Just’a Damn Fine Day at the ING Georgia Marathon

I had to write my report right away.

Like an excited kid, I’m all proud.

The ING is a hilly course, and 3:47 is not fast by most judging standards, but it’s a giant improvement for me and a positive nod in the direction of my chosen training methods.

My first marathon (2006) was a chunk over five hours.

My last years ING was 4:37. 4:50, I think, year before that.

I slapped my PR around by 12 minutes (2008 Atlanta Marathon), and took back over 40 minutes from last years ING race.

This is one of those experiences that is good to share with kids because it’s pure proof in the power of hard work.

It feels good to work hard and have it pay-off.

It just does.

Next stop 3:35, right?

Oak Mountain 50K+ Race Report

Simply tons of fun

For this trail fanatic, “Tons of fun” is the best way to describe the Oak Mountain 50K race course.

Varying terrain throughout with challenging ups-n-downs, rocky trail sections, periodic crushed-gravel-speedy-sections, thin single-track, nice views, interesting rock croppings, and trippy trees — all the things that excite devoted trail runners.

Although it may not have been in my best interest to run this race after completing 52 miles just last weekend, I did it anyway, and had a great time, with some great runners.

Getting right to it

The first section of the Oak Mountain 50K, to me, was the most challenging. There were a lot of ups-n-downs, in rapid succession, which makes it difficult to get into a running rhythm; furthermore, you’re fresh, which makes running the hills attractive and “seemingly” easy.

That’s the thing about Oak Mountain. It might not have the serious climbs of Mountain Mist or Mount Cheaha, but it does have a lot of these “seemingly” easy climbs. I feel I have a very unique appreciation of this relentless concept having run the the Superior Sawtooth 100, and getting my butt kicked by a similar “relentless hill” phenomenon.

See, here’s the deal: when there are definitive, steep climbs in a race, 99% of the field is going to power-hike these beasts at some point. While they might be difficult climbs, runners do get the opportunity to recover a little during these power hikes, and in the case of the other two Alabama races mentioned above, are usually presented with a lot of runnable ridges where a running rhythm can be set for a significant number of miles.

But through much of Oak Mountain, you are presented with hill climbs that make you say to yourself, “ahhh, that’s not so bad, I’ll just shimmy on up this one.”

Then another one.

Then another.

Then another.

Next thing you know, you’re running a lot of little hills, and they are slowly chipping away at you, making the energy expenditure add up to big hills. …a sort of trick-er-ation.

Because I’m stupid

Up, down, around a lake, and I’m feeling fantastic!

Running everything, chatting to people, scurrying up hills…

Hit the first water spot, then climb a hill, run down, dip into a moist, humid gorge, cross a crazy, rickety swinging bridge, and…

…and oh, NO!



Dammit. I’ll never ever learn.

Packing for the race the night before, I had run out of compression-type shorts to wear underneath my Race Ready shorts, and just figured, “ah, no worries, I’ll be fine.”

So stupid.

And, to make matters worse, when I ordered my Race Ready shorts, I ordered medium length, thinking they would be, well, medium length.

Evidently, Race Ready and I have much different views regarding “medium length”.

…much to the heckling enjoyment of my friends, I might add.

I’m showin’ so much leg in these things, that when I returned home from the race, my step-fella’s sleep-over friend asked me why I was wearing my boxers… {sigh}

So anyway, I started chafing 4 miles into the race, so you can imagine how the remaining 30 miles felt down there. One thing about chafe – once it starts, it never, ever leaves your mind the entire event.

You can shift your shorts around, run with a wider gait, bob and weave around with your hips, but you aren’t escaping it.


Seven miles of a slice of trail heaven

I loved the section after the first aid station. After a significant climb, and meeting “Summer”, a buff female runner with all kinds of torque who passed me like I was standing still, we were presented with some really nice trail running. Gorgeous, rocky single-track, all really easily runnable and just too damn pleasant.

I was hurting a little with the chafe, plus of course, I went out too fast, and started to fall a couple of spots in the pack; but, I knew “this too shall pass” and simply charged right on through the low point.

As we neared aid station #2, about 14 miles into the race, I missed a sharp left in the rocks during the Peavine Falls approach descent, and started running across a bridge and up a hill, before I realized no one else was around.


But, a more coherent female, who, by the way nipped at my heels all freakin’ day, pointed me in the right direction, and I was back on track.

The only really tough climb is here at Peavine Falls, where runners actually climb straight-up, parallel to the waterfall, using hand-over-hand techniques, random branches, creative footing, and any other strategy in a hill climbing repertoire.

Rolling into aid station #2, I had a grin a mile wide.

Running through the sky

After the second aid station, the course runs along a nice creek before beginning a long, gradual climb to the highest point in Oak Mountain State Park.

Running around up here was my kind of running – very technical, short, steep ups and downs, loose rocks, …you know, …all kinds of potential danger. I really love it gnarly like that.

Sometimes, I think I actually growl out loud on sections like this.

I definitely cuss.

After running a mile or so, maybe more, on the mountain top, runners are rewarded with a blistering, technical descent, where I got smoked by some shirtless kid who came outta’ nowhere.

I must’a been slow on the rocks above, because he literally came out of thin air, blew by, and was gone just as quickly.

Chatting with mountain bikers

After aid station three, about 21 miles into the race, we began a very long, gradual five or six mile ascent, back to the Peavine Falls aid station.

The first few miles travel up a wide and rocky mountain-bike trail with lots of creek crossings. As I scooted up this section, I came across many mountain bikers struggling to get up the hill. They were either geared too high, and working too hard, or they were geared too low and peddling like cartoon characters.

Whatever though, they were all really nice and supportive, and very curious about the race. Some were particularly chatty …where I was not.

This is where I met Alan. Alan has a nice family, but I digress…

Just before getting off this bike trail, and ascending a gorgeous section of the Green Trail, I looked behind me and there she was… that girl that steered me correctly at Peavine falls, nipped my heels coming into aid station three, and really pretty much stayed right behind me the whole race.

It stressed me out, so I pretty much ran hard the whole way back to Peavine, to the last station, hoping to shake her. {hey – it’s ok to be a little competitive}

It’s all gravy from here

It sure was.

I came alive here, but that’s typical for me since that’s “how I do”.

I go out too fast, then I struggle, complain, make excuses, and doubt myself all through the middle of the race, and then wake up, like an excited kid on Christmas, towards the end.

The last 6.x miles of the race is fast and furious. It’s primarily downhill the entire way. I didn’t believe it when I heard it, but it’s 100% true.

I flung my body down the hill and let gravity do all the work.

Smelling the burgers

This is a great way to end a race. Lots of downhill and flat-ish running, knowing you are getting closer and closer to Miller Time, and savoring that mental and physical state of anticipation at being close to the finish, while managing some hard running, with a fatigued and battered body.

I swear I smelled the burgers before I saw or heard the finish line.

The trails were winding all over the place, sorta making you feel like you weren’t getting anywhere, and thus adding to the finish anticipation that much more.

But coming around one last corner, I could see the road and the pavilion and the race clock (6:34) and the cones, and I got that feeling that I hope every race finisher felt – complete satisfaction.

It wasn’t my speediest time, but man, I had a blast!

Notes and noticeables

The Oak Mountain 50K is a great race on some incredible trails.

I really had a great time at this race. I had so much fun running these trails – even chafed – and I’d love to come out to Oak Mountain again, race or otherwise, and play some more on those beautiful trail sections.

Especially the Green Trail.

Below are some of the things that made this race special:

  • Seeing many of the same ultra buddies. I have so much respect for those in our sport, and when everyone is together it’s just cool.
  • Meeting new folks like Alan, Summer, Keith, Sonia, the Cascade Crest dude, …and I can’t believe I forgot her name, but that heel-nipper that stressed me out the entire race. {grins}
  • The finisher beer glass was very creative and cool – and put right to good use immediately after crossing the finish line.
  • Jamie Henderson is one of the most supportive runner spouses I’ve ever seen. She’s at every aid station and interesting junction, snapping pictures and offering positive support. Jamie, you rock! ..and Todd, you gots ya a cool wife.
  • John Dove makes me laugh a lot. Even when he’s not being funny.
  • Vikena Yutz, local ultrarunner and GUTS member, had a very impressive finish – PR – and it’s a longer course. Nice.
  • Dwayne Satterfield won, humbly, and has made himself that much cooler in my book.
  • Beverly Anderson-Abs ran the race, and won the female division. 2nd overall, I think.
  • Aid station folks were top-notch and very helpful and attentive. Thank you all.
  • Rob Apple was there finishing, I’m guessing, somewhere around his 540th-ish ultramarathon, and yep, I took another photo with him.
  • Where’s Dink?

I’m sure I forgot some things, and you’re probably sick of reading by now anyway; but, this is a race not to be missed.

If you don’t run ultras, this right here is one good reason to start.

It doesn’t get much better, or more pleasant than running Oak Mountain.


The race is rumored to be 33 miles instead of the typical 50K distance of 31 miles, but I didn’t wear a Garmin. If anyone knows the actual distance, please email me.


52 Miles? | Delano Park 12-hour Race Report

The whole way up to Decatur, Alabama, I kept wondering if I could really handle it.

If the weather channel was right, it was going to rain, at varying intensities, from Friday ’til Tuesday, straight-through, nonstop.

Can I really run in 100% rain, with soaking wet clothes, for 12 hours straight?

one, two, …even three hours, no sweat; But twelve hours of nonstop rain-running?

I love ultrarunning, but that sounds like cement shoes, blisters, chaffing, and nipple rash to me.

I was a little worried…

Ended up having one of the best ultra experiences so far.

Up’air just’a ways

I’m not going to hate on the town of Decatur, AL because the people we met were as gracious and kind as possible; but, not a community where accurate navigation is of much importance.

Trying to find a restaurant:

Them: “O, you gotta try Logan’s Steakhouse if you want a good steak”

Us: “cool, how do you get there?”

Them: “You turn right up ‘ere {pointing vaguely north}, and go 4 red lights, turn right, then turn left, go down a  ways and it’s right there on the right, …er, left.”

Us: “ummmmmmm…”

After one hour, and four unsuccessful and further confusing phone calls to the restaurant, plus yet another helpful shopkeeper’s “directions”, we finally stumbled upon Logan’s Steakhouse where I enjoyed a 12 oz. fillet, mushrooms and three lobster tails as a monster pre-race feast.

The restaurant’s parking area was starting to flood, and it was impossible to get back to the car without dancing ankle deep in parking lot puddles

“Oh my God, what’s tomorrow going to be like?”

The three amigos, off to Walmart to buy rain gear, ponchos and a tarp.

12:00 a.m. 

still raining.

4:45 a.m. 

yep, still raining.

5:00 a.m.

Weather channel shows rain from that very moment clear through to tuesday.


6:00 a.m.

Those of us running the 12-hour race stand in the dark rainy Delano Park pavilion at 6:00 a.m. ready to physically, and even more so, mentally, tackle the one mile loop.

The Delano 12-hour race is a timed running event where runners circle a one mile, mostly flat course, in an attempt to collect as many miles as possible. For fifty miles, runners would endure a measly 500 feet of elevation gain, and 500 of elevation loss, making for stronger times than your average rugged trail ultramarathon.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 – Go!

And like that, 54 runners hit the sloppy trails of Delano Park.

’bout 47 degrees, semi-hard rain, a bit of wind, and dark; and I loved it.

The Runners

Perhaps I’m just getting to know more people in our sport, but for me, the best part of the race was all the other runners. Some of whom I see at many races, and some new friends made along the way.

It’s always cool to run in the midst of the Huntsville Fleet Feet crew. They read my ramblings on the ultra email list. They know I’m half crazy with my intense desire to figure out this sport, but they always treat me with friendly respect and offer lots of support, knowledge and camaraderie. Props to the Fleet Feet gang for being such cool ambassadors of East Coast ultrarunning.

photo: Dink Taylor enjoys a post-race beverage after slaying 50 miles in 6:54!

Also at the race was Jamie Donaldson, 2008 Female winner of the Badwater 135-mile race, and a member of the 24-hour National Team. Being a sort of ultra-groupie, I was stoked to hear she was running the race, and I couldn’t wait to watch her. 

What stood out most? Her focus. 

Jamie has mad focus, yo.

photo: Jamie Donaldson finishes the 78th mile to win the Delano 12-hour

Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing Matt Kahrs

But, for us, the story of the day was our local boy Matt Kahrs. 

Matt is a brand new ultrarunner and is absolutely made for the sport. Besides being a phenomenal runner, he’s one of the most positive, bouncy, happy and stoked participants on the course. Anytime, anywhere.

Matt led the race for 85% of the day before finally giving up the lead to Jamie, but we did our best to keep him on the track so that he could blow his personal best outta the water. 

For someone who’s never gone beyond 50K, he stoked the entire field by logging 75 miles, with a smile on his face, with almost no pacers, and came 3 miles from tying the course record!

photo: congratulations Matt, you did Georgia, GUTS, and all of us very proud.

And within all these great performances there were all the things that make ultra races so great. Trail conversations with the usual friends like Spurgeon, Jason, Victor, …and new friends Clinton, Debbi and Lynn (57 miles! – nice job ladies)

Picking up the pace

Around mile 46, I started doing the math and thinking that, even though I was fading, if I picked it up a little, I could get, what I thought was, 50 miles in under 10 hours. 

I pushed the pace hard for the last 4 miles, and finished my last lap in 9:56, opting to quit at my goal of 50 miles and save myself for more training and racing.

While I thought that last mile was my 50th – the race web site says 52 miles – good for 17th place in a field of 54 starters.

This would be a first for me since I’ve never done 50 miles in under 11 hours. …and also my first sub-six 50k, since I got my 31 miles in 5:30-ish.

Keep running, Christian

I am convinced that the more I run, the better runner I become.

My growing strategy, which seems to be opposite from what many others tell me I should do, is to run as much as I can. I ran 96% of this race, walking only near aid stations while I hydrated and fueled, and never walked a complete lap.

This is the how I want to train.

I took an email list beating from the walk-some / run-some crowd for my stubborn belief that more running will make me a better runner; but I just don’t care. I am watching the people whom most inspire me and the common denominator in them all is strong, hard running.

I’m nowhere near there yet, and I don’t have 1/4 of the skill of many of those elites that I watch and learn from, but dammit, I’m gonna try and see how close I can get.

Find my ceiling, if you will.

Like the saying goes, “strive for excellence, achieve good – strive for perfection, achieve excellence”

I just want to keep improving. As long as that continues, I know I’m on the right track.


Thanks to the RDs, a great group of guys and very attentive hosts. Thanks to the aid station ladies for all their support, lap after lap, and all the sugar-coated, marshmallow Easter chicks.

Thanks to my boys for putting up with me for four hours there and four hours back. The three amigos (that’s us) had a great trip, running good miles, and talking lotsa smack.

‘nother one down, boys. Another one down, and plenty mo’ to go.

Woody Gap to Blood Mountain

For this epic, twenty mile Appalachian Trail section run, we parked at the Woody Gap parking area in Union, Georgia. There are bathrooms and plenty of ample parking for day’s run.

The goal was an out-n-back trip from the Woody Gap trail head up to Blood Mountain, and back.

Woody Gap headed north to Blood Mountain

The run begins with a modest climb to Preacher Rock, an area that the under the right conditions, produces some incredible panoramic views of the North Georgia Mountains.

(for us, that was later in the morning after the dark fog lifted)

The trail then begins a long rolling, descent that really allows runners to open up the stride and get the legs moving. We did this run in early March, 2009, and the views were awe-inspiring. The trail provides incredible views of the mountain-side in which you are running, creating a feeling of huge-ness, like Mother Nature just painted a playground specifically for us.

This run is typical Georgia Appalachian Trail {AT} running – Run up a mountain, descend the other side, run through the gap, and begin another climb; however, one thing that stood out in my mind was the “run-ability” level associated with this course.

The climbs are challenging, but with a willingness to push your training a little, most of it can be run with only modest amounts of walking.  I assume very strong mountain runners, can run this entire route.

The terrain is just about perfect. The trail is thin single-track with a decent amount of rocks on the ridges and at higher elevations, but smooth as silk down in the gaps and flats.

The approach to Blood Mountain has some steep climbs and sharp switch-backs, but remains surprisingly runnable (or fast hike-able) all the way to the top.

Worthy of mention are

  • The incredible views along the way. You really feel like your mountain running
  • The quality and maintenance of the trail
  • The trees and foliage on the approach to Blood Mountain summit are really interesting
  • The Blood Mountain shelter

The return trip was every bit as wonderful as the approach; however, be prepared for a long climb back up Big Cedar Mountain, beginning about 4 miles from the end of the return to the Woody Gap parking area.

I can’t wait to do this one again.

* Update (via Carl Laniak): Another popular way to run this route is to continue over Blood Mountain, to Neels Gap and the famous AT thru-hiker store and hostel called Walasi-Yi. 

On the return runners can either ascend back up Blood Mountain or take the rocky Freeman Trail around the mountain which meets back up to the AT in 1.8 miles.

Sounds good, huh?

Lucky Day at the Mount Cheaha 50K

Blood, mud, crud, and a 44 year old trail running stud

Dink Taylor wins the Mount Cheaha 50K with Dwayne Satterfield right behind and Gaw’ga boy Mike Cosentino bringing home third.

I can’t believe I almost skipped the Mount Cheaha 50K race this year.

Having registered and committed to a local half-marathon trail race with a friend, I just couldn’t get that whispering monkey off my back… “you’re lame – you’re gonna’ miss one of the best southeastern ultra races around, and all for a big-name-sponsor, easy and local short race.”

Then, came a little cyber-taunting by the race director – ouch…

But, the icing on the cake was a comment from one of my GUTS running idols simply stating, “I can’t believe you’re having a hard time making a decision….it’s a no brainer!”

That’s it, I’m running Cheaha.

{yes, peer pressure is that effective on me}

The setup

“but, it’s an ultra”

– Todd Henderson, Race Director, talking about the rain during Friday night’s race briefing

I thought a lot about those four words throughout this year’s 50K race.

It did nothing but rain for two solid days. No breaks. Straight-up, downpour, all day and night. I drove out of Atlanta in the rain, throughout the state of Georgia in the rain, entered Alabama in rain …and slept through an entire night of solid rain.

Woke up to rain.

In fact, not having any rain gear at all, I stopped at the local convenience store and bought a roll of duct tape and a box of garbage bags to build custom rain gear while I rode on the bus to the starting line.

I was preparing for a fight with mother nature.

But, as it turns out, the buses were delayed getting up the mountain to take the runners to the start, and this was going to cause the race to start a few hours late.

This was a good thing because just like that, once we got ready to start the race, the rain stopped.

And the runners took off.

Humility is not my strong suit

Sure enough, I started out too fast.

The first part of the race is heavenly. Pine covered, sorta-rocky-but-still-fast trail that rolls up and down before a steep and fast descent into the first aid station. This is a really nice section because it’s so runnable at time when you’re feeling fresh and strong.

I was happy to finally be running, and enjoying some conversation with John Dove about my upcoming Cascade Crest 100 miler. But, then I realized I was talking to John Dove!!! …what in the h@#$ was I doing anywhere near the pack where John Dove was running.

Then, Sally passed me.

“oh man, I’m an idiot.”


At the first aid station I showed up hot, nauseated, sweating like crazy and feeling like I just ran a fast 5K for time.

It would take me twelve miles to recover from that mistake.

Frustrated on the Pinhoti

The first few climbs on the Pinhoti trail are challenging and beautiful. The pine straw beneath your feet, gorgeous panoramic mountain views, and unique, mossy rocks, make this section really nice.

I was happy to be on the trail, but I was still feeling the effects of my early mistakes.

You know the feeling.

People are passing you. You just can’t find the fight. Your legs feel heavy and non-responsive. Climbs feel harder than they should …and {grrr}, now somebody else passes.

“On your left!”

You wanna check’em. Not because your evil, but because your grumpy and frustrated you can’t pull it together.

In a race, anything less than feeling great is aggravating because you just don’t know to what degree these feelings might continue to deteriorate.

But, “it’s an ultra”.

I dropped way back.

Like Matt Carpenter

Ok, maybe not, but after that first Pinhoti trail section, runners descend the mountain down a long, hard-packed (and sloppy) dirt jeep road to the second aid station.

It felt good to glide downhill, so I just kicked in the gear with a slight ankle lean, and let gravity do her job all the way to the bottom of the mountain.

I felt like I was running very fast, and hoped to make up some time; but I knew recovery was still going to be a challenge with the next section starting with that brutal, switch-back climb.

Alone in the wilderness

For the next seven miles, I ran alone.

After the climb, I was pretty much passed by all the front and mid-pack runners, and was probably leading the back of the pack, which meant – alone.

The trail between miles 10 and 28 are some of the most runnable, sexy trail anywhere.

I settled into a smooth cantor and enjoyed the silence of the trails and sorta enjoyed not having a chatty-cathy around …or to be being one. It gave me a chance to really enjoy nature and soak up the beauty of the mountain trails.

It gets challenging near the third station with lots of nasty, loose rocks, but you’re happy to get there because it means you’re halfway home.

Trail conditions that only an ultrarunner could love

The conditions were quintessential “ultra”.

Many of the steep hills turned into mini-rivers from all the rain. We ran up and down full-on, rain-made tributaries. Throughout the race, I couldn’t help but wonder how sensitive-feet people were dealing with these wet conditions.

Last year, we crossed maybe 4 or 5 creeks where my feet might have gotten a little wet.

This year, every significant creek was thigh deep, with many of these new, “just-popped-up” creeks weighing in at ankle-to-shin deep as well.

My feet stayed wet the whole race.

Lotsa jumping, avoiding, side-stepping, and rock-hopping, which was funny because it never worked and you still found yourself sock-deep in some kind of slop.

But, “it’s an ultra”.

By the time I rolled into the third aid station, and half-way point, I was starting to bounce back.

Keeping that dude in your sights

And then it started.

I started seeing people ahead of me and wanting to the reel them in. I wanted to take back some of that ground I lost early on in the race, and this, and the next, sections are good places to do that. Some people were starting to slow and fatigue, and I took advantage of my early slow period to push a little harder at this stage.

I think I passed anywhere from 20-40 people in that little crawl from the back of the pack to mid pack.

The trail through aid station #4, up to aid station #5, is a lot of fun, rolling ridge running that is exactly the type of terrain I think about when I think “trail running” – rugged, but runnable, cambered trail that requires concentration but allows for a little speed.

And just like that, I arrived at the famous river crossing that rushes so hard, it requires rope assistance.


After a struggle through the rapids, bashing my shin on a rock and cutting my arm on another, I stepped up on the other side and rolled into the aid station a bloody mess.

My shin, my arm and my hand were all bleeding, and the water made it look even worse.

But, “it’s an ultra”.

I declined medical assistance, and started grabbing chips and soda and cookies for the trip to the last aid station, mile 28, and the start of Blue Hell.

Staying in stealth mode

I rushed out of aid station #5, at 22 miles, still hungry for standings improvement and chasing my Cheaha race course personal best.

I met Eric and Matt from Athens, Alabama by falling flat on my face on some gnarly technical trail.

“what’s up guys? Congrats on your first ultra.”

I continued on past the Athens boys and reeled in a few others until I came upon Jeff Bryan.

Jeff saved me as I was now ready for social time. I was coming unglued a little, and he’s a comical guy that kept my mind off of the fatigue of pushing hard during the second half of the race.

At about mile 25, we hit a dirt road section that looks, and feels, very long. That section is followed by a road made of some jagged and uneven concrete, that beats your tired legs to death.

But, “it’s an ultra”.

We rolled into the last aid station, grabbed some Coke and Little Debbie Oatmeal things, and began the ascent to Blue Hell.

Yes, it’s harder than waterline

Blue Hell is harder than Mountain Mist’s waterline. Let’s just settle that right now.

It goes on forever, it’s steep, and it’s relentless.

We passed two guys, puking their guts out halfway up the climb. We later heard of other lunch-losers along that rocky climb during various times in the race.

I wonder how many people hurled up Blue Hell, after all?

I easily could have. That %$#@^ is hard.

But, “it’s an ultra”.

So Jeff and I, silently, ate that mountain one small step at a time.

Happy to get that handshake

One of the things that I like most about finishing the Cheaha 50K race is shaking the race director’s hand at the finish line.

I just think that’s the classiest thing an RD can do.


Thirty-two minutes faster than last year’s race, and quite well considering how awful my first fifteen miles went coupled with the challenging conditions. I believe I squeaked into the top 30%, but won’t know for sure until the results are posted.

It just goes to show you that you should never give up. Things can, and most likely will, get better if you just suffer through it and amend your run strategy accordingly.

Thank you’s a-plenty

The volunteers were exceptional. “Thank you all!”

The race was very well organized from the pre-race meal (with those killer meatballs), to well-stocked aid stations, to the post-race chicken soup and everything in between.

Don’t ever make the mistake of skipping the Mount Cheaha 50K.

You’ll regret it.


Todd, please share with your Dad that I’m stoked that he’s running and progressing so well. I expect to see him next year on the starting line.