First of all, if you live in Georgia, love the outdoors, and have never been to the Dauset Trails in Jackson, Georgia, you should stop right this second, open up your outlook calendar, and pick a weekend, or weekday, and tear that place to shreds – whether on foot or mountain bike.

It’s easily one of the most beautiful trail systems in all of Georgia. 1000% runnable, with thick, diverse vegetation, active streams, fast sections, and just enough climb and descent to be fun without kicking your @$$.

A Perfect Place for a 50K Trail Race

Like my boy, Sully, I’ll keep this short and sweet since it was all about long-overdue trail time with two of my close friends, and for me, not so much distance training, as just taking advantage of the opportunity for some runnable trail for a change. I’m training shorter and faster right now to increase the strength of my breathing muscles, so I really had no business running a trail 50K – but, as I’m sure many of you can attest to, we aren’t exactly normal, and our plans rarely well-thought-out.

I woke up race morning with a full-blown sinus infection that had been threatening all week; but once the race started, I never thought about it again. (thank you Afrin and Breathe-Right nose strips)

I didn’t really care about my race time. Since I knew the course was very runnable, I just wanted to run 15-20 miles relatively hard, at significant pace, and then, chill, and let the chips fall where they may.

By the third mile I was running in third position, behind Daniel from Florida, and a local guy named Kevin. I believe overall, Kevin is faster than me, but he got hella lost early-on, which put me in 2nd place by mile 8 and that’s where I stayed. Later, Daniel, the front runner, and I, found each other, lost, in the same place, and opted to figure it out and stay together for a majority of the race.

He finally dropped me on the final loop, and crushed it with a 4:55.

I rolled in at 5:16 which I am absolutely ecstatic about, but also recognize the course was very easy.

There were some issues in the race with markings, logistics, and a lot of runner confusion, but that’s to be expected in an inaugural event, and while it was frustrating at the time, I laid in bed Saturday feeling great. My mind, body, emotions all in sync. Thoroughly spent, with a smile on my face, and an appreciation for even getting to be out there, doing what 99% of the rest of the world will never do.

…but I’m going to try to change that. I want more people to get the stoke.

And That’s A Wrap

I interviewed the Race Director, and would like the rest of the space to be dedicated to him, so read below, to learn more about this race, the entire race series, and maybe you’ll find yourself ripping these trails with us next year.

Interview with Race Director, Ross Davey

Why did you put on this trail race? and why Dauset Trails as the race venue?

The driving reason for this race was to raise awareness and funds for Pennies For Posho, an non-profit that runs orphanages in Uganda. Dauset is a great trail system, designed mainly for bike riders, near the non-profits home. We thought the two where a great fit. I also used the trails as a training ground for the bear creek chase last year.

Is this race part of a series?

The race is part of the Race For This City series. RFTC holds events in a number of cities in GA. Normally a 1/2 marathon road race. Each race supports a local charity in that city. All sponsorship money goes directly to the charity. Race fees are used to cover costs of the event with a percentage going to the charity also. We always want the charity to make more than us the organizers. We basically cover cost with  these races and support our business with other contracted races. This is the first trail race we have held.

What is your connection running, and more specifically, ‘ultrarunning’?

I got into running through my wife. She signed up to run a 1/2 marathon one Christmas for charity. She didn’t realize the race was 13.1 miles and was only 9 weeks away! I helped her train and ran the race with her. I went from couch to 1/2 marathon! the next year I ran a few mud events then a full marathon. I liked pushing myself so the next step was a 50k. It turned out I really don’t like road running and on trails I have more fun and enjoy the event much more. Thats a big pull for me to be active, push myself, and enjoy it.

I understand this years’ sponsors were near and dear to you. What is the connection?

Our sponsors are great! Newsole running in McDonough is one of our biggest supporters.

I think you mean the supported charity instead? “Pennies” works with a lot of the kids that escaped the child soldier thing. Last year the Kony 2012 video really highlighted what was going on over in parts of Africa. Well Pennies has been working there for years. They feed and help over 5000 kids and this keep growing. They keep building new schools and training programs.

Now that the race is over, overall, how do you feel it went?

Overall for a first year race we had around 70 runners over the 3 races, and no one got hurt. A few things happened on race morning that caused me to miss briefing volunteers on course one last time before they went out. This caused confusion for some runners on the longer races. Every race we learn something as a company we are always wanting to make each race better than the last. For this race we learned a lot. I always feel a heavy burden when things go wrong on course everything is ultimately my fault as the race director and runners safety is my number one concern. All in all we had great weather, great runners who handled the confusion very well, and great volunteers. Next year will be better it might not be bigger, but better. I like smaller races and would like to keep this one in the 100-150 mark. We are thinking of having the longer races in the morning and maybe a 5k if there is enough demand for it in the afternoon  , around 4:30, after the ultra runners are off course.

Any final words?

Just a big thank you to all the runners, volunteers, Dauset trails staff. All our volunteers came out on their day off at 5:30am to sit in the woods all day, you got to love them for that. The Dauset trails staff also came in on a day off and stayed late to help us pull down all our gear. As always we are wanting race feed back from runners. Please if you have an idea or comment email me at rossdavey@ddjeventproductions.com

Thanks Christian for coming out and running!

Hey, man, the pleasure was all mine. Thanks for the opportunity. See ya next year!

Sometimes, it was just meant to be.

If you watch Weeds, I feel like the Nancy Botman of athletic life. If you don’t watch Weeds, my point is that for all the spontaneous, goofball crap I do, I somehow come out of it all with cool new experiences, renewed excitement, alternative perspectives, and an overwhelming satisfaction for having done the right thing.

Going to Florida with Joe Fejes at 2:00 in the afternoon, on a Friday, was the right thing.

Doing so eliminated an on-coming work burn-out, introduced me to a whole ‘nother set of ultraunners, re-introduced me to previous acquaintances, and even allowed me to put a face to a name of a well-respected, supportive ultrarunning veteran with whom I’ve been communicating online for over six years (Wad up, G?).   And all this while running some of the most surprisingly difficult and unusually diverse state park trails in Florida:

The Draggin’ Tail Ultra Trail Challenge is a test of one’s motivation, preparation, physical stamina and mental fortitude! Torreya is like the Beauty and the Beast. It has all of the beauty “Mother Nature” can provide but the “Beast” simply chews up ultra runners of all ages and skills and spits them out.  One is always dealing with the three “H’s”. Heat, humidity and hills that give all the ultra runners the fourth “H”! Hurting muscles!

– Draggin Tail 25k/50K web site

To Be Good, Sometimes You Gotta Be Bad

If you are good at what you do, you will always be busy. But to continue to be good at what you do, you have to want to do it, and I do my best work, and am most career-driven, when I am filled with experiences of adventure – be it running cool places, hurricane-surf travel, SUP races, martial arts sparring, obstacle training, or even, yea…even, golf with my wife.

Call it yin and yang.

Without this constant stimulation, I can’t focus, and find myself yearning to bust down the walls, break my rusty cage, and run.

Rolling with a Supa’star

I just know him as Joe.

We travel to races, talk about boy-stuff and eat steaks and asparagus.

I pick on his bald head, deaf-ness and aloof demeanor. He calls me a fat ass and slow.

But it’s kinda cool rollin’ with a guy who has a good chance at winning the event, and maybe even taking a course record. We love Joe. Most of us will brag when we have a mediocre athletic performance of any kind, but Joe can break a world record, mention it once, and move on to the next challenge.

It’s a refreshing trait. We love that bald bastard.

Dude, Please, Get on with the Race Report

So, yup, Friday afternoon, we drove to “who in the hell knows where”, Florida, and stayed at a uber-fancy hotel called the Airport Hotel …in a place where there is, uh, no airport.

But, we weren’t really deterred.

Not by the hole in the bathroom door, the musty window heater unit, nor even the unusual fact that the owners were sleeping in a trailer behind us.

Nope, what really tripped us out was the fact that we would switch time zones anytime we moved around the property. Lying in the bed, it was central standard time, but sitting in the bathroom, in the same tiny room, eastern. We never really had any idea exactly what time it actually was, and this could pose a problem for getting to the starting line on time.

It didn’t, we got lucky, and by 8:00 (ish) a.m. we started running.

Joe was running the 50K (two loops), and I was running the 25K (one loop). Joe’s goal was to win, but he’ll never tell ya that. My goal was to simply have a great, impromptu run, through some interesting Florida forest.

Beautiful Torreya State Park

I took off running in a pack that included Florida ultrarunning legend, Gary Griffin, Bobby York and a few other dudes I didn’t know.

After a “space-out-the-runner-pack” jeep road, we dipped into some extremely beautiful, dark forest that was indicative of what you’d expect to see in Florida. I don’t know the names of all the flora, but imagine small, thick palm and palmetto-looking trees and bushes, all mixed in with tall skinny hardwood trees.

The trail was thick with roots, and the terrain was never, and I mean NEVER flat.

You were either running up, or down, and never very long either way, but always getting switched up in one way or another. We climbed 1000 feet in 15 miles. In florida!

Yikes, I thought Florida was flat? Someone forgot to tell Torreya.

That stud pack dropped me like a nerdy kid, and I ran the entire rest of the 15.5 miles all alone – and loved it.

Beautiful, foggy, early-morning views of the Apalachicola River.

Tight, winding, single-track – all technical and gnarly.

Quick, little steep ups, and fast, quad-punishing drops.

Wide open tree’d fields you’d expect to see along the coast, then thick, deep, dark forest, more indicative of the Appalachian Trail.

Just a beautiful, beautiful place to run.

I think I fell in love with Torreya. Maybe its just lust.

Florida is Just a Cool Place to Be

And just like that, it was over.

I actually saw one of the RDs, toward the end, coming up the trail to take photos. I mentioned to her how beautiful the course was and I really didn’t want it to end.

In retrospect, I guess I could have continued for a second loop, thus entering the 50K race, but, uh, well, no. That didn’t happen.

The finish area, filled with smiling people, food, refreshments, and a finisher’s clock, sucked me in like a sea turtle chasing the surf.

I spent the rest of the event, waiting for Joe to finish the second loop, and chatting it up with all kinds of cool people: Gorden, Travis, and Elizabeth, along with RDs Joe and Marty, and many other new friends and contacts who’s names escape me as of this writing, but I sure hope reach out to me and reconnect.

Way cool people.

Way cool vibes.

Way cool event.

…but please don’t come next year, cuz it fills fast, and I want another shot

Rock on runners.

I can be a bizarre man, and this is probably a bizarre way to start off a race report, but when I finished this year’s Mountain Mist 50K, I finally felt like me again.

Since I couldn’t even say three words without coughing into convulsions, I pretty much avoided all the other jubilant finishers around me, and sat down on the cobblestone steps outside the lodge trying to sort out how I felt about the race, my individual performance, and what I learned from the experience.

Dramatic? probably, but if you know me, is it really all that surprising?

As a sat on those steps, 13-year old Carly Rose’s rendition of Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good” popped in my head, and I found myself humming it along with my crazy thoughts.

It’s such a powerful, emotional song, and it played perfectly with my day.

Promise me you’ll listen to the track. It’s a measly 2:00 long, but will most likely make you feel really good. If not, well I’m sorry I wasted your time, and you most likely won’t like this report anyway. (or, you might just watch the song twice.)

Odd race report tidbit, I know, but there it is…

What Happens in the Blue Beast, Stays in the Blue Beast

The ride to and from Huntsville, Alabama with a ridiculous peanut gallery of Joe “Fast Bastard” Fejes and Wayne “Weezy” Downey, could have been written as a movie all by itself.

These road trip movies have NOTHING on the shenanigans that go down, and the conversations that go sideways, when the three of us load into that big ol’ Excursion for race travel.

We’re probably all going to Hell.

Joe was coming off his incredible 300 mile, record-breaking run at ATY, and was not participating this year, but instead joining Weezy and I for a little support, camaraderie, and to just be part of “The Mist” – one of those races that, once you’ve had a taste, becomes very difficult to miss – whether running or just hanging out.

Three amigos, keepin’ it real …maybe a little too real.

Promises of Mud, Muddy Mud, and More Mud

This was my sixth Mountain Mist 50K, and every year runners are contending with some kind of mud.

If you’re lucky, it’s freezing on race day and you’ll get frozen mud. If you’re unlikely, days of rain coupled with a warmer-than-usual race day, offers up lots and lots of slippery mud.

We got lots and lots of slippery mud.

Worse, because I was completely under-trained for this year’s event, I wore Hoka road running shoes in hopes of saving my legs. I may have saved my legs a bit, but I might as well have been running in grease.

Lesson #1 – Hokas in lots of of slippery mud is a race decision no-no.

First Half, Miles 1-16: Pleasant Running …kinda.

Weezy and I made a pact to run together for the entire race.

Both equally under-trained, overweight and recognizing that this distance was way outside of how we are currently training, we still wanted to add to our Mountain Mist plaque stack AND get that much closer to that monumental, 10-year jacket.

We’d suffer together.

The first part of the trail is a descent and can be a little sketchy, and as usual, I was the first to take a nice fall. In just a little over a mile into the race, I busted pretty good, slipping in the mud, and falling backwards onto some rocks, right in front of Weezy. As you can imagine, I got to hear about it for a good quarter mile.

After crossing the road, the course takes runners up a gradual 4-ish mile climb to the top of the mountain. We ran very slowly, ’bout 10-11:00 pace I think, and power-hiked anything steep, regardless of how short the length.

Now, while this was pleasant running, and it was, some of the emotions I was feeling were not so pleasant. I’m not proud of these thoughts, but I write stuff the way it goes down, so I’m sorry if it colors me as a person – but – I really struggled with where I was running in the pack.

Look, I’ve never been an “elite” racer, but I worked hard and progressed a lot from 2006-2012, focusing on improving my speed over the years, to the point where the previous two years, I ran 5:45 and 5:15 at Mountain Mist, after running 7:40 my very first year.

I had gone from the back-of-the-pack, to as close as 31st overall (out of 247 runners). Both 5-hour years put me in a place in the results that I believed to be acceptable (for me), and I only hoped I could get better.

Then, I got sick.

Now I’m starting from scratch all over again.

I wish I could run along the trails in races with a big fat smile and say I’m happy to just be out there and I don’t care about finish times, but that’s just not me. Perhaps its a huge flaw in my personality, but I’m a competitive person – both with others AND myself. Running in the back of the pack did not feel good. The fact that I was letting it bother me, …well, bothered me.

Lesson #2 – It’s OK to participate for participating sake. Get over yourself. Enjoy the gifts you’ve been given. Be who you are in the moment, and commit to getting better. Enjoy the journey.

Second Half: Miles 16-31: Got Oxygen?

Between aid stations 2 and 3, somewhere around 13 miles or so, my diaphragmatic paralysis started to become a real issue.

For one, I hadn’t really run over 13 miles in training more than two or three times since I was released from the hospital. Even my longest obstacle races were only 13-14 miles, and those miles were broken up with obstacles. The muscles working in lieu of my diaphragm simply weren’t trained for the distances I was heading into from miles 16-31.

I started wheezing pretty badly.

I started coughing aggressively.

Weezy started questioning me, “Dude, you gonna be alright?”

Every time he asked, I said yes, but in reality, I had no idea what to expect.

A Pole, A Blond Kid and A Reason to Keep Going

Less than a mile from the half-way point aid station, somewhere around mile 16, it got really bad. Weezy had me lean against a trail marker to try to rest, catch a breath and collect myself.

Without necessary oxygen intake, my legs were dying quickly, and I was getting scared, feeling like there was nothing I could do but drop out of the race. I rationalized the situation as I simply wasn’t ready to come back to running trail races.

Just then, and I mean we couldn’t have been at that pole more than 10 seconds, some blond kid shows up out of nowhere, running with a pack of chatting, female GUTS runners, and pops up in my face, shaking my hand, and expressing how he read my blog, this blog, four years ago and how it inspired him to start running ultramarathons. He was all young, and peppy, and excited and life just ooozed out of this kid. At the time, I was too out of it to acknowledge his comments beyond a “thank you” and “I appreciate that”, but dammit, this kid, who I seemingly inspired four years ago, was now inspiring ME.

I sure hope that the girls that were with him will read this blog entry, remember the moment, and share in the comments below who he was. I’d like to personally thank HIM for HIS inspiration during a time when I needed it most.

Weezy got me moving again, but by the time I staggered that last mile into the halfway point aid station, I was not looking, nor feeling, too good. I simply could not get a breath, was coughing like a smoker, and the oxygen depletion was taking its toll.

Joe Fejes was at the aid station. He would later be expressing to others that I was probably not going to make it.

But dammit, my wife made a special poster board for me wishing me luck. Weezy was running every step along the trail with me, friends – past, present and future were encouraging me, and 10 minutes ago, some kid was expressing how much I had inspired him to run.

HOW COULD I POSSIBLY GIVE UP?

I’d run, shuffle, stagger, walk, …but I wasn’t going to give up. I know how that feels in the end and I didn’t want to eat that for dinner.

I grabbed a handful of pretzels, downed two cups of coke, and staggered across the street to continue on.

So very glad I did.

Lesson #3 – There are a million excuses to quit. All sound completely reasonable, even logical; but don’t do it. Never quit. Don’t stop until someone makes you stop. This is a lesson I’ve had to learn multiple times and one I am still mastering.

A Good Friend is Hard to Find

I really sucked for about 3 miles.

Weezy would push on, hear me cough, look back, realize I was flailing, and he’d slow down or walk.  People passed in droves, and the pity party I was throwing for myself was getting to be too much for me, definitely for Weezy, and shoots, probably even for you right now as the reader.

I felt pressure to keep up, and with that pressure came more frustration and feelings of inadequacy. The whole situation compounded itself until I finally shared with Weezy how I either needed him to go on, chasing down the passing runners – or – chill the *&^%! out if he still wanted to stay together.

Like the good friend he is, and I’m not just patronizing him, he is a good friend, he chilled out, and we had a great, easy run across the rocks and approach to waterline.

Once we climbed the mean ol’ nasty waterline, I had a significant bounce-back, allowing us to pass almost 20 runners from the 26 mile aid station, through McKay’s Hollow, and all the way to Rest Shelter where we’d climb up the mountain for another mile before heading to the finish.

Sincere Support

After I crossed the finish line, I was amazed at how much support the other runners offered me. Runners I’ve known for years, and runners who only knew me from this blog. Local runners and transient runners, all offering mad levels of atta-boys, congratulations and strong support.

If you’ve been in this situation before, you know how much that support means. As egomaniacs, and almost all of us runners are, we think our situations are so much bigger, and so much worse, than they really are. You feel like everyone is looking at you, like a leper, wondering what happened, or feeling all kinds of pity, when in reality nobody is paying all that much attention to you anyway.

Just because you consume you, doesn’t mean you consume others.

I guess that’s lesson #4 – stop being so d@mn self-centered and self-absorbed and worrying what everyone else might be thinking. Live life and enjoy the ride.

Easier said than done, and at 42 years old, I’m not much closer to self-actualization than I was at 22, but I’ll keep trying.

Thank you for reading.

Comments, good or bad, are always appreciated. Name-calling and making fun of me is all fair game.

Guest Post By Joe Fejes

To say I feel lucky is an understatement.

I’m honored. stunned, amazed, proud, and stoked that Joe would let me post his story here. I can’t believe what this dude has accomplished. Humble, minimal, focused, driven …but more importantly, supportive, friendly, and cares enough to ride some of us, pullin no punches, when we’re a’whinin’. A great friend to many runners. We love ya, FA-JEEEET-AS.

Joe Fejes. 72hours. 329 Miles. Records, broken.

—

Across the Years 2011/2012

Last year from December 29, 2011 until January 1, 2012, I ran 280 miles in the ATY three-day race held in Glendale, Arizona, at Camelback Ranch, the training compound for the LA Dodgers and the Chicago White Sox. Although I won the race, I fell far short of my lofty goal of running 300 miles. Only two other runners had achieved this goal: John Geesler and Yiannis Korous. Determined to run 300 at the 2012/2013 Across the Years race, I mapped out my strategy immediately following the 2011/2012 race. I decided to lose significant weight and increase the intensity of my training.

Significant Weight Loss

I weighed 172 pounds when I ran ATY 2011/2012. Heading into ATY 2012/2013, I weighed a svelte 147 pounds. I dropped the 25 pounds over a 30-day period between April and May by incorporating a strict starvation diet consisting primarily of raw fruit and salad. This starvation diet is certainly not doctor-recommended, nor is it healthy.  (DON’T ATTEMPT THIS STUNT AT HOME!) It was, however, highly effective.

High Intensity Training

I revamped my training regimen by incorporating regular weekly sessions of high intensity track workouts and tempo runs to supplement my regular weekly mileage. I also added two workouts per day which helped increase my weekly mileage from 60 to approximately 90 miles per week. Besides counting on the weight loss and more intense training, I thought I would benefit in my second attempt to run 300 miles because I was more experienced.  ATY 2011/2012 was my virgin effort at a multi day, and I had made a number of rookie mistakes. Since then I had gained a significant amount of experience by completing at least seven 24 hour races:

• December 15: Desert Solstice Invitational 156.62 miles
• December 1: Shazam 24 hour track 139 miles
• Sept 29: Hinson Lake (paced a friend) 103 miles
• Sept. 9: World Championship 147 miles
• June 2: Fans 24 135 miles
• May 5:  North Coast 24 142 miles
• March 31: Operation Endurance 24 117 miles

I vowed that I would not repeat the mistakes for ATY 2012/2013.  Surely if I took care of some of the little things I would improve my mileage.

Race Concerns

No matter how good of shape I was in, I still had to worry about the weather, illness and injury. Any of these variables could wreck my dream.

Weather

One critical factor outside of my control was the weather. Just as Superman is weakened by Kryptonite, Joe Fejes is weakened by hot weather. Last year I struggled mightily on Day Two and Three as the temperatures were unseasonably warm, rising into the low 80s. I needed cool temperatures to have a chance in achieving my goal of 300 miles.

Prerace Illness

ATY is run during the holidays when family and friends get together and pass around their colds and flu. I really hoped to avoid being sick before or during the race. Running for three consecutive days is hard enough without being sick. Fortunately, as race day drew near, I avoided catching a cold or flu.

Injury

I wasn’t so lucky in avoiding the injury bug. A few days before the race, I tweaked my lower back. I’m not even sure how I did it–whether it was sleeping in a different bed at the in-laws’ house or lifting a Christmas present the wrong way. In any event, spasms and tightness in my back made for uncomfortable running. I treated my back with icy hot menthol patches, ibuprofen, hot soaks with Epsom salts and a fair amount of Makers Mark shots. Two days prior to the race I was still experiencing spasms. I was very worried that my back injury would worsen with a 4-hour flight to Phoenix. Would I even be able to run the race? I was scared, but tried to remain calm.

Competition

Generally I size up my competition before every race by checking out their stats in ULTRASIGNUP and/or ATHLINKS. My primary focus at ATY was to achieve my goal of running 300 plus miles, but I would be lying through my teeth if I said I wasn’t also looking for the win. Joe don’t do fun runs. Any race I run, I am trying to be at my competitive best by running hard. I was defending my title this year and was a little worried because I wouldn’t be an underdog. Generally I run better as an underdog and rarely run good as a favorite. A couple of youngsters running the 72 hours, Anthony Culpepper (age 32) and Michael Carson (age 25), were both much faster and stronger trail runners than I. Anthony had finished 4th in the Wasatch 100 with a sub 22 hour and also the 4th place in the Mount Mitchell challenge. He had also previously run 82 miles in a 12 hour run at Freedom Park. Michael had finished 3rd in the Chimera 100 with an 18 hour finish as well as an 18 hour finish in the Javelina Jundred, right behind the great Karl Meltzer. I knew both of these cats were capable of hitting 300 if they wanted to. My buddy Michael Miller was also signed up, but I knew he still wasn’t fully recovered from his recent 48 hour at Ultracentric.

One runner I didn’t size up was Eoin Keith, from Ireland. I had no idea who he was or what he had accomplished. Had I reviewed his blog, here is what I would have learned:

• 5th place in the 2009 24 hour World Championship run in Begramo with 237km setting the Irish Record
• 11th in the World Ultra Trail Championship at Sierre Chevalier
• 27th in the 2011 World Championship 70k ultra trail run Connemara
• Completed Raid the North Extreme 6 day adventure race in British Columbia
• 34th out of 2300 in the 2011 Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc 169k
• 21st in the 2011 Adventure Racing World Championship 9 day Tasmania
• Captained the Irish team in the 2010 24 hour World Championship
• Participated in the 8 day Trans Alps Mountain Bike race (“Tour de France of Mountain Biking”)
• Irish Record Holder in 24 hour track running Tooting Bec 235.7km
• Irish Record Holder in 100 miles track

In other words, Eoin is what you call an extreme badass! A 72 hour run to him was kid’s play. Had I known what I was up against from the start, I may have just picked up my marbles and gone home.

IPOD

My music is everything to me while I run. I wear hearing aids and can’t hear worth a damn without them so I can’t rely on conversation with other runners while I am running. Fortunately before the trip I had added plenty of tunes, mainly Southern Rock oldies: Marshall Tucker Band, Outlaws, Pure Prairie League, Molly Hatchet, Bob Dylan, Blackfoot, Ram Jam, Allman Brothers, etc. I was ready to honky-tonk to the finish.

Friday December 28th: Time to Fly (Hoka pun intended)

I had an early morning flight on AirTran from Atlanta to Phoenix. I gathered my luggage and gear and hopped on the airport shuttle to take me to Hartsfield Jackson.  The shuttle driver grabbed my large USA Track-and-Field suitcase that I was given for my participation in the 24 Hour World Championship in September and loaded it on the van.

Sitting across from me was a twenty-something girl and her parents. They seemed to be looking at my USA Track-and-Field backpack.  I imagined they were wondering whether I was a coach or an athlete.  When the shuttle bus landed, the girl grabbed the USA Track-and-Field Suitcase and started to leave the shuttle.

“Hey, Miss,” I shouted, “you have my suitcase.”

The young lady looked at me in scorn. “No I don’t, Mister. This suitcase is mine. Yours is up on the rack.”

It hit me then like a load of bricks: I ain’t the only one with a USA Track-and-Field suitcase.  How dared I assume I was!  What an arrogant bastard.  Hell, I’d only made the team as an alternate because Jon Olsen was unable to go.  I realized that I’d better rid myself of any smug or complacent attitude before I got to Phoenix.  Michael Henze, the Big Horse of my 24-hour idols, once wrote in his blog, “You better be ‘all in’ mentally when you show up for a 24 or you won’t finish.”

I believe the shuttle bus incident was a warning from a higher power that I’d best be humble and hungry when the race began.

But it did cross my mind for a fleeting moment that maybe it was an omen.

In Phoenix, I checked into my room and decided to run a few miles to see if my back was okay. I ran an easy 6 or 7 miles with no spasms. The back was a bit tight but I knew I should be good to go in the morning with one more night of Epson salts soaking, menthol patch and good sleep.

After my run I went to Walmart and bought a cooler and a sleeping bag. I loaded up with a case of Coke, vanilla Boost and a bunch of bananas.  I also bought six cans of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup in case I didn’t like the soup that ATY was serving.

After Walmart I went to Camelback Ranch for packet pickup.  The Coury brothers were all there finalizing the preparations for the race.  The amount of work they do to hold the race is mammoth.  There had to be a hundred tents set up for runners who had reserved one.  I myself had rented a large tent with a cot.  I wasn’t planning on using it much but I wanted to be able to get to my clothing or gear easily if needed.  Also I remember freezing my butt off during night-time naps last year, when I was too cheap to rent one.

At check-in I mingled with other runners.  A nervous electricity was in the air.  Bill Schultz and Josh Irvan had made the trip from Pennsylvania.  Anastasia ‘Supergirl’ Rolek had driven from Chicago.  Fred ‘Wildman’ Willet hailed from the Pacific Northwest.  Phillip and Rhonda Sustar, Willy ‘Natureboy’ Syndram, Kena Yutz, Perry Sebastian, Molly Freeman, Ed and Sandra Compton were all friends of mine from Georgia. My mentor Ray Krowelwicz had driven from South Carolina.  Michael Miller was a local Arizona runner I had befriended in last year’s event and in my recent 24 hour run at Desert Solstice.  In fact many of the volunteers at ATY had also been volunteers at Desert Solstice.  Our camaraderie really helped make the atmosphere low key—almost like an ultra runner family get together.

For my pre-race meal I went to the Saddle Ranch Chop House at the Westgate City Center and had a large ribeye, spinach and a loaded baked potato.  I was in bed by 10:00 pm, anxious to get the race started in the morning. Race Day (Saturday December 29th) First thing I did when I awoke was to excitedly check the weather forecast.  The weather forecast for ATY 2012/2013 predicted temperatures ranging from 43 to 65 degrees Fahrenheit with little or no chance of rain—ideal running weather for me.

Race Strategy, Day One: My wife asked me how she would know if I was running okay. I told her that if my back held up, I should do around 135 miles on Day One. If my back was giving me problems, I would go the conservative route and scale back to 115 miles.

I wore my beat up modified Hokas as I had for the past few months of racing. I knew the shoes wouldn’t cause me any issues other than blisters in the cut-out area on the side, which I could live with. The toeless feature, however, was prone to picking up little rocks from time to time, but that was more of a nuisance than anything else.

The weather quickly warmed to a point where I ran shirtless for most of the day into the early evening.  Many runners were bundled up throughout the day.  My pace strategy Day One was targeting 10:25 lap splits, which was the equivalent of a 9:55 mile.  Hitting these splits would give me a 145 miles—ideal to hit my goal of 300 miles as well as a nice 48 hour time to break into the top 10 of US 48 hour times.

The first 12 hours of a 24 hour race is always the toughest for me. The “wall” of the marathon—which I believe is the body switching fuel sources from glycogen to fat—usually gives me my worst bonk. My strategy in avoiding a bad bonk was to rely primarily on liquid calories in the form of Boost and Coke, along with some bananas. Other than the bananas, I would avoid solid foods.

If I remember correctly, I came through the marathon in about 3:45 and was running comfortably.  I hit 70 miles in 11 hours, which my mentor Ray K. said would equate to 140 miles under normal circumstances.  I had no issues and concluded Day One with 141 miles.  I paid no attention to my competition.  I had no idea who was in second or how far behind they were.  I knew that if I stuck to my plan, I would have a chance at the 300 miles as well as winning the race.

Day Two (Sunday, December 30th)

My goal for Day Two was simply to avoid sleeping as much as I did the year before. My 28 hour run at the Big Dog Backyard Ultra a few months ago gave me confidence that I could do it. I scrolled back my pace from 10:25 to 12 and 15 minute miles.  This would still give me plenty of miles to accomplish my goal. Physically and mentally I felt fine. The only disappointment was that I had very few moments when I wanted to giddy up and go. My legs felt heavy, which I attributed to the 156 miles I ran two weeks prior in the 24 hour race at Desert Solstice.  From Ian Sharman’s blog, I learned later that the other Desert Solstice runners (Ian Sharman, Michael Arnstein, and Dave James) felt the same way. I did not worry about my lack of leg speed, since I knew it was unnecessary at this point to run fast. All I needed to do was run slow and steady.

At about hour 10 on Day Two I felt that my lap times were diminishing quickly.  I asked Ray and Perry Sebastian if a nap was in order, and they gave me the green light for a ninety minute nap. The nap helped alleviate the stiffness in my knees and recharged my batteries a little.  I also had developed a knot or lump on my left Achilles that was sore, but Perry had a chiropractor friend work on the area, which provided some relief.  I also stopped by the medical tent and had my blisters tended to.  The medical folks were not allowed to drain blisters so I took that job on myself with a lancet.  I was now hopefully good to go for a while.

Resuming running after a break is a major ordeal.  You are freezing cold when you start back and need to get going again before your body temperature rises.  I made a mistake by putting tights on.  I quickly became overheated after one lap.

My eating habits changed dramatically on Day Two and Three.  I switched from my liquid diet of Day One since my stomach was not an issue as it had been the previous year. I ate everything and anything that the food station offered: bean quesadillas, macaroni with little sauce, chicken noodle soup, cold pizza, gummy bears, cookies, sushi (to die for, although the wasabi sauce I dipped it in was a mistake!)  I continued to drink large amounts of coke. I also started drinking a Succeed electrolyte drink that was weaker in flavor than Gatorade or Powerade but really hit the spot.  Occasionally I would take a Salt Stick, Scap or an Endurlyte just to make sure I was getting sufficient electrolytes.

I ended up Day Two with approximately 235 miles.  I knew I had missed the legend Roy Pirrung’s age group record of 237 miles, but I told myself that was a goal for a different day.

Day Three (Monday, December 31st)

An attorney by trade, I am not particularly gifted in math.  I did manage, however, to calculate that 15-minute miles would give me 96 miles for the next 24 hours, which would accomplish my goal of hitting 300 and giving Yiannis Korous a run for the ATY event record of 323 miles.  Note: YK has run over 385 miles as a SPLIT for 72 hours on his way to a crazy 6 day total.  When he ran ATY, he was simply going for a decent 48 hours and ended up napping and eating fine baklava on Day Three.  Although I know I’m nowhere near his class, I did secretly want a little payback for him beating me by half a mile at the 24 hour World Championship at age 56!!

Ian Sharman, Michael Arnstein and Dave James were running the 24 hour on Day Three.  This woke me up. Those guys are what I call truly “elite” runners.  All three have run sub 13 hour 100 milers—about 2 hours faster than I have. As they could easily run 150+ miles on a good day, Nick Coury’s #6 spot on the US 24 hour team was in jeopardy.  I pointed out one advantage to Nick: the ATY course wasn’t as conducive to big 24 hour miles as one might think.  Plus, the elite three were worn out from Desert Solstice.  ATY’s course has a few small hills and a dirt surface that makes it deceptively challenging to run.

On Day Three at about 250 miles, I felt as if my battery was in need of recharging. By now I had to consider who was running behind me and the difference in our mileage. Considering I was about 15 miles in front of the nearest runner, I decided there was minimal risk in another ninety minute nap as a final rest. At this point, I knew very little about Eion Keith, who was running strong.

When I awoke and got back on track, Eoin was only about 9 miles behind me!  Shit, damn, shit!! I thought to myself.  Eoin was in it to win it.  He hadn’t flown from Ireland to finish second.  Unaware of his running resume, I was simply dumbfounded.

Clearly I hadn’t learned my humility lesson from the luggage mix-up on the airport shuttle.  Perhaps it had been an omen, after all…

I resumed running and immediately noticed that Eoin’s lap times were several minutes faster than mine.  I worried I was going to hit 300 miles but lose the event to Eoin!  I was scared.  I told Perry and Ray that Eoin was coming after me and I’d better do something quick.

The next time Eoin came running by me, I jumped on track and stayed at his heels and prepared for the ride. Note: I have caught a significant amount of flack from the Ultralist on my running style of following other runners too closely. I have been told that I needed to bring an engagement ring if I run any closer.  Taking this criticism to heart, I made sure I left a couple of strides between myself and Eoin.

Around and around we went, with Eoin pushing the pace each lap. It was one of my worst nightmares-a race to the finish based purely on leg speed.  I tried to maintain a psychological edge by patting Ray on the ass when we past him. (I was hoping Eoin would get the impression that this pace was nothing but a casual stroll for me, although in reality I was about to pop a lung.)  Ian Sharman joined in for one lap since he likes to run fast.  Ed Ettinghausen, resplendent as ever in his jester outfit, also joined in and, after the fourth lap, picked up the pace even more.  Giving it everything I had, I went ahead of Eoin and hung to Ed.  Eoin finally dropped off the pace.  One more lap and I was done for.  I knew, though, that as long as I didn’t take any more significant naps, I should be able to hold Eoin off.  He is one hell of a competitor and simply a stronger runner than I.

The fast running we did for a couple of hours helped bring my mileage total closer to 300.  At this rate I was likely to hit that benchmark by Midnight New Year’s Eve.  That would leave me with 9 hours to get 24 miles to pass YK’s ATY mark.  I was feeling good…but this time, I paid close heed to the fact that anything can happen with that much time left.

I proceeded to run my 15-minute miles.  Eoin and I shared a laugh about our “mini race.” When I passed the 300 mark I kept running, determined to give YK’s 323 a go.  I heard that Eoin was planning to stop at 300.  I rested a little easier knowing that he wouldn’t be pressuring me the last few hours.

When I hit 324 miles and broke YK’s mark, I wanted to stop.  Everything in me screamed that my goal had been accomplished.  Ray K. brutally burst my bubble. “This is a 72 hour race.  You ain’t done yet.  Keep running.”
Oh yeah…the 72-hour thing.  Not to mention winning.

I compromised for the last two hours by shuffling along with Ray and celebrating with the other runners.

Finishing with 329 miles, I was happy.

The first-place finish didn’t hurt, either.

UPDATE: It looks like Joe Fejes impressed Runner’s World as well.

It’s my contention, especially after having varied my activities greatly over the last few months, that while there is great variety in ultrarunners and ultrarunning participant intent, none of it really has much to do with health and fitness.

“What? He’s an idiot”, you might be saying. That’s ok, you’re kinda right, I’m not very smart, but I digress…

50-Mile Ultramarathon

Let’s look at a 50-mile ultra. While there is an elite field, typically of very small, efficient runners, running continuously for the duration of the event, and doing so without tremendous trauma to the body, the majority of runners on the course are either shot-out by 30 miles in, walking a ton, maybe limping, or at the very least, working around some kind of overuse injury that’s flaring up.

They may or may not choose to continue to endure this trauma until the finish.

Depends on how bad they want it.

Fitness or Fight?

In my opinion of one, this is not participating in activity for health and fitness benefit. Nor is training like this a key to improved health and fitness.

Does it make one stronger?

Perhaps.

Depends on your definition of “stronger”. If stronger means both physical and mental ability to endure pain, then yea, I guess so – but if stronger means better and more efficient adaptation to perform well, then I would say, no. Instead, you put yourself in a position of needing more recovery, allowing for less quality workouts, and thus a sort of stagnant athletic performance improvement.

Room with a View

Standing on the outside a little now, I see the close relationship between ultrarunning and addiction. NOT EVERYONE, but I do see the undertones that I perhaps did not recognize before. From the social aspects, to feeling a need to abuse oneself within a venue of others, who are also absuing themselves and thus making it seem ok – or even better, “as an extreme sport”

But like the Jurek article showcased a few years ago in Runners World, its hard to view it as sport from the outside perspective, late in a race, when physical bodies, in poor, untrained physical shape, are walking and leaning, barely covering ground, and simply enduring for hours on end.

It’s a resilience and determination worth applauding, but is it athletic sport? Is it performance?

This is the grey area where a lot of ultrarunners stand up and start screaming - “who are you to tell me how to enjoy my sport?!” – and - “Ultraunning is very personal and can be defined however I want”

And flames start between the “yea, leave us alone” crowd, and the “well, you know, 15 hours on a 50 mile course is not racing” crowd.

Fragmentation of “Sport”

I believe this is what makes ultrarunning a very fragmented, varied sport. Less respected by athletes of the popular definition, and way respected by those who only have a very small understanding of what true ultra event participation isreally like, and what really goes on.

In the end, I guess its true. It’s a personal thing. Some, like me and my experiences, have addictive personalities and dove head first into ultrarunning, seem to progress a little, but suffer a lot, and flame out over and over (just like Rob Y. warned me).

Others, take to the sport, learn they have a knack for it up front, in the elite pack, and choose to become racers – but always struggle with the “when will we be recognized as real athletes with real winnings?” — interestingly, there appears to be a lot of burn-out and injury here, too.

Then, there is a more “life long” crowd. These people stay attached to the sport because they genuinely like it – the people, the challenges, the long excursions outdoors – but they never seem to take it too seriously. The non-addicts. They jump in and out when the feeling hits, try to train reasonably for a finish, and rarely judge the performance based on anything other than how they felt about the entire experience.

I guess, in 2013, this is the ultrarunner I strive to be. There are some events, like Zane Grey 50-mile, like Fuego Y Agua 100K, that I want to do for very personal reasons, knowing full well I will have a mind-blowing experience that will wreck me to complete exhaustion, regardless of how well I’m trained.

But, not for one single second will I believe that any of my training beyond 20 miles is really fitness training – and in fact, I will view it as counterproductive to becoming the strongest, fittest and healthiest that I can become.

With regards to physical movement (i.e. exercise), strength, fitness and optimal health comes from a variety of functional training, from a variety of styles and adaption, and NOT specialization in one movement or activity.

First of all, I guess I should start an obstacle racing race report website since clearly these aren’t ultramarathons, and that’s what people expect at this site.

Stay tuned for Obstaholics.com, but in the meantime…

The 2012 Jungle Cup Race Results

Let’s Get Ready to Jungle

photo: chillin’ with some local obstacle racer pals. Scored 7th AG, 32nd Overall.

I’ll admit I went into this race with little positive expectations. The reviews were really bad, and after racing Spartan races, the bar has already been set pretty high for me.

Let’s face it – I’m not a team-building guy when it comes to these events. I enjoy times with friends and I’ll help others along the way, and accept help from others, as certain obstacles call for it, but I like to race, and if we both approach a cargo net together, you can bet your butt I will work hard to get up and over it before you do – both because I’m competitive, but also because of the fact that I have a paralyzed diaphragm, and my weakness, and where you’ll catch me afterwards, is during the run.

Less Obstacles, More Running

The Jungle Cup race was what I call organic.

There were a lot of man-made objects, but they did a really good job of using the surrounding terrain, too, to create obstacles that felt functional and “real world”-challenging. Most of the man-made obstacles were at both the beginning and end of the race, with the remaining long stretches winding through lots of ups-n-downs and technical single-track trail at the Conyers Horse Park, home of the first-ever Olympic mountain biking course in the world.

On the difficulty scale, this one was a 5 out of 10. I was tired at the end, but that’s because my boy Matt B. Davis, star of the famous obstacle racing podcast, was pushing me a little more than I wanted during the run. We both later shared stories of, “well, if you were going to run the hill, I was too…”-kinda stuff that always seems to get a dude in trouble. Hash tag – ego.

Did I Say Organic?

“So is the course marked well”, I asked.

“I think so.” said the race volunteer at the start. “This is our first time out of Miami and not many of our volunteers showed up.”

uh-oh.

But not to worry. No one got lost, and although I lead our heat a few times, I never made any wrong turns, or took people off course …well, not too off course.

A Blazing Beginning

Our heat was so small compared to other races, so the start felt more intimate with lots of hand-shaking and “good luck” nods. We took off across the chip-timed mats and headed across a field to the first obstacle – a short, 5 foot wall that I leaped without really even thinking about it. Being used to Spartan, I found it a little lame there was just this one lone wall, but it was sort of there to introduce the next section of technical trail, I think.

We ran through some trail and jeep road, and a dude named JD joins me upfront. He moves ahead and hits the freezing-cold water river before me. The water was, at most, waist deep, but it was really cold and murky, so the footing was slow and deliberate.

After popping out of the water, we ran up to stack of logs where we had to carry them up a short hill, circle a stake in the dirt and return. Once again, after experiencing Spartan sandbag nightmares, coupled with the concrete block carry and tire-flipping obstacles, this log thing at Jungle Cup was a piece of cake. I ran with mine.

More fun single-track led us to a sandbag carry, negotiating a weird, horizontal net, then descending into some cold water, traversing the water while a photographer fired off photos, and then ascending a muddy, slippery bank to return the sandbag, before running again up a nice li’l uphill.

Technical Trail Trotting

This must be where they had trouble getting volunteers, but what the course lacked over the next miles in obstacles, it made up for in good ol’ technical trail running. Tight turns, quick steep climbs, slippery sketchy downhills, and plenty of downed trees to scramble over and across.

But it was during this section where I found the coolest obstacles of the day – the rope rappel.

The trail skirted this HUGE drop-off, maybe 100 feet, and volunteers would stop us so we didn’t just run right off the edge, into nowhere. They had placed a couple ropes, down this VERY steep, and long, drop-off. It was a little intimidating to look at, but I tend to be strong at things like this, and I had a great time getting myself to the bottom …but, then, we ran a few feet past, and realized we had to then climb back up using another rope.

I loved this, but think it would be most cool and challenging if they would have had a series of those. Down-n-up once was challenging and taxing, but 6-10 times would be an all-out physical war with one’s strength and grip.

More technical trail running ensued, and all this time Matt Davis was chugging along with me.

We both ran a long, semi-steep hill, that we later said we only ran cuz the other one did, but both of us were glad we did it. +1

Playing on the Playground

As we rolled into the last mile of this 3.77 mile obstacle course trail race, we did a lot of climbing:

• Pretty typical cargo net
• A log climb thing with logs spaced out about three feet apart, going up
• A very easy, climb-able wall
• Climbing ropes
• A very weak mud crawl with zero danger (no barbed wire)
• Some kind of barrel push thing that I missed. (never even saw it)
• A cool, and VERY challenging slanted muddy wall
• A Tarzan rope swing over cold water
• Some skinny balance beam logs over cold water
• A bar traverse over water

Then jump into this freezing cold, nasty brown, water pool, before climbing out and running across the finish line.

Done.

Would I Do It Again?

Yes. I had a great time, and when I finished, I felt like I had done something, so that’s a win; but I did just look at it as Spartan Beast training for Texas next weekend.

In all honesty, I didn’t feel that great (and still don’t typing this out with a 100.9 fever), so I appreciated the tamer obstacles and the opportunity to trot around on some technical trail. Typically, I like them to be more difficult than this race, but clearly, this race is designed to accommodate all levels of obstacle athlete.

What  I liked:

• Lots of technical trail running
• Low key atmosphere
• Really cool rope rappelling section
• Sandbag carry
• the “playground” of back-to-back obstacles at the end
• encouraging volunteers

What I didn’t like:

• Missing an obstacle cuz I never knew it was there and no volunteer to point it out
• No food or fluid replenishment to be found anywhere at the finish
• Limited obstacles

The Jungle Cup is a good race for those looking for a more modest challenge. It’s nothing like a Spartan Race, and the obstacles are just not that challenging. However, it’s fun and great day of physical fitness training, outdoors, and sometimes that’s just what the doctor ordered.

Not really, but I want you to read and knew a strong title would get me eyeballs.

suckers…

Spartan Sprint is a Different Kind of Hard

This is more accurate.

After selecting the grueling 13-mile Spartan Beast as my first Spartan race, I was concerned that perhaps the Gulf Coast Spartan Sprint race, with a distance that would fall somewhere between 3 and 5 miles, wouldn’t be all that challenging.

Well, as usual, I was a big dummy and totally wrong.

Lining Up in the Elite Heat

I run the elite heats, not because I think I’m all that, but because I:

• like running as early as possible
• want to accrue Spartan points (although I’ve since learned they mean nothing)
• don’t want to get stuck behind waves of “team building” athletes
• am eager to push myself to complete courses in the least amount of time
• enjoy supporting all the other waves after I’m thoroughly spent

As I jumped around both eager and nervous to get this gnarly race started, the dude on the loud speaker broke it down:

• you thought the race was 5K, but the race is now 4.2 miles (no problem)
• you thought we’d have 25 obstacles, there are 31 (woo hoo!)
• there is 1 mile of barbed wire (there wasn’t)
• there is a memorization challenge (there kinda was)
• you will do 30 burpees before you finish no matter what (that sucked)
• you thought fire was lame, so we stepped it up a notch!

Ok, so no, they didn’t really say the thing about the fire, but if you remember my race report from the Spartan Beast, I was pretty vocal about how lame I think fire jumping is in obstacle racing. It might make a good photo opportunity, but there is zero challenge in it, and in my opinion, it adds a level of hokey to an otherwise very challenging field of obstacles.

So, being the self-centered, arrogant man that I am, I was convinced that the course designers read my report and immediately began developing ways to make fire “not so lame.” – and they did – as instead of finishing the race with some little silly hop over knee-high flames, the course designers put a fire obstacle right at the start, 30 yards from the starting line, and dug a waist-to-chest deep water hole on the other side!

Aroo! This was killer.

Just looking at it made you cringe because you knew that it was going to either create a total cluster of fools freezing up, tentatively jumping in and getting crushed by the onslaught behind them – or – it was going to create a mad dash of dudes (and maybe dudettes) trying to jump the entire thing, fire brush stack AND water hole, all in one mad leap of faith.

And that’s exactly what happened.

I stepped the fire, jumped into the water, and raised both my elbows behind me. If someone was going to decide to jump on me, they were going to take one or two mean elbows in the gut, and we’d both hurt.

I got lucky.

One dude did not – Broken ankle.

A More Organic Spartan Sprint

Being a Founder’s Race, this Spartan Sprint promised to be a little different, with a field of more ‘natural’ obstacles.  What this ended up equating to was a lot of really technical trail with hanging vines and long stretches of thorny terrain. Of course, mudding was a huge part of this organic attention along with various rope climbs, stream crossings, dark-n-creepy tunnel traverses, sand crawls, deep holes, huge hay bales, stream-running, and a bucket fill-n-carry that was really %^%$! hard.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Spartan without the 20 ft. vertical rope climbs, cargo nets, log crossings, and a plethora of over-n-under walls to negotiate.

I didn’t fail any obstacles except the stupid spear throw.

30 burpees.

Best Spot? The Spectator Area

But by far, the coolest experience came about 3.5 miles into the race, when we popped out of the woods, into a field of back-to-back obstacles that were non-stop. I’ll see if I can remember it:

• Climb the 20 ft. rope, ring the bell, descend
• Stumble around in a knee-deep muddy creek to the barbed wire
• Crawl under the barbed wire for awhile to the hay bales
• Jump into a mud pit (or over it), climb over a 5ft round bale of hay (repeat 5 times)
• More barbed wire …for a long time
• More hay, not so long…
• Get to spear throw. One throw and if it doesn’t stick in the hay bale, 30 burpees
• Ascend a muddy trench, and enter a bunker tunnel with huge rocks and dirt
• crawl through the bunker tunnel for a good 50 yards
• descend a bunch of mud pits dug into a downhill
• more barbed wire
• swim through a flowing creek of molten mud to the next barbed wire field
• crawl through yet more barbed wire
• climb back uphill through mud pits slippin’ and slidin’ everywhere
• get 25 feet from the finish, then told that to finish you had to complete 30 burpees
• hated the guy that said it, grumbled a lot, and burpeed away while they counted off

Then, and only then, can you cross the finish line and collect yo’ medal.

Bastards! …but I love ‘em.

1:03 and made the top 3% of finishers, and did 60 burpees.

(although for some reasons results show me as 1:05 and top 1%, but the math doesn’t work)

Addiction In Full Effect

That makes three obstacle races since my first on October 17, and my fourth will be on December 1, at the Jungle Cup in Atlanta. I’m so addicted because I’ve found a sport that truly utilizes my strengths, and encourages me to continue my favorite style of training – i.e. functional fitness.

I am meeting so many cool people and making all kinds of new friends – from the crazy MudRunFun clan from Florida, to the entire Georgia Obstacle Runners group, to my new Atlanta buds Matt B. Davis and Alex Martin, who entertained me plenty on the ride to Mississippi. TPFB!!!

I spent awesome time with the speedo-n-animal-hat-wearin racing freak, “Deater”, who spent hours with me volunteering to pull fools out from the dirt pit on obstacle 2. Just awesome camaraderie and good times.

Did You Quit Ultrarunning?

A lot of people ask me if I’m over ultrarunning. No, not even close.

After Thanksgiving, Fuego Y Agua 100K training kicks in full effect, and part of that training will be the Mountain Mist 50K in January. Not that I was ever a star at ultrarunning, or anything really, but I’ve never been a one-trick pony, and I don’t intend to ever be.

Instead, I intend to do and try and be anything and everything I possibly can. Life is too short not to try everything available to us. I want to throw out all preconceived notions and ideas and simply CHARGE IT! …charge it all!

Arthur taught me that; and some of you know what that means.

“Are you bleeding?” asked the pair of girls running straight at me.

“uh…, I dunno.” I answered as I quickly scanned my body, “but, probably.”

Her and her friend were about 2 miles into a later heat, and I was approaching the finish of the 9:00 a.m. elite heat, so I could have cared less about a little blood – I was just focused on getting my butt to that finish line – cuts and scrapes be damned.

The Rogue Runner Obstacle Race

I fell in love with obstacle racing from the word “go!” at the Spartan Beast Race in South Carolina.

As a functional fitness junkie, obstacle racing really appeals to me and gives me a venue for putting that kind of training to the test; as a runner, the sport adds a whole new dimension to something I already love; and as an adrenaline fiend? Well, all you have to do is hit some waist-deep, cold water in the middle of a race to understand the unwavering attraction.

The Rogue would be my second obstacle race, and although it was 7 miles shorter than the Spartan Beast, it still contained 25 obstacles (31 by some runner counts), over 10K (6.2 miles right on the nose) of gnarly trail running, with some really cool and interesting obstacles.

I met up with a growing group of Georgia obstacle racers that has started as a Facebook group, and is quickly growing into a legit club of athletes. Our group had a great showing with one of our members winning for the ladies, and one of our members winning the entire race outright in 58 minutes and some change. There are athletes who don’t complete a road 10K in under an hour, let alone one with 25+ obstacles thrown in the mix.

Kid is stone sick.

The Rogue Runner Obstacles

When I got to the race, I got to sneak a peak at a couple of the obstacles thrown at us near the finish line. A 7-foot wall, a 40-50 yard barbed wire field of mud, a baseball field backstop fence, and an 8-foot wall with a roof of cargo net – all within 150 yards of the finish line.

“Damn, we’re in for a treat today!” I thought to myself.

And we were.

The race was extremely challenging at points and I found myself completely spent at the finish line.

That being said, I’m going to be completely honest in my experience so as to stay true to the integrity of the writing, AND so that others can make educated decisions when choosing what events to run or not to run.

Off the Blocks

After meeting up with the Georgia Obstacle Racers group, shaking hands and meeting people, we lined up for the elite heat to start at 9:00 a.m. using jokes and smart-ass comments to ward off the nervous butterflies.

We hit some tame obstacles immediately from the start, and already people were freezing up on the approach.

I’m not trying to judge, but if you’re freezing up before jumping over creeks and picnic tables, you’re going to have a very, very long morning.

Some people failed the very first obstacle of simply jumping over a giant wooden spindle on its side, and these are people who chose to race in the elite heat. This is something that the sport is going to have to get a handle on because this can really slow the field down right out of the gate. If you are a 5/10K runner, you know a similar frustration when walkers line-up in the front pack.

It’s not about being mean, it’s about clogging up the race.

We jumped a creek, and sprinted uphill where a series of about 8 concrete picnic tables were placed for use to leap on, up and over. I saw many people completely skip the tables either not knowing we had to run them, or purposely doing so, but that was kind of lame either way. It was very clear to me that we were to run them, and I’m a noob at this sport.

At Spartan Race, you would have had some dude chasin’ you down and making you do 30 burpees.

After a pretty easy traverse wall, we hit a really cool balance obstacle over the lake that I struggled with due to some lingering vertigo. It was a balance beam of sorts where runners had to run into the water about chest-deep, jump up onto a dock, scurry across two, 2-inch wide, wobbly planks, to another dock without falling in the water.

Someone else jumped on my plank just as I got to the end and I fell in on my last step.

Next, we ran across a lot of muddy, low-water, lake-muck to some suspended logs to run across, some steel cabling suspended about 6 foot up in the trees, and then climbed some walls by placing pegs in holes along the way up.

Technical Trails

One of my favorite things about this race was the running terrain.

Why? Because it sucked …in a good way.

I have always been a fan of the mountain ultramarathons and trail races that have the gnarliest, rocky, root(y) trails with horribly crazy footing. This race had everything nasty – rocks, roots, pine-straw hidden ankle thrashers, cambered slopes, squishy sections, and knee-high debris to run through.

But best of all was the fact that most of the trail was not really “trail” at all. The race designers just decided that a certain direction seemed like a good way to go, and we were to run through “it”, whatever “it” might be.

Love that. Plus one for the Rogue Runner race fo’ sho’.

Gary Cantrell, Barkley RD, would have been proud.

The Water That Took My Breath Away

When we cannonballed off the docks, into the cold water, I was quickly reminded of my paralyzed diaphragm. I panic’d a little  when I couldn’t catch a breath, but collected and swam to the little dock perched on wobbly barrels. As a 205 lb dude, I just about pulled the little dock under water with me, but I eventually scaled it, got back in the water, and bounced to shore.

But, then came the huge construction-site dumpsters filled with cold water and wooden walls to swim under. Creepy, dude.

We wrapped mile 3 with more technical, non-existent “trail” running, some cargo net climbs, small wall climbs/crawls, and tractor tire silliness.

Lake of Mud

The course route ran us along a dried up, rocky lake bed where I immediately felt at home. We ran about mile, circling this tributary, with an easy balance wire rope obstacle thrown in under some bridge. I gained a lot of ground here as you started to see the sprinters start to fade.

Next up. MUD. 200 yards of “sometimes ankle-deep” and “sometimes crotch-deep” mud.

This slowed the field down quite a bit, but NO ONE was really any better at it than anyone else, so it was just a conga line of ridiculous looking fools floundering around in the mud like over-eager catfish on the shores of the Bayou.

So far, nothing too tough, and all relatively easy from this runner’s perspective.

Turn It Up

Yes! Barbed wire!

I mean, SH*T! Barbed wire…

Props to the Rogue Runner designers. They did barbed wire really cool, …and long. This muddy, rocky field of barbed wire went from the lake shore, up the bank, into the woods, around a some trees, back down the bank and back into the water. No kidding, you had to actually go underwater to get under the last strands of barbed wire.

Good job designers.

People looked frightened. I smiled a lot and let out a few barbaric yells. I was at home.

It was after this that I saw the two girls that asked me about the blood. Poor girls. They had no idea what was coming.

The Finish Sprint

So, yea, the finish sprint might have been my favorite part of the whole race. It felt the most like what I expect when I think of obstacle racing. Six (6) obstacles, back-to-back, one right after the other, and each pretty challenging and gnarly in their own way:

• First, jump a standard fence quickly into a baseball field
• Run 50 yards, and jump up, and over a 7 foot wall (parkour stylee)
• Next, more barbed wire, about 50 yards, where photographers were hammering the shutter button as we crawled and fought through some very slow and deep mud
• Then, immediately pop-out, and scale the backstop fence of the baseball field. Up ‘n over
• Lastly, the 7-8 foot wall, with the roof of cargo net, with another cargo net on the descent

And, done. 1:20:23 – 30th out of 831.

Muddy, spent and smiling.

Post -race Thoughts

This event was cool. I would definitely do it again without question.

Was it as good as the Spartan Beast? No. But it has promise, and I found some of the obstacles a little bit cooler than Spartan because they were more organic. Examples would be jumping fences, gnarly shore terrain running, climbing up ‘n over the baseball field backstop, and jumping over wide creeks in mid-stride. Even the opportunity to choose NOT to use the ropes to descend a steep downhill, opting instead to simply slide on your @ss to the bottom and hope for no splinters or sudden stumps. That’s gnarly trail running {grins}.

Some people had issues with the organization, and especially the front five dudes because no one was telling them where to go, and without discernible trail, I can see this being a challenge.

Me? I was able to just follow people, so I didn’t have any real issues. Plus, I’m used to wonky organization and getting lost and feeling stupid and not knowing where to go. I run ultras. We suffer this all the time. Some of us actually like it, so no complaints from me.

We’re kinda sick like that.

Remember the whole “liking it organic”-thing?

*OPINION: Important Steps for Growth

This is a really interesting time of growth for this sport of obstacle racing.

For one, its exploding and there are a million me-too events popping up left and right, all claiming to be the toughest, or offer the best experience. These are tough claims because unless you have done every single one, how can you really make that claim. Plus, what is tough to some, is a piece of cake to others; and none of this takes trail running experience into consideration.

Lastly, and most importantly to me, this event chose NOT to have any penalties for obstacle failure. I do not like this format as it allows people to simply skip obstacles, and promotes slack attempts. Trust me, if you fear 30 burpees upon failure, you have a stronger incentive to push yourself and dig deep on a challenging obstacle.

In this format, its possible for someone to simply run past every obstacle, doing just a trail 10K, and win the event. That just doesn’t seem right, and creates a big flaw in the integrity of the results.

I get it. There are some people who just want to create a team, and roll around in the mud on a Saturday, drink beer afterwards and post Facebook pics, and that’s cool all by itself; but that should be separate from the athletes who want to a consistent method of performance measurement that applies to all competitors.

By trying to be all things, to all people, organizers can make more money in the short-term, but in the long-term will have to deal with a million negative comments and complaints – and in the era of the social grid, this does not bode well for an event.

It’s going to be fun and exciting to be part of all this growth.

Boowah!

Bam! 13.28 miles, 3:32, placed 257 out of 2,133 athletes, and had a blast!

When my friend, and race director extraordinaire, Josue Stephens started talking on Facebook about training for the Spartan race, I thought to myself, “what??? this dude is a gnarly ultrarunner who either races hard, or doesn’t race.”

It’s not a machismo thing for him, but simply how he’s built. Go big or go home. You know what I mean…

So when he started talking about it, I was picturing the Warrior Dash / Muddy Buddy kind of races, and while those are cool in their intent, they just aren’t the kind of races I expect Josue to focus on, and certainly not “train-for”.

But, as usual, I was just being too quick to judge and completely uneducated.

Eyes Wide Open

Then, I Google’d and read:

SPARTAN BEAST: The ultimate Spartan’s Race Distance

12+ MILES / 25+ OBSTACLES – An obstacle Race from Hell. If you have done any race anywhere in the world: whether a mud run, fun run, olympic run, bike race, death march or any kind of event claiming to be the “toughest race on the planet” you will be happy to know that this is where it ends..THIS IS THE SPARTAN BEAST… Step up and get out of your comfort zone on our +16k beast of an obstacle course race; many will arrive, but few will leave!

– Spartan Beast, Spartan Race website

“Well, now… hmmmm…”

That got my attention.

Then, so did this video, {below}.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdlLowc6HTk

The narrated words, the power, the intensity, the cinematography, the total insanity, the amputees, the teamwork, the challenges, it all looked so cool and right up my alley.

I’m a dude of action when I’m moved. I don’t apologize for it. That’s how I’m built.

I registered right then and there.

A Thorough Experience. Total Body Challenge. Total Body Annihilation.

Race reports are getting harder and harder for me to write unless I head off to some exotic, interesting place that provides exposure to new experiences, new cultures, new people and new “stuff”. I can only say so much about a 50-mile trail race when it happens to be my 76th ultramarathon and can almost always be summed up by:

I ran too much, too early.

Walked a lot, later.

Rode highs.

Dipped to deep lows.

Suffered tremendously, sometimes kinda for nothing.

Met new friends, or more likely, “companions in suffering”.

For many people, the challenge of the run alone is enough. I’m still proudly one of those people – but – this obstacle racing stuff can be another level and I’ve been 100% addicted since I leaped that first moat.

Challenging obstacle racing is where trail-running becomes schizophrenic.

It’s where gymnastics gets dirty, and parkour visits the forest.

It’s where Crossfit, and other functional training methodologies, leave off and an incredible sport develops.

The Race

The course took place in the middle of nowhere, South Carolina, at an ATV and motocross facility called Carolina Adventure World.

Lots of short, steep hills, rocky single-track trail, and muddy lakes and river streams.

Along the course would be ~25 obstacles designed to test your functional fitness and “ingenuity under pressure”.

Standing in the starting chute, I don’t mind admitting I was more-than-intimidated.

Growling, snorting military dudes, CrossFit junkies, and a variety of younger athletes from other sports, all looking like Calvin Klein underwear models and all puffed-up, pumped-up, jacked-up and ready to hit the course like wolverines.

They marked our left calf with our age, and it didn’t take me long to realize that while I skew towards the average age of ultrarunners, in obstacle racing, I’m an old man.

The Start

An elite wave took off at 8:00 a.m., with open divisions taking off in 30-minute increments thereafter, ’til 1:30 p.m.

It’s the only way to handle 2,311 obstacle trail runners at once.

I was in the 8:30 wave, the group just behind the elites, so I was nervous and hoping I wasn’t going to get completely trampled in this corral of kicking bulls.

The first obstacle came within 1/10 of a mile in our trip down the trail. About five moats, five-foot deep, and 5-6 feet wide, full of deep muddy water. As we approached them, I saw people jumping over them, never losing stride, but I also watched a lot of less fortunate jumpers missing and falling into the water, completely submerged. We came up on the moats so fast, and with so many people bunched up, it was hard to see and process how wide they were, so I just leaped with every bit of power I had, and hoped for the best.

I made all 5 of them, but the explosive movement, coupled with how quickly they just appeared, and watching people get worked-over who missed, gassed me right from the start.

That’s what people don’t realize – sometimes its not so much the obstacle itself, but sometimes its simply the chaos it creates, along with the mental and emotional fatigue afterwards, that leaves your mind saying, “what in the Hell was all that!”

Next, without much time to mull over the moat experience, we hit with some walls to jump, along with some other various over-and-under obstacles. I remember at that point thinking, “ok, if this is the kind of stuff I’m gonna see, periodically down the trail, this is no big deal. I panicked for nothing.”

Let’s be honest, has thinking like that ever worked out for me?

The First Few Miles

After the two early obstacles, we hit rocky single-track trail that just constantly went up-n-down, over and over, short-n-steep, before arriving at a series of walls to ascend and jump over, crawl under, and various sized holes to jump through. These early walls were short, like 5 foot tall, so it didn’t take a lot of dip strength to get over ‘em, and I ripped through this one feeling more and more confident.

More gnarly single-track ensued and the pace picked up, but as an experienced trail runner, but newbie to obstacle racing, I paced very slowly, letting the fire-breathers take off, passing on my left. A lot of them saw my age on my leg and would say, “keep it up, sir” making me feel old and out of my league. In retrospect, much of my heat was military and 18-25 year old athletes, and I believe this is simply how they have been trained and were showing respect.

At 1.5 miles we hit the horizontal bars.

Think monkey bars, but with the bars thicker and spaced apart unevenly – nothing standard coming from these race designers.

Coming into the event, there are a few obstacles I feared due to my nerve damage and “winged scapula”. Anything that requires me to hang, hold, or lift my body weight, for an extended period of time, is a real challenge for me. I practiced a lot on an obstacle course near my house because of this, and although I had some fear once we approached the bars, I managed to smoothly cross the bars, running past the dudes who failed the obstacle and were now involved in 30 burpees.

By the way, yup, fail an obstacle, and you must perform 30 burpees to continue on with the race.

I hate burpees, so I tried extra hard to avoid them.

When we came to the log-crossings and stump-hopping, I remember thinking how easy this would be if one was fresh, but how much more difficult it was after running a just few miles, and having to get across quickly ‘cuz other runners are breathing down your neck.

I get a little fuzzy when trying to pin down all these obstacles perfectly, one by one, during this stretch, but after a quick little water stop, we came up on some blocks of concrete.

The males had to carry a block of concrete that felt about 70 lbs, across this short field, set it down, and carry another back. We also had an obstacle that required us to hoist a block of concrete with a pully. Honestly, this stuff was made for me. I may not be super fast, but I can lift stuff all day – like a farm boy.

Here Comes the Evil

Things started getting really interesting after mile five (5), and the obstacles began to gradually get more and more difficult.

After running down a shallow, loose-sand riverbed, we hit some vertical rope nets, which are deceptively difficult, especially when crawling over the top to start descending the other side.

Next came some challenging, 4-6 foot high, pine tree “hurdles” that are harder than walls because there is no mass below them to use to kick-off.

In between the obstacles, the rocky, short, steep hills just kept a’comin. I’d catch, and pass, lots of people on the climbs, but they’d scream past me on the downs.

I didn’t bite, though – I knew they’d pay later.

Mile six (6) was probably one of the most exciting sections of the race. This checkpoint brought us back to the Spartan Festival area where all the spectators were watching. I couldn’t believe how many people were there. Photographers, runner’s friends and families, and lots of locals. People were screaming and yelling, and before I could soak it all in, I saw why – the ropes.

Not only was this one of the obstacles that I feared, but I never expected the ropes to be sitting in a waist-deep muddy hole.

We had to crawl into the muddy water, grab the rope (wet, of course), and begin climbing as we dragged ourselves out of the water, headed up the rope. At the top, we had to ring a bell, and then descend back into the water, all while hundreds of people are watching and shooting photos.

I still don’t know how I did this. Fear of the camera, I think, but I also want to thank martial arts training for this as my fear gave me no choice but to pause, relax, and then set my sights on the task at hand.

But, before I could get too excited about this completion, I had to conquer the traverse wall – a vertical wall, with 6-inch pieces of 2x4s nailed to it – which runners had to horizontally traverse.

I was so wet and muddy, I couldn’t grip the wood at all and fell instantly.

30 burpees …along with a whole lot of other people, and failure on an obstacle I NEVER expected to fail.

Once again, count on nothing. Expect the unexpected.

Carnage, Cramps, and Crushed Confidence

After mile six (6) is where I really began to notice the carnage beginning to develop. People laying alongside of the trail shot-out or cramping due to lack of fluids, electrolytes, training – or a nasty combination of all three.

But, the line of the day for me was running behind these two dudes, one looking super-rough with his head hanging low, and as I passed, I heard the stronger one yell out to his buddy, “Maaaaan, that 42 year old dude just passed you like you were a stump.” – I couldn’t help but smile a little and soak in some old-man-pride.

Having years of trail running experience really helps. A lot.

That #$%^! Barbed Wire

Dude.

Really?

The barbed wire fields, to me, were absolutely the most challenging and brutal obstacles of the day – and lucky us – we got it twice at the Carolina Beast. Once at mile seven (7) and once at mile twelve (12).

Imagine this – you are crawling under criss-crossed, knee-high barbed wire, on top of crumbling mud, chunky rocks, and all the while, some dude is hammering you with a fire hose from the sidelines. Oh, and you are crawling, on your stomach, slow as Hell and uphill, for more than 50 yards.

That was just the first one.

The second one at mile 12 was waaaay gnarlier, much longer, hella steeper, and the barbed wire hung lower in various sections along the way. Just horribly nasty, but mighty satisfying at completion.

Some dudes were bleeding like stuck pigs. Not me. I took it sloooow.

Looking for that Finish Line

After the second field of barbed wire, I was completely shot.

Cramped-up and staggering up the final rocky climb, that led to the final five obstacles, all back-to-back, and all in front of the huge crowd of screaming spectators.

The first was a series of 8-foot walls. This is where teamwork really mattered, and I was running alone. I thought I was doomed until some super cool military competitor rolls up behind me and offers to assist in catapulting me in the air so that I could grab the top and muscle over the wall.

We repeated this over each of the 8-foot walls and that dude saved me from 60 burpees.

Next, the slippery, slanted walls with ropes. I saw people bust-ass here pretty good, so I figured I’d keep myself erect, wrap the rope around my arm, and just muscle up it. It worked, but descending the staggered 2x4s on the other side caused me to cramp and I just about fell off of the obstacle in shear panic.

I was now starting to get mentally frustrated, too. Starting to “crack” a little.

The spear throw followed. You get one chance to throw this make-shift spear about 20 yards and make it stick in a bale of hay. Harder than it sounds, and if you miss, or it doesn’t stick, 30 burpees await you – and all while so very close to the finish line.

Luckily, and just barely, mine stuck.

Last, the fire jump. I think jumping knee-high fire is corny, and while it might make for some cool photo ops, its not challenging and feels really gimmicky; but whatever, I was almost done.

All I had to do was get passed the dudes with the gladiator paddles, and cross the finish line.

I charged those dudes like a crazed bull. I didn’t care how hard they hit me, I was going straight at ‘em.

Because I didn’t try to run around them, they get couldn’t get the paddles on me, and I pretty much skated across the finish line – staggering, bobbing and weaving from total physical annihilation.

My Thoughts on Obstacle Racing

Plain and simple – I’m totally hooked. I left out a lot of obstacles such as:

• 50 lb sand bag carry up and down a steep hill
• Another rope climb in the middle of the woods
• A deeper water river run
• Tire-flipping
• Staggered stumps traverse
• and more, and more, and more. Too many to mention in one report.

But, I feel like I was made for this sport.

Where I lack in small stature for running really fast at distance, I make up for in strength and experience. I now know what I need to train to attack my weak points, and where I can optimize to be faster and perform better.

But aside from the the competitive side of things, I really liked this genre of athlete. People who are physically strong, mentally tough, but surprisingly humble and helpful. The whole teamwork thing is huge here, and I can’t help but believe that comes from the strong military-esque vibe that permeates the scene. It’s much like ultrarunning in that way, and I think ultrarunners looking for a different kind of challenge will feel at home in obstacle racing.

Spartan Race Quick-Hits

The Good

• Great organization and communication, pre-race and race day
• Exciting on-location event
• Ridiculously challenging course (Beast race, at least)
• Tremendous camaraderie
• Loads of encouragement at obstacles. Funny smack-talkers, too
• A great venue for testing your functional fitness

The Bad

• Jumping fire is lame. It just is.
• Some people cheated their burpees. You’re only cheating yourself.
• Paying to park
• Paying for post-race food
• Paying for bag check

While this sport is taking off like crazy, I expect it to continue to grow like wildfire. It’s a natural thing for functional training athletes whether it’s Crossfit, p90X, Insanity, TRX, or whatever you subscribe to as a fitness methodology. The more varied of an athlete you are, the better you will do, but training is absolutely key.

Couch-to-obstacle-racer? No way. At least not the Beast.

I can’t wait to do it again, and will do so at the Rogue Runner Race in Georgia, November 3rd.

Wanna play?

The toughest trail races always seem to be the most beautiful.

After a slow, but personally successful Laurel Valley 35-mile trail race in the foothills of South Carolina in August, it seemed natural to take the next step and hit a 50-miler. And, as usual, I gravitated towards a rugged one – the Georgia Jewel 50-mile race along the Pinhoti Trail in North Georgia.

The difficulty of the race was not the climbs, nor the descents. It was the rocks. Sure we climbed – a lot – but the millions of jagged, gnarly rocks, made covering long stretches an agonizing, ankle-stability challenge. I found myself with a face full of dirt multiple times along this course, concurrently teaching those around me a whole new slang of cuss words.

A lot of reports have come out already about this race, so I’m tardy; but I wanted to wait until I really gathered my thoughts and could reflect on the impact the race had on me.

50 miles of gnarly trail goes like this…

The first 25 miles

“Do you two do this the whole race?” asked a female runner motoring up the pitch black paved road alongside me.

Yup, I may have been out of ultrarunning for awhile, but me and Weezy picked up right where we left off – two smack-talking friends, finding ways to emasculate one another as loudly and as obnoxiously as possible, completely oblivious to our annoyance of others on the trail.

It’s just how we roll. I apologize. …not really, tho.

After 1.8 miles, we dipped onto the Pinhoti trail and would not see pavement again until the return, 46 miles later.

Rocks, Rocks, Rocks

For the first hour, I ran completely in the dark, with a dim, cheap ol’ headlamp, while trying to negotiate an almost laughable rock garden. People were busting @$$ everywhere, including me. I was begging for the sun to come up before something really bad happened.

After sunrise, I found myself moving better-than-expected along the high ridges of the first 10 mile section. I wish I had some cool, dramatic things to write about during this section, but it was simply a beautiful morning of sunshine and slow, rock-skippin’ runnin’ through the woods.

I didn’t even stop at the first aid station, 10-miles in, and instead just headed into the damp canyon-like section feeling confident, and completely forgetting how much difference there is between a 50K (30-33 miles), and a 50-mile race.

A good climb out of that deep canyon woke me up a bit, but once again, I found myself up high, running a rocky ridge with incredible views, a nice breeze, and a really comfortable feeling; however, people started passing me, which led me to believe I was being too comfortable, but I just didn’t care. My goals were different. I had no time  goals, no place goals, no-nothing goals – I just wanted to be able to say that 5 months after being in the hospital, I completed 50 miles, and that’s it. I wanted to prove to myself that I can do anything, while also working to eliminate “I can’t” and “I quit” from my vocabulary.

Some Things Become a Necessity …Like Breathing

I sometimes find myself still in a state of shock from my ordeal.

Technically-speaking, I have a handicap. And not only that, but I have a handicap inside of my body. It’s not visible to the outside world. The only people who would know are family, friends, and much of the ultrarunning community that know me from races and this blog.

I don’t limp, have a prosthetic leg, or wheel around in a chair – I have nerve damage – nerve damage that makes breathing difficult, and right-side mobility a challenge.

Sitting here writing, I can obviously breathe; but when the going gets tough, I struggle. When I push my body aerobically or anaerobically, experience immense stress, or position my body in an elongated position, I simply cannot get enough oxygen and I experience all of the symptoms that follow oxygen deprivation like muscle weakness, cramping, fatigue, loopy brain and loss of dexterity.

But worst of all, is the shear panic of fear. If you have ever been a situation when you cannot get a breath, you know it is one of the most scary, helpless feelings in the entire world. This is one reason the video below resonates so well with me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdlLowc6HTk

Handicapped is, as Handicapped Does

Once the parking attendant at St. Joseph’s Medical Center started calling me by my first name, I knew I had to do something different.

I stopped chasing a cure, doting over various doctors, and decided to just kept going as best I could until I can’t anymore.

That’s what ultrarunners do. We just keep going.

The second 25 miles

Weezy, Sully, and Bo caught me around mile 22 and I was really glad to see those guys. I had been running alone for most of the race and I knew Weezy’s ridiculousness, coupled with Sully’s stories of South Carolina runnin’ folk, would keep me entertained and less focused on my rapidly increasing fatigue. It was getting hot. Rising body heat and my “situation” don’t play well with one another, so backing off was a necessity for me. I kept telling the dudes to push on ahead, but they never really did. A sort of unspoken brotherhood was going on, so that was cool.

But when we hit those infamous switch-backs, with the stone steps, that ended up dumping us into a long climb to the top of John’s Mountain (I think it was John’s Mountain) to the turn-around, I sorta fell out.

I really don’t want to harp any more than I have to on my “medical issues”, but in short, during tough climbs, my heart-rate skyrockets, requiring more oxygen, but I can’t get enough oxygen. This depletes my legs (and other muscles) rather quickly and taxes the muscles that are taking place in lieu of my paralyzed diaphragm.

No oxygen is no oxygen. It affects my brain, my heart, my legs, my arms – and it became very obvious, very quickly, even to me, that I was inches from falling out at the top of the mountain.

I barely even remember being up there.

A Snappy Recovery

Luckily, and I attribute this to my new interest in other varied activities like martial arts and boxing, my recovery from this ordeal was swift and speedy. By the time we got to the bottom again, I was 80% together – but wounded for sure.

Again, I tried to get the boys to go ahead, but again I’d find myself right there in the midst of ‘em.

It was really hot now. Like, 1:00 pm, sun overhead, 82 degrees and humid, hot; and we were climbing our butts off, making our way to the 33-mile aid station, where after leaving there, we’d be climbing yet again.

After summiting those climbs, I got ahead of the boys as we descended into the 33-mile aid station for no other reason than I felt good, was in a groove, and just letting gravity do its thing. A few blisters had developed by now, but nothing crazy, so it was in-and-out of the aid station pretty quickly.

And Now: The Sufferfest

I knew it had to hit me eventually.

As I topped out of the 1-mile climb from mile 33, back onto the high ridges, I started to get really woozy.

“what if I’ve pushed it too much?” I’d ask myself …then quickly dismissing it, calling myself terrible names of weakness, and continuing on.

Bo was the first to catch me at around mile 35, yelling, “hey man, Weezy dropped out, man” in that southern accent you ONLY hear in South Carolina. “he stayed right ‘der in the chair at the aid station and said he couldn’t go on.”

At first I was mad. Then, disappointed. Then, knowing we all rode together in Weezy’s car, I started to loathe the ride home picturing our boy all sad and dejected. Turns out, that never happened, thankfully, but at the time, I was really baffled.

And Then There Were Three

The three of us pushed on together, with Bo jumping ahead by a few minutes, but Sully hanging right with me. That Sully is a good dude, man. I wouldn’t have done it. Still not sure I would today – I’m just made different – but, fearing I may have pushed it too much, I appreciated his company more than words can say and can only hope that someday I can be that selfless.

At the 40-mile aid station I saw a female runner friend of mine who looked pretty rough, but I knew she was tough as nails and I tried to get her to continue with us and not drop-out so deep into the race. It was disappointing for me that she couldn’t continue and it made me reflect on previous races where I was in the same boat. That feeling is just horrible. For me anyway…

I don’t have a lot to say about the last 10 miles. The rocks were eating me alive. What was easy, rolling climbs and descents on the way out, became evil quad-killers and feet-chewers on the way back.

Sully and me, just gettin’ it done.

As we popped out of the trail and hit the road for the final 1.8 miles, I wasn’t quite ready for civilization. I had spent over 13 hours at that point buried in the woods, and the cars just seemed foreign, and fast, and bothersome.

Weezy was standing at the base of the hill, pretending to film me, and yelling encouragement, but it all just sounded like Charlie Brown’s classroom teacher to me. I was in an emotional place.

I conquered a lot of demons on that trail, Saturday. I proved a lot of things to myself, and became that much more secure in my decision to just live my life and hope for the best. Free from medicines, and MRIs, and CT scans, and waiting room music, and $7 parking fees, and grouchy desk nurses, and fights with insurance, and… well, I’m just not doing it.

So then the next question becomes – what 100 am I going to do?

Yee Haw!