stopped to confirm with our map and compass where we were, even though none of us really knew how to use them properly.  But unlike the big Barkley, this course generally stays on the trails with blazes, and we could still see those so we kept moving.  We did hit a few spots to confirm we were still on course.  We get a bib punch at the Garden Spot, which is the most north east corner of the park.  Finally hit the aid station and they tell me it’s only 6 more miles to Laz.  I check my watch and it is 2:45pm, and I have 1 hr 45 mins before cutoff.  I quickly do some math and think I need to average 16-17 minutes per mile to get there.  I will have to fly but I can still do this!

One of our group quit at this point, he just couldn’t take any more, even knowing that a marathon finish was easily within his grasp.  I refused to give up and went on, power hiking up the mountain.  Up to the top we go, then start back down and we are running recklessly.  Fastest I have gone all day, but we are racing a clock and just want a chance to go for the full distance.  Clock passes 4:00pm and we know we are going to cut it close.  Please don’t let me be like the guys I talked to this morning, who took too long on Rat Jaw last year and missed cut off by 1 minute.  We hear the creek that runs near the camp and get excited that we are going to make it.  Then it comes into sight.  Where is Laz?  Where are the people cheering us in that we beat the cut off?  They aren’t there.  We quickly check our map and realize that we still have Bird Mountain left to climb, and the realization that we won’t have a choice once we reach the check point.  

My heart sinks.  I feel very disappointed and that I let a huge opportunity go to waste.  I begin a long slow meaningless climb up, getting angry every time there is another switchback.  People keep passing me asking if I’m ok.  I’m fine physically but mentally broken.  The Rat has beaten me.  Then I stop and consider what I have done.  I was able to go probably twice as far as I have ran since April – a marathon finish will end up being over 30 miles from what I’m told by others (the 50k tracked at 41 miles on one guy’s FitBit).  Just 10 days ago, it had been a dream to run at the Barkley, and now I had done it.  I had the balls to tackle Testicle Spectable, went over the prison wall, through the drain tunnel, and made it up Rat Jaw.  I didn’t get lost or injured after spending almost 12 hours “out there”.  Slowly I realized that I could be extremely proud of what I had accomplished.  So I decided to just enjoy whatever time I had left until I got to Laz.  Those last “6” miles took me 4 hours.  I was able to get a picture at the famous yellow gate, where the Big Barkley loops start/end.  I couldn’t imagine going out to do another loop AT NIGHT like some do.  When I rolled in to the cutoff point a full 2 hours late, I told Laz that I thought he took extra pleasure in letting in untrained, unqualified idiots like myself into this race, to which he just chuckled.  Yeah, I was right.

The Barkley Fall Classic is a race.  There is a winner and there are those that DNF and everything in between.  There is a time limit that you must beat, or you are timed out and don’t get a choice to continue on.  But it is so much more than a race.  It is a mental game; a test of your will; your desire; your human spirit.  Can you face the mountain and choose to climb it with courage, knowing that it might beat you down?  And when it does almost cause you to quit but you persevere and get to the top, you must be prepared to have to do it all over again.  No matter what the course throws at you, it is within you to beat it – you just have to dig deep to find it.

“This is the Varsity of ultra-running,” he told me as I walked from the yellow gate to Laz, two hours past the cut off to attempt the full distance.  “I don’t think I was even qualified to try out for the freshman team.”  “No way, you faced the giant and did something very few have done.  You should be proud.”  

Maybe with getting a marathon finish, I at least proved that I’m too stubborn to quit even when something is ridiculously difficult.  I won’t say I have unfinished business with Barkley but that if given the opportunity again, I will jump at the chance... not necessarily to chase the cut off and try to earn the croix, but to put myself to the test and climb the big mountains again.

2017 Myrtle Beach Marathon

Myrtle Beach Marathon
March 4, 2017 in Myrtle Beach, SC
Chip Time: 4:04:11
Position: 522 of 1,239 overall / 61 of 101 age group

Yes there will be rambling…. TLDR :)

Back Story
I ran my first marathon April 2013 when I lived in Michigan.  I had a goal in mind and cramped at mile 15 then ran/walked the rest of the way - finished almost 40 minutes slower than I had predicted.  I decided running was stupid, didn't run all summer, ran a 50k I had signed up for before the marathon, then pretty much gave it up for 3 years.  Fast forward to December 2015 and we moved to NC from MI, and I would keep my job and be working from home all the time.  After a while I starting missing the friendships I had with my co-workers and actually seeing people face to face.  My wife knew some HSRCers so I decided to go for a few runs and meet some people who are now like family.  Before I knew it I was talked into running a marathon again.

Training
After running a few half marathons in the fall, I picked up a plan online that was basically just to finish a marathon – just running miles without purpose or target paces.  I didn’t feel like I was challenging myself enough, and after seeing Norm use the Run Less Run Faster program at CoO and then go sub-4 at Charleston, I decided to drink that kool aid and switched to that plan for the last 7 weeks of training.  I used a 5k time that was maybe a few seconds faster than I was capable of, but would give me a plan to train with and hit 4 hours.  The runs were tough but I always hit the goal pace or slightly faster.

Pre-race

The week leading up to the race was a bit stressful.  My oldest daughter got hit with the flu Sunday before, starting with a fever and then vomiting.  By Tuesday, 3 of the 4 had the fever and I was ready to start looking for somewhere else to live for a few days.  Then the aches from tapering started to set in and I began to panic that I was getting sick.  I went on a few short walks to keep my legs fresh (and get out of the house!) and focused on what I could control – eating right and drinking tons of water.  By Friday the kids were feeling better, so we packed up and drove down to our hotel.  Met up with Dave to go to the expo, got some dinner, and talked about how we were both ready to crush this race.

Race Day: Alarm went off at 4:15 so I could start eating and do an Edgar or two (thanks for the FB reminder Brian Terwilliger!).  Didn’t quite eat the 5 bananas and loaf of bread suggested by Owais, but I was fueled up and ready to race.  It was 38 degrees (felt like 32) but knowing I will be running for a long time and it could heat up, its shorts and an HSRC t-shirt today, because #nopants.  Up to the Duhons room to catch a ride to the start – thankfully didn’t have to walk 1.5 miles before running a marathon.  Also got our semi-colons drawn on, something that really means a lot to me.  Got to the start line, did our HSRC group picture, told Dave to go get his BQ, and then time to line up.

Race Day

My plan was to start right behind the 4:00 pacer and keep him in sight, then catch him by mile 20 and stay ahead for the rest of the race.  I just had to make sure that I didn’t start too fast like I always do.  They played a recording of Whitney Houston’s famous version of the National Anthem, a cannon blast started the race, and we were off!  I crossed the timing mat and started the metal – this marathon would be powered by non-stop Metallica.  I rarely run with music, but I knew I would be on my own for a while and it would give me something to pay attention to instead of my watch.

The first mile went by relatively smoothly.  Despite the loud music, I remember hearing all the feet pounding the pavement together and thinking it sounded like a pouring rainstorm hitting a window.  Mentally kept telling myself that I don’t have to run a single second faster than 9:00/mile to hit my goal, so when I passed the 1 mile sign and checked my watch and it said 8:30, I kinda freaked out.  But the actual distance on my watch said 0.88, so I knew I was ok.  Then I started wondering if the course was going to be short and got mad that I wouldn’t get an official marathon on my Garmin!  About this time I saw a pacer flag run up next to me and I looked over and saw it said 4:15.  I surged ahead and told myself that was the last time I would ever see that sign.  However, until about mile 6, at each mile I kept hearing him over my shoulder calling out the group’s pace and saying they were going to back off a bit.  At that point I was slightly ahead of where the 4:00 pacer should have been, and couldn’t even see him anymore.  Pacers would be a problem with this race.  Just before the 10k timing mat was an aid station, so as I had planned to do at all of them for the race, I walked through and got a cup of water.  There was an out-and-back section here and I saw the 1:45 half pacer, so knowing Dave was shooting for 3:27 I looked for him and Joel and saw them running the other way.  They were a mile ahead of me already and both looked strong.  I yelled some encouragement their way and continued on.  I hit the 10k mat and instantly started thinking about my HSRC friends that were tracking us, and imagined them yelling at me that I was going too fast.  I thought of Mark at our Tobacco Trail 20 miler telling us we were 26 seconds ahead of the virtual pacer and needed to back off a bit.  The tracking said I was averaging 9:00/mile, but with the first mile being short I was right where I wanted to be and felt great.

Around the next turn, a guy patted me on the shoulder and said something like ‘good job Holly Springs’.  I looked and didn’t recognize him, but found out he was from Fuquay and knew about HSRC from Facebook.  I was now on the other side of the out-and-back part where I had seen Dave before.  I looked for any other HSRCers and saw Doug Stein looking strong – he would go on to a PR.  Soon we turned onto Ocean Blvd and what I had been dreading – 9ish miles next to the ocean with a headwind.  Wouldn’t have been such a problem if I was with a group, but despite still being a minute or so ahead of where the pacer should have been, he was nowhere to be seen.  

When I hit mile 10, I grabbed my phone out of the belt to send Katie a quick text, to let her know that I would be running by our hotel in a few miles, knowing she had to get 4 kids around.  The plan was going to be to drop off the fuel belt and phone and just take a hand held bottle the rest of the way.  But I was in the zone, a well-oiled machine as I kept telling myself, as the miles kept ticking off with only a few seconds variance from my goal pace.  So I just wanted my sunglasses and a refill of my bottle and some more shot blocks.  At mile 11 it was time for some more Blocks but when I reached into my belt, they were gone!  They must have fallen out when I got my phone out, which I found funny because the night before, Katie said that might happen so we had extra, and I said there was no way I would drop any.  Good thing we are meeting in another mile, however this is where I would make the mistake that might have cost me hitting my ultimate goal.  When I saw her at 12.5 miles at our hotel, I switched out my empty bottle of Gatorade for a full one and grabbed a pack of blocks.  Made sure she opened them for me since I still had my gloves on (I was STILL cold).  I didn’t mention that I had dropped a whole pack, but if I would have she would have been with it enough to have me take two packs of blocks instead of one.  I thought I would see her again before the finish, but what I didn’t know was that my daughter’s fever had returned that morning, and I wouldn’t see them again until the finish.

After meeting Katie, and the half had split off, the crowd really started to thin out.  There was a guy named Matthew that I realized I had basically been running with side by side since the beginning so I quickly asked him what he was shooting for – same as me.  We both agreed we would run together for a while and do our best to get each other to our goal.  After the crossing the half way timing mat just under 2 hours, I looked ahead and had a good laugh at myself.  You know you have spent a lot of time around a run club when you start to recognize people by how they run.  Especially when it is someone you haven’t actually ran with, or even introduced yourself to.  For some reason I knew the guy up ahead of me was Duncan Brewer, from seeing him run many times with his group at Lowe’s on Saturday.  Sure enough as I got closer I saw he was wearing an HSRC shirt.  As I caught up I said hello and finally introduced myself to him.  It was very cool to be 3 hours away from home and still seeing people I could talk to and encourage.

It wasn’t until just after the 18.3 mile timing mat that I realized I had actually started to sweat!  At this point I hadn’t seen Katie so I figured she would just see me at the finish.  I still felt great although wondered if I would hold up for another 8 miles with just Gatorade.  I knew they had GU on the course but I hadn’t taken any during training so I didn’t want to risk it messing up my stomach.  Plus at this point my pace was still right on target.  I was still running with Matthew but it felt like our pace had slowed just a tad.  I looked over and he looked like he was hurting.  I asked if he was still good and he said he felt gassed.   We made it to the aid station near mile 20.  All race, I had been walking them while he would jog through and drink, and then I would catch up to him afterwards and we would give each other a little head nod that we were still good.  After this one when I was ready to go, I looked back and he was still walking.  At this point we both understood it was time to run our own race and off I went, grateful for his company and hoping I could do this on my own for a 10k.

We went off road and hit a greenway that ran next to the highway.  It reminded me of the Bass Lake Greenway I have run so many times.  It was a nice break from being on a road.  Here is where a lot of people – and I mean almost everyone – had started walking.  I kept picking off people, thinking of friends telling me how much it helps knowing you are still winning the mental battle.  I remember checking my watch here when it was exactly at 3:27 and hoping that Dave was finishing up his BQ.  Near the end of the greenway, about mile 23, a guy was limping badly and had no fuel with him.  I offered him some Gatorade since I knew I had plenty, but he said “nothing will help me at this point.”  I kept running hoping I wouldn’t get to that place before I was done.  My pace had slowed just a bit for 22 and 23, but I thought I might have enough gas to speed up the last few miles.

And wouldn’t you know it, I turned back onto the road and BAM!  Muscles just stopped working.  It’s like when you are trying to light birthday candles and the lighter just keeps flickering but no spark, no fire.  The wheels had started falling off.  I kept doing math, and it wasn’t long before I needed to average 8 minute miles for the last couple.  Somehow I was still passing people since we were all walking now.  I have joined the ranks of the “not quite ready for sub 4” at this point, but I am going to finish before 4:05 unless my legs fall off.  So I settle for walking 30 seconds, running 2-3 minutes.  Soon I start to recognize where we are and have a flashback to my first marathon when I ran/walked 11 miles before sprinting the finish after the last turn.  That memory gives me just enough burst to charge around the last corner and down the finishers chute.  I raised my arms over my head when I could see the clock read 4:04:xx and I knew I beat the 4:05 and set a massive PR of 18 minutes!  

The rest after that is a blur.  First thing I wanted to know was if Dave got his BQ and he did!  I got in line for food and ran into Matthew again – he finished a few minutes behind me and we said thanks for pushing each other for so long.  That’s what it’s all about and I was happy to help him to a great time also.  I’m so elated with this finish, and as I told Dave, I definitely won’t be taking 3 years off running after this one.  On to Blue Ridge!