Run It Fast®

Pikes Peak Marathon Race Report (2006) – Trent Rosenbloom

Pikes Peak or Bust –

The Pikes Peak Marathon is in a class of its own, distinguished by Pikes Peak itself, one of Colorado’s most notorious 14ers. Among the 53 or 54 mountains in Colorado higher than 14 000 feet at the summit, Pikes Peak carries a reputation for challenge and a history of intimidation. Pikes Peak derives its fame and reputation from being easily visible for many miles to the east, more so than any other of the Colorado Rocky Mountains. It has long been the single goal for homesteaders and then miners headed westward.  For these early westerners, Pikes Peak was once thought to be unconquerable due to its elevation, conditions and location. While it is now clear that the Peak can be readily summited by car, foot or rail, the Barr Trail up its eastern face remains among the most challenging footpaths around.

From town, the round trip up the Barr Trail to the Pikes Peak summit is just shy of twenty-six miles. It would seem logical to create a marathon that covers the up and down route, right? Well, the Pikes Peak Marathon is not your usual marathon. It is not a road race since most is on trail, and it is not a typical trail marathon because it starts and finishes on road, has a large field with plentiful aid stations along the course, and takes most participants far longer to complete than other marathons. Furthermore, because of the big mountain that occupies most of the course. For most, the Pikes Peak marathon is actually two events: it is first a long 13.1 mile fast run/hike over an average 11% grade path that includes a road, a narrow trail and numerous switchbacks and rocky step-ups to a point well above treeline; second is a tough as nails, body-beating downhill half marathon on the same course, with a clock timing the whole thing as a single event. As you climb from below 7000 feet elevation to above 14 000 feet, the air thins, your thinking muddles, your legs tire and your mind despairs. But time flies and before you know it, you are headed back downhill. Most runners cannot actually run the whole way up.  Yet a few feet from the turnaround point, you feel the air return and your thoughts clear. This occurs just in time to feel the burning in your quads and back. Pace is vital; run ahead of your abilities and predicted time and you will risk burning out.  Run too slow and you will risk spending too long under the dangerous conditions on the mountain. The average finish time for the past five years is 7:06 for men and 7:36 for women. Last year’s winner finished in 3:58. These are very long times for a run at marathon distance, speaking to the difficulty of this course.

This past March I signed up to run this marathon, which was a strange thing for me to do.  I never really saw my self as a runner or an endurance athlete, and until recently I never put in consistent miles. I had grown up an introverted and asthmatic kid and participated in very little physical activity, instead preferring schoolwork, camping and computers. The madness leading up to my registration actually began about thirteen years ago. I remember a friend taking me to a running store to buy my first pair of running shoes.  After that, the two of us would periodically run and walk/run a three mile loop near my home. My friend was always stronger and faster than I, but he patiently helped me along and to build a small base.  At that time, I was in school and the running helped both to clear my mind and to challenge me. But I never ran seriously, competitively or regularly. Over time and with effort I improved, and eventually I was able to complete the three-mile loop near my home without stopping.  I had many other interests and activities in my life, however, and for many years I ran only sporadically and never more than three miles. I remember back six and a half years ago when I realized that I wanted to attempt to run a marathon. I had watched folks on television running the inaugural Country Music Marathon in Nashville, TN, and figured that if they can do it, so could I. Some time later, I actually started to train. But I had no idea what I was doing, did not really take the training program I had downloaded off the web very seriously and did not properly build up my miles. I ran the second annual Country Music Marathon, bonked at mile 12, and then did not run again for three and a half years.

Things changed a little over a year and a half ago when I was inspired anew to run. My older daughter had been running cross-country in grade school and I realized that I missed the sport. Shortly thereafter I learned that I was going to be near Duluth, MN over the weekend of the 2005 Grandma’s Marathon.  From friends, I had heard great things about Grandma’s Marathon: it runs along a beautiful and flat route along the shores of Lake Superior during the cool of the Minnesota early Summer. To run Grandma’s, I had only 7 1/2 months to build my mileage base back up from nothing. That very evening I tied on my old running shoes, ran a mile and didn’t collapse from the effort. The next day I ran two. Then three. Within a month, I was actually up to about 20 miles per week. With this base established, I started training regularly the following January. I first trained with a local running club, the Nashville Striders, for the 2005 Country Music Marathon.  Country Music Marathon was scheduled to occur seven weeks before Grandma’s that year. My goal in training for the Country Music Marathon was to benefit from the local training program, and to allow myself a seven-week window to recover should I become injured or sick during training. By good fortune I did not get injured or sick and so I ran the Country Music Marathon, and then Grandma’s Marathon 7 weeks later. My times were not special, but I was able to keep going and completed the distance. Somewhere along the way I thought it might be fun to complete five marathons in ’05.  This goal was both silly and arbitrary. But what the heck? After three marathons in the Fall, I completed this goal.

I met 2006 without any significant running goals. I wanted to break 4:00, which I did easily in my first marathon of the year, and I also ran a few tough marathons in the following weeks, including really hot Country Music and Grandma’s Marathons, and a hilly, long (i.e., it was about 26.9 rather than 26.2 miles) Grandfather Mountain Marathon. Finishing the Grandfather Mountain Marathon, I had tallied up nine marathons in 14 months and ten in my life. These were fun and it is always great to go through the finish line at a marathon. But I wanted more of a challenge.

A group from Nashville had run the Pikes Peak Marathon during each of the past few years, and they always have had great stories to tell and pictures to share.  Last year they went out early and ran a few races in the weeks before and had a blast. One of them in particular, Diane, is very convincing and very nice, runs a lot of marathons and ultramarathons, and when she says “c’mon”, it is really easy to follow. So this year, when registration opened and she made sure I knew it had opened, I gave Pikes Peak serious consideration. Because last year was the 50th anniversary for the Pikes Peak Marathon, interest in the run was high and the marathon was expected to fill in less than 24 hours.  I knew I had to make a quick decision. I checked with my wife (who was not sure what she was getting herself into) and she said, “Whatever you want to do”. So I registered. Once registered, I knew that I had to put my shoes where my money went. From Nashville at an elevation of 500 feet above sea level, with hills that max out at about 400 feet, I somehow had to train to complete a marathon at high elevation that climbs vertically nearly one and a half miles in elevation gain over its course, then drops the same before the finish, with the whole thing taking 150%-200% of my normal marathon completion time.

When asked to name the hardest marathon in the country, many runners name Pikes Peak. The Pikes Peak Marathon carries the moniker “America’s Ultimate Challenge”. When asked about Pikes Peak, many veterans equate it to a tough ultramarathon. They make this comparison not because of the total distance, which after all is just 26.2 miles. Rather, the Pikes Peak Marathon is equated with ultramarathons because of the long time required to finish, the strategy required for completing it, the fact that it is mostly on steep rugged trail, and that it requires as much effort as many ultras. In addition to the trail conditions, the elevation and the length, Pikes Peak adds the potential for extreme weather; it could be hot and sunny, raining and slick with lightning, or even snowing and sleeting (as was the case last year). And runners may experience all of these conditions during the course of a single run. To compound the drama, people running this thing occasionally die. As in dead. I was fortunate to have had a conversation with Jack Menard, an ultramarathoner who recently completed the Badwater 135 mile Ultramarathon that starts in Death Valley and finishes at the base of Mount Whitney. Menard stated that Badwater is just a long walk in the heat, while Pikes Peak is really tough. I think he may have been exaggerating, but there is truth in every lie. Many runners jump off from running Pikes Peak into ultramarathoning because after the Peak, 26.2-mile races on flat asphalt courses just don’t compare. What was I thinking? My wife keeps telling me that she needs to buy more life insurance for me.

Living in Nashville, how was I supposed to prepare for this challenge? How could I ensure that I would complete the marathon and come away uninjured and with positive memories? How could I do as well as possible on such a tough run? Well, the first thing I did was go over to Matt Carpenter’s website, www.skyrunner.com. Carpenter lives, trains and runs at the high altitudes of Manitou Springs, the home of the Marathon. Carpenter sets records on nearly every course he runs, including the Pikes Peak Marathon. Last year he took a break from Pikes Peak to run the Leadville Trail 100 mile Ultramarathon, and crushed the record there by finishing in 80% of the time of the prior record.  Carpenter knows a thing or two about running hills and distance at high elevation. From the website, his basic suggestions for those who live close to sea level and without major mountains (i.e., so called “flatlanders”) is nonetheless to emulate the Pikes Peak Marathon as much as possible. To do that, one needs to: 1) run several times for more than four or more hours; 2) run at inclines of 10-12%; 3) run as much as possible on rugged trails; and, 4) learn as much about the course as you can. Carpenter comments that for flatlanders, there is no way to emulate the effects and feelings of running at altitude short of actually running at altitude. That said, I had received other advice that any time I spent at high elevation in the days leading up to the marathon would help. Since I have a day job and could not go to Colorado for weeks or months of high altitude training, the best I could do would be to spend a single week beforehand climbing some of Colorado’s 14 000 foot mountains and sleeping at 10 000 feet above sea level. Just a week at high elevation would not suffice to permit my body fully to acclimate. However, it would allow me to begin a physiologic adjustment, and would lead to some mental acclimatization. By that I mean I would learn what low oxygen feels like and have a sense of how to deal with the chest palpitations, dizziness, nausea and headache that it brings. It was also possible that spending the time at altitude would reduce the chance I would feel those symptoms during the marathon itself.

So I did my best to follow Carpenter’s guidance. I ran a few marathons this Spring as training runs, including another tough and hilly Grandfather Mountain Marathon in Boone, NC seven weeks before Pikes Peak. I pushed my weekly miles higher than they had ever been, purposefully flirting with overtraining. I ran fairly technical 4- and 7-mile trails that include some major steep climbs and descents. And I read the Pikes Peak Marathon route description several times. I ran as often as I could in the boiling hot and humid Middle Tennessee Summer to grow accustomed to running dehydrated and under uncomfortable conditions.  Then, having done all I could in Nashville, I went with our local Pikes Peak Marathon group to Colorado nine days before the marathon to run, climb mountains at high elevation and begin to adjust to the altitude. The marathon was on Sunday, so we flew out to Denver Friday a little more than a week before to begin the process.

Our plan for the week was to spend as much time sleeping, sitting, hiking and running at high elevation. Saturday, we ran the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon. The run started at 8500 feet elevation, then dropped 1000 feet over its course, despite a few rolling ups. I ran feeling short of breath and lightheaded, with heavy spaghetti legs the whole way. All the runners in our group ran about a minute/mile slower than our usual half marathon pace. Upon completing the half marathon, we went to Leadville, Colorado to spend a couple of nights sleeping at an elevation of 10 000 feet above sea level. On Sunday we ran the Leadville Trail 10k over a course that covers the first three miles of the Leadville Trail 100 mile run, and goes down a 400-foot steady drop over the course of 3.1 miles. At the halfway point you turn around and return to the start up the same hill. Again, we all ran relatively slow, and my pace was a little more than a minute slower than my usual 10k pace, but one member of our group took 4th overall, beating out many of the runners who are well accustomed to the altitude. The next day, Monday, we climbed Colorado’s highest peak, Mount Elbert. The climb covered 4.6 miles and rose an average 23% (and a maximal 50%) grade, over trail, piled rocks and scree, with no real switchback to soften the climb. We spent an hour at the summit, over 14 300 feet, eating cold pizza and granola bars. From the summit, we RAN back down to the cars to get a feel for running down from high elevation, with a severe grade and on a questionable surface.

On Tuesday, we drove up Mount Evans to get more time at high elevation. Mount Evans is another Colorado 14er and has the highest road accessible point in the country. We drove to avoid overexerting ourselves in the week before the marathon and to allow some recovery from the efforts the days before. Just below the summit, at about 13 000 feet, there is a lake (called, surprisingly, Summit Lake) with a few nice trails around it that we hiked. Of course, our hiking was limited by the growing pain in our quads and calves from that 4 mile downhill run the day before. On Wednesday, well rested, we climbed another 14er called Mount Democrat. Mount Democrat required climbing an average 23% grade, but this was mostly over small boulders and scree through a poorly marked trail; the 2 mile climb took almost as long as the 4 mile climb up Elbert. After an hour at the summit elevation, the icy wind and menacing dark clouds convinced us to head back down. Halfway down, we decided to call it a day rather than attempt the adjacent 14ers, Mounts Lincoln and Brosse. On Thursday we drove back up to Mount Evans to spend the entire afternoon at elevation. We sat atop the summit reading and relaxing for five hours through changing weather that brought sun and 60s at one moment and sleet and snow with a cold wind at another. Elevation training done to the best of our abilities, on Friday it was off to Colorado Springs to get ready.

Marathon weekend brings two events to Pikes Peak: the Ascent, a 13.32 mile race from Manitou Springs up the Barr Trail to the summit on Saturday; and the Marathon, a 26.2 mile round trip from Manitou up to a point just below the summit, then back down to town. Approximately 20% of the runners participate in both events, accomplishing a feat known as the Double. One member of our group, the same Diane who got me out here, signed up for the Double.  The rest of us tried to retain a small shred of sanity by running just the Marathon or the Ascent. Our plan was to arrive in Colorado Springs, pick up our packets, visit Garden of the Gods (an attraction comprised of beautiful red-rock boulders balanced at precarious angles, rising above a conifer forest, then grab dinner and get some sleep. The next morning, Diane was to awaken early and go to the Ascent, and we would drive up on the road that wraps around the Peak to meet her at the top. We registered and went to the small marathon expo at the center of Manitou Springs. There, we met a few other runners, including the publisher of the magazine Marathon and Beyond and, by sheer coincidence, one of the people who registered for the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon, a new tough and hilly marathon in Nashville that I have had the pleasure of organizing. After a quick dinner and a trip to Target to stock up on some last minute gatorade and dark chocolate M&Ms, we all went to bed. The night was punctuated by numerous intense storms with powerful lightning and earth-shaking thunder. The quantity and persistence of the rain was uncommon for Colorado Springs, and threatened to make the trail conditions tough for the Ascent, washing out deep ruts and pushing boulders into the way.  Diane woke up dutifully and took off on the Ascent. After a pancake breakfast, we hopped into the minivan and drove to the densely fog-enshrouded summit to meet her and breathe just a bit more 14 000 foot air.

Waiting for Diane at the top, we had the opportunity to see many of the Ascenteurs finish and talk to them about the nature of the trail, the weather and the effort. We learned that, for the Ascent, the dense clouds kept the course cool and that the rains of the night before did not wreak too much havoc on the trail itself. While there were a few wet or washed out areas of the trail, it was mostly intact. At the summit, the bright yellow finish line banner was obscured by the fog; one could barely see it from just a few yards away. As each runner crested the final switchback, an announcer would call out their name and hometown. Because of the fog, this was nearly the only way to know who was finishing. But runners finished and emerged from the fog to begin their recovery. The top finishing times for the Ascent was 2:18 for men, 2:46 for women. Diane’s plan was to finish much later to ensure that she had enough energy to complete the Double the next day. So we sat near the finish line in the icy and foggy cold, enjoying the excitement and watching everybody finish.  We occasionally went into the Summit House to warm up and eat. And yes, while there I did enjoy the fudge, hot cocoa and the “World Famous Donuts” in the Summit House. The thin air, you see, makes the donuts puffy, crispy and greasy. Yum!

Sitting atop the summit, we also recognized the significant changes that had occurred over the week in our physiologic responses to the high altitude. When we arrived, even walking at an elevation of 10 000 feet above sea level would cause our hearts to race and our heads to spin.  Atop Pikes Peak waiting for Diane, we found that we were much more comfortable. Seven days before, in Leadville, my resting pulse was in the low 90s and around 110 while walking, compared to my pulse in Nashville, where it is usually 56-58. Sitting the day of the Ascent atop the Pikes Peak summit, 4000 feet higher than Leadville and over 2 1/2 miles higher than Nashville, my pulse was just 80. And I felt comfortable walking around, was not lightheaded and could think fairly clearly. I had made definite progress against the effects of altitude, our week in the mountains seemed to have helped. The diminished effects of high altitude combined with the relatively fresh appearance of Ascenteurs finishing in about the time I expected to summit the next day reassured me.

Well, Diane finished feeling strong. We drove down the mountain to get some food and some rest before the big run.

***

Purple Mountain’s Majesty –

Marathon morning began with our hotel wake up call at 4:45 AM. The weather forecast was calling for partly cloudy skies with a temperature in the 60s at the starting line, 30s at the summit and 70s at the finish. With the fog and rain the day before, marathon morning was offering beautiful mountain weather. We collected the items we would need for the run, including fluids, energy gels, sunscreen and sunglasses. A quick bite at Denny’s, and we were off to the starting line. The sun began to rise as we drove to Manitou Springs, lighting the top of Pikes Peak in a brilliant orange glow. Beneath the peak, there were a few wispy clouds that had settled into the alpine valleys just below treeline. The deep blue sky framed the orange peak, the silvery clouds and the dark green forests as the scene dominated the western horizon ahead of us as we approached the marathon. Once there, we joined the crowd of runners, all lining up for pictures with the mountain in the background and the starting line banner in the foreground. I bumped into a couple of runners I knew and we too posed for pictures in the crisp morning air. We were just a few moments before the starting time, and we felt the excitement rising.

The Pikes Peak Marathon starts and finishes in the town of Manitou Springs, just outside of Colorado Springs. The course climbs from town up to the Barr Trail. The Barr Trail is an approximate 12-mile path that winds its way from the base of the mountain, up over Mount Manitou and then up Pikes Peak to the summit. The trail includes over 250 switchbacks, large boulders and roots, scree fields, dense forests, streams, mountain and valley views, vast boulder-strewn expanses above treeline, and several structures built at different times during Pikes Peak’s recent history. Many of these landmarks serve to mark the runner or climber’s progress up the trail towards the summit. While there are also mile and elevation markers, marking progress by miles is fraught with problems. Running up the Barr Trail, with its changing grade, terrain, available oxygen and topography forces the runner substantially to vary pace at different places. The effort required to run the first mile at a given pace is very different from the effort required to run the twelfth mile at the same pace. Carpenter’s advice is to determine a goal time to the summit and then use race statistics from over the years to determine approximately how long it would take to reach certain landmarks. To help with this, his website offers a calculator which estimates landmark-based intervals. Using the calculator, the time to reach the landmark known as Barr Camp, a structure about halfway into the run and 10 000 feet above sea level would take 50.8% of the ascent, or just over two hours for a four-hour ascent. Armed with the expected times to the various landmarks along the way up, the runner should be able to adjust their pace so as not to run too fast or too slow.

The approach to the Pikes Peak summit includes several other landmarks indicating how far you have gone in terms of a percentage of the total effort to reach the top. Estimating when you should pass each landmark requires that you have an idea how long it would take to get to the turnaround point at the top, 13.32 miles into the run. Having never run the Pikes Peak Marathon, I did not know the appropriate time it would take me to reach the summit given my abilities. The common rule of thumb is that, for flatlanders like me, getting to the summit takes your best recent marathon time plus 30 minutes. For example, if you can comfortably run a four-hour standard marathon and you have adequately trained for Pikes Peak, you should be able to reach the halfway point near the summit in about four hours thirty minutes. Getting back down to the finish line requires another 60% of the summit ascent time. I had completed my last fastest marathon in 3:50, which would predict 4:20 to the summit and a little over 7:00 to complete the marathon according to Carpenter’s calculator. Given that the average male finisher time over the past few years was 7:06, I decided to shoot for a finish time of 7:00 or less. To achieve a 7:00 marathon, and assuming that I would follow the split schedule as predicted, I would need to summit by 4:18. No problem, right? So I wrote down a pacing chart that included the major landmarks along the way, and the times I should reach them if I were to run a 7:00 marathon. I also wrote down the times for a 6:30 marathon, just for kicks.

Given that the thin mountain air would become even more sparse as I climbed the mountain, I elected to use my heart rate to help guide my marathon effort. This would supplement other information I had while running, including my general sense of wellbeing, the strength I perceived in my legs, my thirst and my hunger. I planned to maintain a heart rate between 155-165, which should represent a sustainable effort. In addition, given the tough incline that I would have to climb, my heart rate would serve as a guide for when I could speed up and, more importantly, when I needed to slow down or walk. However, I also knew that the altitude and thin air could cause my heart rate to climb higher or, weaken my effort to the point where my heart rate would drop lower. My monitor included GPS capabilities, so it would help me gauge distance covered and elevation above sea level. These data would be equally useful to help me monitor progress both in terms of linear distance and climb up the mountain. I could use the information to check off every altitude landmark as I ascended from 6300 feet to 14 050 feet, and again as I descended.

The race started in the heart of scenic Manitou Springs. There, with a couple of minutes to go before the start, the race director made the usual announcements to inspire us and make sure we understood the rules of the road.  Then, a choir of school children sang “America the Beautiful”, which was inspired by Pikes Peak itself, and was written after the song’s author, Katharine Lee Bates, visited there in 1893. The singing before any race can evoke an emotional response, but standing there with the Pikes Peak summit in sight on a beautiful and cool Colorado morning after months of preparation and angst, I became choked up. My sunglasses hid tears of joy, excitement and nerves as the children sang and the crowd grew silent, just seconds before the starting gun. And then, “on your mark, get set, go”, a gun shot into the air, and we were off.

***

Oxygen is Overrated –

The first section of the Pikes Peak Marathon course goes through the center of Manitou Springs, along Manitou Avenue and among hundreds of cheering spectators, then veers left up to Ruxton Street and Hydro Street as it makes its way up to the trail. On the side of the road, Trish, who ran the Ascent and who is the wife of one of the runners in our group, was cheering us all on and calling out our names as we went by. Another spectator was blasting the tune from Chariots of Fire (a movie more about fast short distance running, but no matter, it is always inspirational). While running, the field thinned just a bit, and many people quickly passed me. I had been warned to take it easy and let folks pass; either they had the ability to maintain their pace, or they would quickly burn out on the long road ahead. The morning remained cool as we progressed up the hill towards the Barr Trail. My times to the first two landmarks were ahead of schedule: 4:37 minutes:seconds to Ruxton versus 5:17 for a 6 hour 30 minute run, or 5:41 for a 7 hour run (herinafter listed as actual time/6:30 finish predicted split/7:00 predicted split, or 4:37/5:17/5:41 for Ruxton, then 14/15/16 for Hydro Street). I was ahead of schedule, and felt good and light. My heart rate was right at 160, I felt air in my lungs, my thinking was clear and my legs felt pretty limber. A good start, and I hoped it was sustainable.

Shortly after passing the Cog Railway, a railroad that carries tourists up and down from the Pikes Peak summit, we turned right and entered the trail. The trail begins with a series of thirteen switchbacks, known as “The Ws” because of their appearance as stacked Ws on a map. There is one aid station at the bottom, and another just below the top of the Ws. The trail itself is made up of a narrow, single track path with rocks, roots and steep sides that all together make passing prohibitive. The term single track means that the trail is wide enough for a single runner only, and at times the designation seemed to have been an exaggeration, so narrow is the Barr Trail. Much of the trail on this section is also steep as it traverses through a dense conifer forest, still misty with the morning humidity. On this section, many of the runners were vying for position, passing each other when they could barely squeeze by. I passed a few people in this section, and other runners passed me. At the top of the Ws, after taking some Gatorade Endurance Formula and some grapes at the aid station, I found myself even more ahead of schedule, 43/48/52. At this point, I did not feel quite as strong from the recent climb, but my heart rate remained in my target zone and my thinking remained clear. So on I went.

The next portion of the route winds through the woods and includes a few small climbs, switchbacks and flat sections. In this part of the marathon it is fairly easy to establish a running rhythm and simply to float on through. The hills often required fast walking to climb, but the flats really allowed some smooth running. During this part of the run you get your first glimpse of Pikes Peak. In the hour that had passed since the start of the run, the Peak had become even more spectacular. At this point, it filled the view, framed by the dense green forest and the large granite boulders jutting out above the trees. Some wispy clouds remained in the valleys above and below, and the sun was at just the right angle to illuminate the entire scene. As we ran through the hills below Mount Manitou, in the foothills of Pikes Peak, the views were continually breathtaking. I almost stopped on several occasions to dig out my camera and take pictures, always a great temptation for me, but I was still feeling good and wanted to press on. Shortly after ducking under a natural granite stone arch and climbing another hill, I reached the next landmark, the No Name Creek and aid station: 1:05/1:10/1:15 hours:minutes. I was still ahead of schedule, my heart rate still in zone, and I felt reasonably good. I drank some fluids, ate some grapes and energy gel, and then moved on.

Above No Name Creek, the trail climbs higher through more woods and includes a traverse over to Pikes Peak proper. This section ends at the Barr Camp, an old lodge on the mountain.  According to the calculated splits, runners should reach Barr Camp in just over 50% of their total ascent time. As before, this section mostly winds through the forest, over generally well-kept trails of dirt and gravel, with occasional tree roots and clusters of small to medium sized granite rocks. The technical quality of the trail and the climbing grade forces the runner to pay attention with every step. There are occasional views of the mountain above in the clear open sky, and the city below, now mostly enshrouded in low-lying clouds. At this point, the running field had thinned considerably, and you could see only a handful of runners ahead and behind you. Passing runners was fairly uncommon at this point, although it did occur at the aid stations along the way. As I climbed higher, I began to notice that my legs felt heavier and heavier and that I began to feel weaker. I was not lightheaded. I was not nauseous. I was not dizzy. Mostly I just felt tired and a bit sluggish.  I remained ahead of schedule, but by a shrinking margin: 1:30/1:35/1:42 to the sign that says 7.8 miles to the summit, and then 2:00/2:01/2:11 to Barr Camp. My heart rate had begun to drift lower at this point, and now mostly rested in the high 150s, suggesting that my actual effort was dropping while my perceived effort was increasing. But I pressed on. Just past Barr Camp was the seven mile marker, and my elevation was just over 10 000 feet. I was more than halfway to the top, and still moving forward

The trip from Barr Camp to the treeline is the trail section where most runners really feel the air thin, the elevation climb, their legs slow and their heads spin. There are numerous switchbacks, steepening climbs, and more obstacles on the trail. The trees remain dense, but the clearings come more frequently, the pines become more stunted and scrubby, and large orange-red and white flecked Amanita Muscaria mushrooms are everywhere along the forest floor. Here, those marathoners who are still running finally begin to walk, and the rest of the field begins to walk more slowly and with more attention to pushing each foot ahead.  Step by step.  The trees begin to thin and the bright sun becomes more intense. From here, hydration, sun protection and determination all become more important. I continued to push forward, but by this point my legs had begun to feel notably heavier, while my heart rate remained in the mid to high 150s. The elevation gauge on my GPS device kept climbing, which was a reassuring sign. But the work was beginning to get hard, and I began to feel the first thoughts of despair:  What am I doing? Can I finish this?  As I approached the treeline, marked by an A Frame cabin and another aid station the leader, Matt Carpenter, came flying back downward towards his finish. He appeared as something between a gazelle and a sparrow. And then he was gone and my climb continued. I made it to the A Frame somewhat slowed, but still ahead of my schedule: 2:55/2:50/3:03. The A Frame is at an elevation of about 12 000 feet above sea level, and just below the spot where the trees gave way to the tundra and open boulder fields that continued all the way to the summit. I stopped, took some deep breaths, a few cups of fluid, some energy gel, some Jelly Bellies (yum!) and some grapes. After a minute or two I felt a bit refreshed, and took off to complete the last three miles of the upward climb. Past an old burnt forest marked by barren weathered tree trunks interspersed with scraggly pines, and I was above the treeline.  By definition, trees do not grow in the conditions above treeline.  My wife has commented that there must be a lesson in this fact.

The rules change above treeline. That’s the general dogma for climbing or running up mountains. In this case, that means all the pace plans go away and any forward motion towards the summit is good. Climbing the remaining 2000 feet of elevation in over three miles to complete the climb up the Barr Trail generally takes the ascenteur far more time and effort than anything that came before. Add to that steep switchbacks which do little to flatten the climb, closely placed boulders that you must slow to climb over and substantially thinned air, and there was no good way to predict how long this section would take. Even the fastest runners struggle here, and nearly all of them walk or crawl. According to my schedule, it should take between 65 and 85 minutes to finish the climb. Along the way I would pass three major landmarks, each one attesting to my progress across the otherwise featureless rock field: the 2 miles to summit sign, the Cirque–a scenic view from a 1400 foot dropoff to the valley below–and the 16 Golden Stairs, a set of 16 switchback pairs just below the turnaround point. While these points indicate progress towards the summit, they also point out the runner’s ever-slowing pace.

On this morning above treeline there were large patches of fresh snow covering and surrounding the route, as well as snowmelt turning many trail sections into small streams. The air was cold, about 36 degrees according to the signs on the way up. A strong wind blew across the boulder field that made up our route, sometimes to our backs and sometimes to our fronts, as we zigzagged up the switchbacks. Looking forward I could see the summit, still appearing far away and high above, but now with a visible stream of marathoners winding up from where I was enduring my own struggle. Occasionally somebody ahead would call out, “runner” as one or more of the faster marathoners would come craning down the path, headed back to oxygen, the trees and the finish line. In the meantime, I was part of the slow march upwards. By this point, my heart rate was bouncing between 147 and 153, my legs were heavy as lead, and my head occasionally spun with exertion. I felt forced to take occasional breaks just to regain my focus and breath. At one of these a woman stopped, looked into my eyes and asked me if I was okay, and then did not seem to believe my reassurances that I was. But she eventually moved on and soon I too pushed forward.  In most marathons, the runner begins to encounter a feeling of despair and doubt around mile 18 or 20, wondering just what they are doing running such a distance. During the Pikes Peak Marathon, I experienced this doubt around mile 11. But I had to push on and up. Slowly on and up I went.  I made it to the 2 miles to summit sign still ahead of schedule, but just barely: 3:20/3:14/3:29. And then up past Cirque. And then up past a few switchbacks. At 3:50, two friends who were also running the marathon passed me on the way back down to the finish, both focused on the route and both appearing happy to be headed towards the air.

Soon it would be my turn to head down as well. I continued to traverse the steep stone fields. I passed more landmarks.  One mile to go. Then the Golden Stairs. I counted them off, some switchbacks short, some long. I counted them, one, two, three, four, and so on. The rocks were slippery. Each switchback required a big effort to climb. I occasionally had to use my energy to move aside for a downhill runner. There was no air. My heart rate was dropping even lower, as my perceived effort continued to climb. But as I got closer to the summit there were people yelling and clapping and shouting encouragement. These were spectators who had driven up or taken the Cog Railway to witness the turnaround. Trish, who cheered us far below and long ago, was at the top again calling out my name and holding up a sign. Fifteen switchbacks, sixteen, seventeen. I could see the turnaround sign, hear the music, feel the top. Twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight. And then, I was there. I reached the summit, took a few breaths of air, some fluids and grapes and looked down at the mountain. I made it right behind my goal time: 4:19/4:00/4:18. But that was fine; I hoped to make up that minute on the downhill. And so after one last look around, downward I went.

On the way down, within a few steps, runners suddenly can breathe, feel the strength return to their legs, and notice their heads clear. My experience was no different. I was barely below the Golden Steps and I felt like I was running a new race, albeit on tired legs. Now it was my turn to have the right of way; all the marathoners coming up moved to the side to allow me to come down. In my renewed excitement, I plummeted downward with near-wild abandon.  Several other runners tentatively heading downward made room for me to pass as I flew by. I saw several friends headed upwards and I passed along the same encouragement I had received from downhill runners as I headed up. I was so excited to be moving that I stopped only briefly at the first few aid stations for fluids.  And while some of the switchbacks and boulders required that I slow down, for the most part I found that I could run smoothly and consistently. My pace improved from approximately 15 minutes per mile on the more technical sections up high, to 12 minutes per mile as I passed below treeline, and then to 10ish minutes per mile below Barr Camp where oxygen awaited me. The trip down was great fun as I dodged the rocks, roots and ruts in the trail, passed numerous runners and vied for position with others, stopping occasionally to grab fluids and candy at the lower aid stations. There were a few small uphill sections that felt great on the way up the mountain, but were difficult on the way down; many of these we walked. The trail wound its way down all the switchbacks we had previously climbed, through dense forests and among light clearings, with occasional mountain and valley views to distract from the mounting fatigue. On the way down, I saw a few runners who had fallen while running at speed on the trail; many had gotten injured. One was covered in blood and bandages after receiving stitches for her injuries.

Heading downward, the time flew. I passed each mile marker, keeping a close eye on my watch and pace to make sure that I would reach my goal time of seven hours. At treeline, with ten miles to go, I had been running about a fifteen minute pace and had two hours remaining. I would not make it. Three miles later, at Barr Camp, I had seven miles and an hour and twenty minutes left, and was running at an increasing pace. I might make it. The further down I went and the more my pace increased, the more confidence I had that I would make it. In the last few miles, however, another factor emerged; it was becoming fairly hot and humid. I knew that I was sweating and losing fluids and salts. I stopped to drink more at every aid station, but my increasing pace made it hard to digest the fluids comfortably. I found myself in a tough place; as I descended, I began to cramp from the drinking, and began to feel a little weak from not drinking enough. I was close to the finish and ultimately decided that it was best just to push on. Fortunately, the aid stations were placed regularly enough that I could take small amounts of fluids frequently and keep an even pace. And I found the descent portion the easiest second half of a marathon I have ever run.

And so on I went, headed to the finish and hoping for a sub-goal time.  Down past Barr Camp. Down across the traverse to Mount Manitou, then onto Mount Manitou and No Name Creek. I kept a close eye on my altimeter: 11 000 feet elevation, then 10 000, then 9000. Down through the granite natural arch. Down several switchbacks and some significant steep drops that I did not really remember from the climb. Down to 8000 feet. Then 7000 feet. Three miles to go, then two. Then the Ws, counting them down. At the bottom of the Ws, somebody was again playing Chariots of Fire. Then, immediately past this, one mile to go, and again I became choked up. And then asphalt. And then cones to guide us. And then a steep downhill. And then turn the corner to Ruxton Avenue. And then the crowds started to appear with kids waving for high fives. And again, Trish calling out my name and holding up a sign.  Excited to be nearly done, I threw my Camelback to Trish so I would not have it in the finish line photo. And then down through the enclosing crowds and swelling cheers.  There is my name and hometown being announced. And then around the corner, the finish line. And I was done. 6:48:17. Ahead of schedule and happy as can be.

– Trent Rosenbloom (2006)

Here is the finisher’s medal from the 2012 Wild Horse Half Marathon that took place on January 29, 2012 in Chula Vista, California.

Simple yet nice medal and a lot of swag for a half marathon (see below).

MORE PHOTOS OF MARATHON/ULTRA MEDALS AND BUCKLES

 

You can read Lisa’s Wild Horse Half Marathon Race Report by clicking HERE!

[medal photos submitted by Lisa Gonzales. Follow her on Twitter @runlikeacoyote]

As we covered the Javelina Jundred 100 mile ultramarathon Saturday night we quickly realized that Hal Koerner had set a course record of 13:47:46.  Shortly after Hal’s finish, Liz Howard totally destroyed and crushed the previous female course record of 17:11:32 (Jamie Donaldson) with a finishing time of 15:47:00.

She has now put her historic race into a race report on her blog.  In it she details her 101.4 mile journey in the 1st installment (read HERE) and her ER visit and hospital stay in the 2nd installment (read HERE).

Here is a quick tidbit from the 2nd installment of Liza’s race report:

I made it to a lovely private room and spent the next ten minutes trying to convince another tech that I should be fed.

“But I ran 100 miles and I’m REALLY hungry.  Actually it was 101.4 miles.  And  I’ve only had a couple of handfuls of Garden Herb Triskets since I finished six hours ago.”

“The kitchen doesn’t open for two more hours.”

I didn’t strangle the tech because my legs weren’t really serviceable anymore and it would have been too difficult with the urinary catheter they’d inserted anyway.

Read more at: Liza Howard’s Javelina Jundred Race Report (Part 1) and (Part 2)

Javelina Jundred 100 Mile Buckle

Related: Hal Koerner Crushes Javelina Jundred 100 Miler Course Record (Results)

Some adventures transform a man. The sleepless nights, the euphoric feelings, the few silent minutes spent in contemplation, the conscious decision made to suffer through the heat, day and night on the endless road, recover and regain the strength, push forward only to sink deeper at the end of the day, the struggle to stay awake and do it over and over, hoping to get to the rock. Run, walk, eat and sleep – This is the story of my journey called The Last Annual Vol State Road Race 500K.

“The Last Annual” part is a joke. The race has been taking place since 1981. There’s no formal organization, no website, no registration fee, nothing. It’s a race for a bunch of people who likes to run real long distance. All the way from Dorena Landing, MO to Castle Rock, GA. 314 miles, 500K.

Like Laz mentioned once “You would not believe how alone you are on the side of the road. All of those people who pass by a few feet away are in another world. They’re in their little air conditioned metal box, but when you get done, you can remember every step of the road.”

Days before the Vol State:

I kept quiet on the Vol State list. Though I got my name enlisted as solo, unsupported, I didn’t make it official. These days, nothing’s official unless it’s facebook official. I thought about it several times. I can still pull back my entry, it’s a tough race, I don’t need to go through this, I’ll just show up as a volunteer and crew some of my friends but finally I had to shake off such odd thoughts and made it official on FB. This was the biggest step for me pre Vol State.

Next big question, what shoes am I going to wear? I have never run in shoes, besides my first two marathons. I have either run in VFF or would go barefoot. I picked up a few good pair from REI and felt miserable running in those and promptly returned them. I decided to take my VFF (Trek Sports) for a test ride on Vol State course on a hot day. Ran/Walked 22 miles and felt pretty comfortable and decided to stick with them. Also picked up a camel backpack and tightened all the cords and told myself that anything that would fit in it, I would take it. I wanted to keep it as minimal as possible, no space for anything that I MIGHT need during the race.

Besides planning for logistics, vacation, travel and other stuff, it was fear and anxiety that took over me. A week before the race, Vol State is all I could think of all the time. It got so frustrating and made me restless to the point that I just wanted to get on that damn ferry. I wrote to a couple of runners who have finished Vol State in the past asking for suggestions and advice. Everyone responded but four of the replies were so good that I took a print out of it and carried it with me during the race.

Here’s the excerpt of some of the conversation:

• It is very hard Naresh; I would say the volstate is harder than a Barkley fun run….because it is SO far!!! The volstate requires toughness, but even more important is PATIENCE. There is no doubt in my mind that you can finish, but do not underestimate the need for patience. It is very far! – Carl Laniak

• I don’t know if you’d consider running with your mouth closed, but I thought that helped regulate my effort and the core temperature – Matt Kirk

• Nothing will prepare u for Vol State. No packs advise no strategy from other runners, no amount of heat training. By the end of the second day, crewed or solo, we will all feel like cow dung. Experience will help. But nobody can give you that. Permission is huge! Are you permitting yourself everything it takes? I’m serious when I say this: a fast walker can do this in ten days. Burn the ships. Destroy any possibility of an easy out. Divorce yourself from the world. Resign yourself to the fact that the start is in MO and the finish is on Sand Mountain. This is your job for the next 4-10 days. Accept it. It’s not easy, and it only gets harder. Exponentially harder in the last 30 miles. But, when the castle rock gate comes into view, and you realize you are only one mile from the rock, you will know that you have done an amazing thing. And it will have been worth it. – Mike O’Melia

• Don’t worry about staying on the road for 10 days, you will be back to Nashville the following Monday after the race start – Laz

I was so pissed off with Laz’s comment and I told myself that even if I had to drop out, I’ll ensure to not drop out on Monday.

I was thinking much about the movie “The Way Back”, story about four men escaping from Siberian Gulag and their 4000 mile long trek for freedom. They face freezing nights, lack of food and water, mosquitoes, an endless desert, the Himalayas. At one point after reaching the great Himalayas someone questions about how they are going to get past the mountains and the guy replies “We walk”. That got stuck in my head. We Walk. To keep pushing forward. After all I at least have access to stores and civilization unlike these men who didn’t have anything.

Laz send another update few days before picking up the crewless runners from the rock to the start line:

humidity so high you can cut the air into blocks.

sun so cruel it sears exposed flesh.

they have heat advisories in effect.

people are supposed to minimize their time outside…

tomorrow we go pick up the crewless runners at the rock.

god help them.

if people hadn’t done it before,

i would say it couldn’t be done.

Charity : Water : Joshua mentioned in his blog, after he made it official about his Vol State, that if an individual attempts to do something that could result in death then one should raise money for a cause in that process to help the less fortunate. That stuck in my head. I asked him whether I can join hands with him in his campaign and he accepted gladly. Though I wanted to run this race for myself, I had another good reason to motivate myself and finish this race. Being born and brought up in India and having lived in a less fortunate place, I remember what a great deal it was to get clean drinking water. I decided to contribute a dollar for every mile as my contribution. Every mile counts and every mile would help realize building a well somewhere that would provide clean drinking water (Thanks Joshua for letting me part of your campaign).

Limerick Taxi Service:

Two fares named Naresh and Fred

Got in and were so full of dread,

That all the way through

“What’d I get myself into?”

Is what the both of them said. –Troubadour

That was Rich’s poem for us and he goes by the name ‘Troubadour’ in the Ultralist. He offered a ride for me and Fred Davis for The Last Supper. Meeting Fred prior to the race was such a blessing. He had finished Vol State several times and his maps and notes were of such great help during the race. Everything just fell in place. Out of office, back pack, pepper spray, maps, I checked the items one after the other before jumping into the car. When I couldn’t get my hands on an Indian flag, I drew one myself on my race shirt. Rich was at my door. My “This is it” moment. Divorce from the world. I had a little cultural exchange with Rich and Beth during our ride and I had the chance to see their jaws drop when I started talking about “Arranged marriages in India”. We talked about a lot more stuff but I was not present in the ‘present’. We were driving through a part of the race course and Rich told tell me that I would have made it till there by day two, hopefully!!

The night before I left Nashville, I went on Facebook and un-friended my parents, sister and couple of friends who might possibly update my parents about my race. I still remember how mad, yet proud, they were when I told them about my first 100 mile finish. This time its three times longer and getting them worried about my adventure is the last thing I wanted. (Mom, Dad, Sis and friends – If you are reading this, I am sorry)

The Last Supper:

A ritual where all Vol State Runners, crew, volunteers, family and friends meet at Ryan’s steakhouse in Union City, TN the day before the Vol State. I heard so much about The Last Supper but I am here finally and things started getting real. I met all the runners and their family members. Ultra legends Dirt, Laz and Marv collectively had over 100 years of Ultra running experience.

I thought I was the baby in the group but Erika beat me on that. I had couple of email conversation with Lynn, Ericka’s mom and an awesome runner, but meeting the mother daughter duo running the Vol State was such a pleasure. Finally, my friend Joshua showed up with his crew. Josh and I had several hours of conversation through email and chat prior to the race. Both of us were equally anxious and scared. Soon, we all retired for the night. I couldn’t go to sleep. I met Lyn, Erika and Sherry in their room and we had a blast talking about our races and other stuff.

For some reason, too much of anxiety kept from going to sleep. It didn’t work out no matter how hard I tried. I might have slept for an hour or two. Morning arrived sooner than I expected, 5:30AM, packed my bags, filled it up with water and jumped into Shannon’s yellow bus. I took a ride with Diane, my running friend who introduced me to the ultra world, and John Price who is a legend by himself. He recently ran across USA self supported and he also ran the Vol State double last year. We stopped at a couple of spot en route to click pictures and headed straight to the Dorena Landing, MO where our Ferry was waiting for us.

Ferry ride was just the beginning:

Things started becoming more REAL for me. Things that I have read and heard about are happening to me. Last year I signed up for Vol State but had to pull back due to family emergency. Last Supper, Ferry Ride, Bench of Despair and the Rock were some of the notable things and two of it has already happened. The Ferry took us across Mississippi river to Dorena Landing, MO.

We got out of the ferry, lined up at the start line and before we knew it, Laz lit his cigarette. Clock started ticking. Race is ON. We ran towards the ferry. Wish I could put it in much better words to explain the joy of the moment, but one has to be there to experience this.

The ferry ride back to Kentucky was silent, at least for me. The longest 10 minutes of my life. Fear was creeping through  my spine; I disassociated myself to a corner of the ferry and was gazing at the water contemplating for the next few minutes. This race is something I never thought I would do. I had a humble beginning to the Ultra world and after 16 months of Ultras, here I am running the Vol State 500K. I had all sorts of questions and doubts but before I knew it the ferry landed on shore, I shook it off and took off with the rest of the runners.

First step into a sea of Uncertainty:

The road wading through Hickman, KY towards Union City, TN. We took the wrong road within the first 3 miles of running but thank God, John price hollered and put us back on track. The day was starting to get hot, field was getting scattered but Josh and I were still running together. I stepped inside a bank on my way to refill my handheld bottle. Before we knew it, we made it to Union City, about 18 miles into the race.

Made a quick stop at a Subway and I ate a tuna sandwich and lots of Coke. Josh and I soon caught up with Don Winkley, another Ultra Legend, and his crew Donald. Laz and Carl were standing under the bridge at Mile 20. “This is your worst 20 mile time, isn’t it” and I nodded, “yes indeed”. It took over 5 hours to run 20 miles. I had no goal for day 1 except that I talked myself into running at least 40 miles every day. I ran a bit with Don Winkley, another Ultra legend, who eventually won the race this year. While I was out of water and ice again, I stepped into an outdoor store and the lady was kind enough to give me some ice and let me use the faucet to refill my backpack. That refill took me all the way to Martin, TN (Mile 29)

Made another quick stop at a McD and drank a large banana smoothie. I checked my feet and noticed that the duct tape has slipped over but it wasn’t all that bad. Refilled my pack again and headed out. Josh resupplied his stock and we took off. We noticed a church sign that said “The Most Effective Daily Exercise – Walking with God”, right message at the right time.

It was a long stretch to Dresden and the day was getting hotter. The road almost appeared like an interstate with wide shoulders. Josh’s crew would pass me every now and then. I finally noticed the sign board “Dresden – A great place to live”. I was sitting under a tree for a bit and Josh’s crew hollered at me and asked me not to move, there was a dog charging towards me. I was feeling cold all of a sudden, my first encounter with dog during Vol State. He barked a bit, circled around me and left. Thank God. It was mile 40 and my feet were killing me. I just wanted to rest somewhere. There was a motel about 3 ¼ of a mile off the course and at that point I was ready to go that extra mile for some good rest.

I picked up gallon chocolate milk and a sub on my way and got in my room. The motel owner, an Indian family from Gujarat, offered me a great discount and one of the best rooms. Felt really proud for having that India flag on my shirt. It unites every one of us no matter where we are. Took a cold shower and tried to rest but couldn’t go to sleep and was just lying on my bed. Iced my feet and kept it elevated, meanwhile I munched on some chips and sandwich and flushed it down with chocolate milk. When I realized that sleep is not my best friend that night, I decided to head back out. It was 12:30am. Before heading out I spread all the items from my backpack on the bed and decided to dump everything that I never touched for the day except for pepper spray. I woke up Josh and he asked me to get going and that he would start an hr later. I backtracked from the motel and rejoined the course. It was crisscross from there and if not for the directions painted on the road, I would be surely lost. It was funny that 500K direction was marked right next to a 5K race route. I am sure the 5K runners must be wondering who would run 500K and might even think it’s a prank.

It was a long night. The Old Route 22 which would take me to Gleason was so dark and lonely. I had a doubt at times whether I am on track. A cop passed me at around 2am and when they turned around, I was sure they were going to check on me. They were very friendly, I told them about the race and they asked me to be careful and went their way. Finally made it to Gleason (Mile 48) and after going through the town, it was Old 22 once again. Before heading out I checked my feet and it was a nasty sight. There were blisters everywhere. The skin started reacting to the adhesive tape. I should have left the duct tape intact before leaving Dresden, instead I thought I’ll tape my feet with the JnJ adhesive tape. A very costly mistake and I paid for it heavily. I removed the tape, cleared the blisters and applied some of the advanced blister band-aid and wore my Injinji socks. It was pitch dark and the road was wading through some corn fields. Soon, Josh’s crew passed me. It was the first sign of traffic after a long time. Blake told me that Josh is about 3 miles behind me. As I kept going I saw a flash light coming towards me. After about couple of minutes I noticed that it was Fred Davis. Apparently, he never rested and he turned around somewhere and was heading in the wrong direction. Not sure how far he went in the wrong direction but he turned around and we spoke a bit and I took off. It looks like he made the same mistake last year too but he is one strong runner who never rests.

Soon, the sun was out and a couple of very friendly dogs kept me company as I headed into McKenzie. I made a call at 6 in the morning to let Carl know my position. McKenzie, Mile 57. I stopped at a small local country café shop and had bacon and eggs and biscuits with lots of coffee. The waitress was very nice and I was soon joined by couple of local regulars and it was story time. I really enjoyed sharing my experiences and getting to meet new people on the road. Even as I was packing my bags to leave, I saw Fred stopping for breakfast at the same café. It felt good for having covered 57 miles on Day 1. Except for the blisters, I was feeling really good and goal was to get to Huntingdon by noon.

At this pace, you can win the race:

I was on Old 22 once again. It was a long and quiet a hilly stretch. By now, I could smell a road kill from miles away and I was getting better at judging what it would be. This section had a huge rattle snake with its jaws wide open and it was smelling nasty. Later on I smelled a raccoon and my guess was right. Soon, I smelled evilness, and there was Laz. Carl and Laz were driving around and they stopped by. “Hey man, you are doing well, in fact you might even win this race”, Carl hollered.

I spoke with Laz and Carl and told them about Fred. They laughed. Carl told me that Sherry and Sal is in Huntingdon and resting for the day. Josh rested a bit at McKenzie and when I called him he was about 4 miles behind. I was feeling tired but not sleepy though. I kept pushing my way and after passing the courthouse, I stopped briefly at a small breakfast inn and got myself a cheese burger. While it was getting made, I spoke to the locals and it was story time. There were people of all kinds, motor bikers, construction workers, truck drivers, students, etc. After sharing my quest, I was pleasantly surprised when the lady handed over my burger and told me that it’s on the house. First act of kindness, my first free meal during the race. They asked me to keep my eyes open for Holly bobo, a girl who got abducted from her house and is still missing.

I made it to Huntingdon, had my cheese burger, took cold shower and tried to sleep but the attempt went in vain. Cleaned up my blisters which were getting worse. Treated it with lots of peroxide and let it dry before applying fresh band-aids. 3 hrs went by with little sleep. Soon, Joshua joined me. His crew was equally tired. I stepped out for a bit and met Sal and Sherry. Sal was just heading out while Sherry wanted to catch some more rest. When I couldn’t get any more sleep, I decided to hit the road leaving Josh and his crew back at the motel.

It was pouring cats and dogs and by the time I filled my backpack, the rain subsided. Though the sun wasn’t out, it was humid and the air was dry. Breathing was getting very difficult. A gentleman who was mowing his front yard asked me where I am going and when I told him that I am going to Lexington, his jaws dropped. He waved at me to get in his truck and when I told him that it’s a race, he just stared for a moment and continued with his mowing business. He must be thinking, “What an idiot”, but it was very nice of him for offering me a 25 mile ride.

I saw a familiar face on my way to Lexington, it was my dear friend John Spencer. He was biking on the course. Meeting a familiar face during Vol State is the best thing to happen. We chatted a bit and he told me that he met couple more runners ahead of me. Must be Sal and Sherry, I thought. While he took off to meet other runners, I caught up with Sherry on my way. I gulped another bottle of chocolate milk and Sherry and I headed out together. Our next stop was at Parker’s crossroads. We made a quick stop at McD. I had an apple pie and a large smoothie as it was getting difficult to keep anything solid down. As we were passing through the interstate intersection, the sign board was showing “Nashville”, I read it as “Heaven” until Sherry hollered me and I realized that I am en route to hell :).

Sherry is such an awesome runner. Listening to her ultra running stories and experiences made me realize what a strong willed woman she must be. I first met her at Oak Mountain 50K in Alabama in 2010. She left me to dust at the last uphill climb. While I was struggling to even walk that hill, she ran the hills and put me to shame. I was so looking forward to meet her and time permitted me to run a bit with her. Made another quick stop at a convenient store and drank a bottle of Starbucks cold coffee. The store was owned by an Indian guy and he hollered “Jai Hind” when I was leaving the store and wished me luck.

Lexington came in sight pretty soon but fatigue was setting in. It’s been close to two days and I had very little sleep. We sat at a gas store. I gulped a bottle of coke and took care of my blisters. Fred Murolo caught us at the gas station and he retired for the night at a motel close by while Sherry and I decided to get to Parsons by morning.

First Low Point:

After a few hours of running/walking, fatigue got too bad that taking even one step was getting very difficult. I decided to crash on the side of the road for a while. Sherry wanted to rest too. We found a spot on the side of the road and rested for a bit. I napped a good half hour. I just wanted to lay down for a few more hours but we decided to keep moving. Time was ticking so slow. My feet were waging a war inside my shoes. I could feel the blisters getting worse but dreaded to look at it. It got worse when we hit the section of the road which had very little shoulder. There was some kind of construction work going on and the debris on the shoulder was so hard on my already blistered feet. Swore a little here and there when I would accidentally step on a sharp object. The section was getting hilly as we got closer to Parsons. just hated every bit of it. Soon, we spotted Sal in the distance. Carl and Gary passed us at that point. Day 2, we called in, 107 miles.

We crashed at a motel which was owned by an Indian family. The Indian flag on my shirt lit up their face. Sal, Sherry and I were at a very low point. I looked at Sal and he told me how bad he is hurting and that he is going to switch himself to “Survival Mode”. I switched to Survival Mode too. The steep uphill climb and the nasty shoulder debris took a toll on my blistered feet. It was hurting so bad that I thought my race is over. I was at a very low point. How am I going to continue another 207 miles with these feet? The very thought was mentally challenging. I was regretting so bad for taping my feet with the adhesive tape. But the damage is done and I need to keep going. No point in complaining coz everyone’s hurting, one way or the other. I got myself into this and I need to get out of this by myself. I tried to sleep but I had a nightmare that I am calling Carl and letting him know that I am dropping from the race. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. With the help of the first aid kit provided by the hotel owner, I took care of my blisters, took a shower and got ready to hit the road.

While getting ready to leave, we saw Fred coming in. He was barely moving at that point. I could see that he was hurting really bad. I personally went to thank the Indian family for their hospitality. The Indian masala chai that they offered lifted my spirit a bit. I devoured a huge cheese burger at a small joint across the motel while sharing our stories with the strangers. One of them said that they saw another runner a few miles ahead. We all thought it must be Abi. I filled my back pack with lots of ice and water and headed towards Linden.

The road from Linden to Perryville had very little shoulder and the drivers were so rude. Sherry almost got hit by a pick-up truck and the driver didn’t give a damn about us. Soon we reached Perryville and crossed the bridge across the Tennessee River.

Switch to normal mode and Begging for food:

Though I started from parsons in “Survival mode”, running the little bit of downhill towards Linden made me feel that I am still in game and moved to “Normal Mode”. But I was having a different issue now. Starvation. Though I gulped a large chocolate milkshake and a cheese burger, I was hungry. Earlier a stranger offered us some green apples. I ate them and took some more from Sherry and I was still hungry. It was like a car full of gas all of a sudden going empty. A few miles before Linden, I located a bar on top of a hill. I wanted food, period. While Sherry and Sal were waiting, I went up the hill to see if the bar had anything to offer. It was a local country bar. Three to four gentlemen having a very strong southern accent arguing with each other about something while the waitress looked completely wasted. I had to repeat myself thrice every time. When I asked whether she got any food, she said “No”. I persisted; I was ready to take anything even leftovers at that point. When she looked at my shrunken face, she took pity on me and offered to give her frozen pizza which she had saved for herself after the shift. I was smiling at this time. Like a wanderer in the desert who found an oasis.

I quickly went down the road and informed Sal about the good news and saw his face lighting up. Sherry decided to lie down instead. The waitress offered some Mountain dew while the pizza was getting ready. The bunch of drunkards heard our story and thought we were on drugs. One even said “You are stupid or what; there are lots of things to do for fun” in a mocking tone and everyone laughed, I did too. Here I am in the middle of nowhere at the wee hours of the night begging for food at a bar. How often will you get to do this in real life. Meanwhile, the pizza was ready, and waitress saw the whole pizza disappearing right in front of her eyes. We ate it as if we didn’t eat food in days. Though it didn’t fill me up, my gas meter got up a bit. Any amount of fuel is good. This angel, though she was drunk, was the only reason I survived another night and kept moving.

The James Bond Dog:

Feeling rejuvenated, we started our long walk to Hohenwald, which was about 19 miles from Linden. Having taken care of the body it was time to take care of the mind. At this point, I have hardly slept ever since the race started. Though we all kept a good pace, we needed some rest. We napped a bit on the side of the road and then after about 5 miles we stopped again. This is where something funny happened. While we all were lying down on the side of the road, we heard something as if a dog was tiptoeing and following us. Assuming that it must be a hallucination, I closed my eyes briefly when Sal hollered again saying he heard something. It was indeed a dog. It was tiptoeing on its feet so slow and silent following us as if someone has deployed it to spy on us. When we got up in a jiff, the dog hollered so loud signaling all its friends in the neighborhood, the next few minutes was crazy. Running and walking at a fast pace on my blistered feet was no fun. It was a long night. The sun was out before we knew it and when we saw a nice church parking lot, we decided to lie down there for a few minutes. We soon got company but the dogs were much friendly than the previous ones. That’s when we saw Abi passing us. She looked fresh and strong and was running. I had my doubts whether I will ever get back to running with a decent pace in my life after Vol State. At this point, 3mph was the new 7mph. As we entered the city limits we picked up some food from a gas station and crashed at a motel at Hohenwald. This brought us to the end of Day 3, Mile 144.

I started to wish a truck would hit me:

After a cold shower and taking care of the blisters, I slept a good 2 hours but nightmares woke me up. That’s when I saw Sherry taking off. She had some foot issues and had to go to Wal-Mart. I tried to get more sleep but it didn’t work so well. Sal and I got ready and went to Hardees. Had their biggest and heaviest cheese burgers and flushed it down with several refills of coke. Our goal for the day was to get to Columbia. We met Gary and Sandra on our just before we hit Natchez Trace. When Gary asked how I am feeling, I told him “Gary, I wish a truck would hit me, not hard but a little bit to injure me so that I can take that as an excuse and drop out from the race. I would gain sympathy from others and yet leave the race as a hero”. That’s exactly what I told him and I was being honest. That was the thought running in my head while running from Lexington to Parsons. I was hurting bad, very bad. Later that day Gary sent this in his updated but didn’t reveal my name.

“i think this call for an updated list bio: fantasy ultra goal: to be hit by a truck, and only injured slightly.”

After chatting a bit with Sandra and Gary we headed towards Columbia. I was worried about Sherry at this point but Carl assured us that she is moving strong and is past Natchez trace. It was Sal and me at this point. Soon, we reached Hampshire. We found a store with a vending machine. I was hungry by now. It’s so frustrating when you have food right in front of you but you can’t have it. All that’s there between me and food is a thin glass. I was drooling looking at the bag of chips inside the convenient store like a dog in chains looking at food. Its right there, but I just can’t have it. I was really sad. I should have carried an extra cheese burger. Drank couple of coke instead and marched towards Columbia.

Made it to Columbia early in the morning, Day 4 and Mile 184. Sherry had already made it to Columbia, TN that morning and crashed at a motel. We crashed along with her in the same motel later that morning. Sherry took off early though. Sal and I rested a bit. Inspected my feet and there were more blisters. As I was adjusting my feet to accommodate the existing blisters, new blisters would show up at another spot. Removing the socks was the most painful thing. At one point, it was so excruciating, it felt like walking on razor blades. I slept a bit only to be awaken by the same signature nightmare. All my nightmares would be the same. It’s about making a call to Carl and telling him that I am done with the race and asking him to pick me up. That nightmare was my wake up alarm throughout the race.

Let not your left hand know what your right hand is doing – Matthew 6:3

Content with a few hours of rest that I managed to get, I stepped out and it felt like an oven and it was 100% humid. Sal and I hopped inside Shoney’s and decided to have a long lunch to beat the heat. The waitress was too kind. She was very excited to hear about our quest and went around the table and told every other guest she was waiting on about us and our adventure. I ate like a pig. It was a lunch buffet and ate at least four plates of food and downed several glass of coke and a huge dessert. When it was time to get the check, the waitress told me that it’s been taken care of. A random stranger she was waiting one had paid for our food and also asked her to not tell us until the stranger left the restaurant. I so wanted to thank the stranger but he was long gone. In a world where everyone deserves attention, this random stranger not only taught me a great lesson but how to live by it. His act of kindness really lifted my spirit and made my day. Like they say “Today you, tomorrow me”. I asked the waitress to pass on our sincere thanks to that man if he ever shows up again.

It was still hot outside but we decided to keep moving. Sal kept a good pace and I tried to keep up with him. Refueled at a couple of vending stations on my way and narrowly missed the “Bench of Despair”, a very important landmark of the Vol State Course. A stranger who was aware of the Vol State stopped by on the side of the road and handed over a water bottle. After a few miles, Gary and Sandra greeted us with their big smile. Gary said that we picked wrong time of the day to run. It was a hot day and he mentioned that he measured the surface temperature of the road and it was like 146F. Exchanged the story about the act of kindness from the stranger with Sandra and we made our move.

I love Tennessee, period.

I had nothing but good experiences throughout the race, even back at the crazy bar, filled with drunks, people were kind. On my way to Lewisburg just before I got to the intersection, a cute old man in a pickup truck probably in his 80’s stopped by and offered to take me to his house for supper and drop me back at the exact location. I still remember his face. His act of kindness moved me. I hated to say “No” but I had to, and gave him the reason. He asked me to be safe and left. I remember telling Carl how I met a cute old man who is the best granddad one can ever ask for. Pain and suffering was inevitable during Vol State but I am so glad and thankful for the experiences and I enjoyed every bit of it as an unaided runner. I have read couple of story book on wayfarers but getting to live a life like that was something. No matter how good I get with words to explain, one has to be there, in that moment to understand such experiences. While my pain and suffering was making me strong, people and their act of kindles along my way were teaching me to live and appreciate life.

Amid the “pain and suffering” is the “pure joy” of traveling the open road with nothing but your own power moving you forward.

My encounter with a cop, getting investigated to becoming Facebook friends:

I didn’t see Sal in a long time. It was already dark and I was sitting by the courthouse in Lewisburg. I thought I would wait a bit for Sal to catch up and then head out to Shelbyville. Took my shoes off and was massaging my feet and there were two guys sitting next to me. One was a huge guy with piercings and tattoos and the other was a skinny guy. We had a little conversation and I told them about the race and they were pretty shocked. But what happened the next one hour was something that I never expected.

I see a cop car going around the court house:

Huge guy: Watch out. He is gonna go around the court house.

Me: <Blinking>

Huge Guy: He is gonna go around the court house one more time and pull over right in front of us

Me: <Panicking and blinking>

Huge guy: He is pulling over, act kewl..don’t worry

Me: <Thinking: why should I act kewl and normal>

The cop by now has pulled right in front of me and had the beaming huge light turned ON, pointing it on my face. I was panicking by now but acted as if it’s no big deal. The cop was asking for backup and two more cars joined him. He stepped out of the car and took my ID. Another longest 10 minutes of my life. I waited until he got back to me once again and asked me what I am doing at this time. I explained about the race. He frowned. I explained in detail, he frowned more. Finally he asked me to leave right away and asked me to meet him at the Shell station which was about 0.5 miles from the court house. I picked up my stuff and left while the cops were having a word with the other two guys.

As soon as I made it to the Shell gas station, one cop followed me and asked me more about the race and other details. Once he got convinced that I am a nice guy (A little self compliment) he got interested about the race. I started telling him about Vol State, Barkley, Strolling Jim, UltraMarathons and about Laz. He was surprised that there were events of suck crazy long distances and that there are people who run such races. We spoke like good old college buddies for about an hour about Ultramarathons and about India. The cop went ahead and launched Facebook from his laptop and “like” the Vol State FB page. He said he is going to track my progress on Google maps. Then he asked me whether I can be his friend on FB. When I told him how to find me, he sent me a FB friend request with a note “This is the nice cop you met at Lewisburg”. I told him that I’ll accept as soon as get back to civilization. He wanted to click a picture with me and we waited for Sal to show up, but when he did, Sal was in a pretty bad shape. While we refueled at the gas station, the cop went ahead and helped Sal with his motel booking and left. People have been nice throughout the race, including cops. Sal was thinking about dropping at that point. His hands and legs were swollen pretty bad. I walked him to the motel and asked him to reconsider his decision in the morning and took off to Shelbyville.

Those surviving on the road are doing just that surviving…barely

It was a long night. I looked up and saw a plane in the sky. Up there, inside that big nice tube is a guy sitting in his chair in an air-conditioned space with a nice blanket and comfortable pillow with everything he wants to eat and drink and there must be a beautiful waitress attending to him if he needs anything. Back to reality, here I am on a stinky road in the middle of the night out of water and out of food limping on my blistered feet suffering. Such is life. God is good, beer is great, people are crazy, I was signing that song loud, really loud. If any of my friends would have seen me at that time, they would have thought I have gone nuts. I made it to Bedford Co by the middle of the night. Sleep deprivation was killing me. I might have slept for about 6 hours since the race start. I was starving. I was surprised since I ate a whole large pizza but I was still hungry. I got to a nice little breakfast café by 4:30AM. I knocked at the door and the lady told me that they open at 5:00AM. I asked her for some water and she let me in to refill my backpack.

I couldn’t stay awake at this point. I looked around and there was a church and a cemetery behind it. Perfect. I headed into the cemetery and found a nice spot to lie down. I passed out for about an hour and I got up to my alarm, the same old nightmare. That one hour nap felt so good. I passed the idea on stopping for breakfast and sneaked out of the cemetery. I wanted to make it to Wartrace by noon and was planning to crash at my good friend Amanda’s house. Shelbyville courthouse came in sight and made my check in call to Carl. Day 5, Mile 227.

It was a hot day. I could feel it. My foot was getting cooked inside my VFF. I should have stayed at Shelbyville but I braved the sun and decided to head to Wartrace. I regretted my decision. I felt horrible. The heat was sucking everything out of me. I drank the whole 100oz of water and was still thirsty. Heat was making my already blistered feet worse. There was not even a single shady spot to rest. I had no other choice but to push and when the Marathon gas station came in view, I ran into the station and grabbed a gallon water jug and drank 3 ¼ of it. The lady who was buying some stuff stood there astonished while I was drinking. I paid for it later and sat for a while before going another mile to my friend’s house.

I crashed on the couch and tried to sleep a bit but mind wouldn’t just rest. It just wouldn’t hibernate or even go idle. The effort put in to go to sleep was worse than the blisters. My foot was evidently swollen especially near the toes. Two new additions to the blister family, a huge blister on the right foot toe and a big one on the left heel. Tried to stand up and felt miserable. I have 78 more miles to go. I switched myself to survival mode. I got 5 more days and even if I average 16 miles a day I should be able to finish the race. Refueled myself and hit the shower which ended up being the most painful one. I was moved to tears while replacing the band aid. I decided then to push to the finish line. No more sleep breaks, only rest stops to refuel. It wasn’t about getting to the rock but I just wanted to be done with it. I was losing myself. Patience, patience, I spoke to myself.

That night I called my mom:

While I was getting used to the newly formed blisters and fighting the fatigue, an uninvited visitor showed up. Shin splint on my left leg. Yet another lonely night. I was really getting worried. What if it gets so bad that I couldn’t keep up with 16 mile/day average? To keep myself distracted, I called a couple of friends. Spoke to Joshua for a while and then with Diane. I was so craving for a soda when I was a few miles away from Manchester. I looked though my bag and four quarters and $5 bill but no more extra quarters and no $1 bill. The vending machine wouldn’t take the $5 bill and I don’t have enough quarters. Another dog drooling at the food scene. I stood in front of the vending machine in silence expecting a miracle to happen, that out of nowhere a soda bottle would pop up. I was wrong and I left, frustrated.

The shin splint was getting worse. The left foot was swollen by now. A little ice would help but where would I find one in the middle of nowhere. It felt as if a brick was attached to my left foot. I was literally dragging my left foot every single step. I felt the need to sit down but I was dreading about the pain that I have to endure once I start walking again. A church graveyard was in sight and sat down there for a while. I couldn’t go to sleep but just sitting down felt so comfortable. I wanted ice so bad, I decided to keep moving and was so glad to find a convenient store. I drank couple of coke, picked up a 10lbs ice bag and started walking. There was no motel in sight. I tried calling Sherry to check if she had crashed anywhere in Manchester but no reply. I finally found an abandoned gas station. Threw my backpack down in frustration and kept the ice bag on my left feet. It was still hot and humid and the ice was melting away. I told Carl later that morning while I was at Hillsboro and Gary included it in his update.

naresh is in hot pursuit in hillsboro (app 260).

ok, he isnt in hot pursuit

he is sitting in an abandoned convenience store

with a bag of ice on his foot

weeping.

says his foot feels like a brick attached to his ankle.

says he only hopes to wake up someday and not feel like this.

That’s right. I was only hoping that I don’t want to wake up someday and not feel like this. I called my mom. She was surprised about the late night call but I covered it up with a couple of lies. We spoke about a lot of stuff going on in the family and in India. After disconnecting the call, I wept. No point sitting here and drowning myself in self pity. I am here because I chose to. Was thinking about Mike’s email; This is your job for the next 4-10 days. Accept it. It’s not easy, and it only gets harder. Exponentially harder in the last 30 miles. He was right, every bit of it.

When your whole world consists of discomfort, the only thing to do is laugh. I told myself to HTFU and move on. To really HTFU. By now the ice bag was nothing but a piece of plastic lying on my leg like a blanket. I took a few steps and it felt much better. Icing the feet didn’t get any better but at least it didn’t get worse. The early morning sun rays brought some hope. I took it real easy, maintained a comfortable pace and made it to Hillsboro.

When I’m weak, then I’m strong:

I know the tougher sections are ahead of me but I tried hard not to think about it but just take it one step at a time. I was really at a low point that morning but “This too shall pass” and it did pass. I enjoyed some good biscuits with sausage and bacon and lots of coffee. Rain or shine, I was ready to hit the road. The waitress helped me fill my backpack and I took off. I called Carl and updated him as well. Day 6, ~260 miles.

It was a hot day. Hillsboro to Pelham took forever. I put my head down and just looked at the ground in front of me and took one step at a time. Couple of guys in a pickup truck offered a ride which I had to decline. They even handed over a $5 bill which I had to decline. I told them it’s a race. They replied “God save you” and took off. I called Diane and she told me there’s a café at Pelham which remains open till 2:00PM where I would get good food. I did make it by 2:00PM and had a huge salmon, rice, mashed potatoes and lots of Dr Pepper. Carl was driving through the course and he guessed that I would be at the café. Amy and Carl accompanied me for lunch and I told them the cop story. A friendly stranger joined me for lunch before Carl and Amy joined me. He gave me lots of pointers about the course but he said that the next 6 miles is going to be tough.

Every time I was explain the VS course to someone, once I get to the Monteagle section, their jaws would drop. I understood that it’s going to be a tough climb but never realized it would be that hard. In the middle of the day when it was hot, the pain increases exponentially. It was so steep that a biker got down and started pushing his bike. I was out of water by that time once I got to the top, I was glad that it’s done. I headed into a bar again and everyone just froze for a second. One guy asked me whether it’s raining, “No, I am just sweating hard as I ran up the mountain” I replied. While the bartender was filling up my handheld, I was explaining about the race and tried to be in the A/C for a little longer. Climbing Monteagle really aggravated my shin splints and there was a huge swelling. Stopped at another gas station on my way to Traci city and iced my feet. Knowing that I won’t find anything once I start to Jasper, I bought lots of Danish buns and Beef jerky and made it to Traci City.

I can write a book titled PATIENCE:

I hated the Traci City-Jasper section as much as I hated Lexington-Parsons. Hardly any shoulder and the traffic would just zoom by. I had to literally stop every time a car approaches and wait until it would pass. I don’t want to get hit by a car now, not even slightly. Along with shin splint and blister, fatigue was setting in and it was getting real bad. I didn’t sleep after leaving Wartrace. Pain kept me wide awake. Body is willing but the mind won’t shut down. The more I think about the finish line, the more frustrating it would get and I was losing my patience. “Patience – the capacity to tolerate trouble or suffering without getting angry or upset”, It’s a word with no time factor associated to it. Tolerate, but without getting upset or angry. That’s precisely what Jasper section taught me. I was so pissed off at one time after leaving Wartrace that I picked up a stick and started hitting a tree to vent it out but not today. Carl in his email told me, “Don’t underestimate the need for patience” and emphasized it in caps. Took a couple of deep breaths and kept pushing forward, to be patient, to learn to appreciate the journey as well as its completion and that this too shall pass. I have started the race and passed the middle and the end is inevitable, and if I am patient enough and endure, I will get there.

Sandra drove all the way from the rock to check on me. They knew that I didn’t get any sleep in the past 30+ hours. Seeing a familiar face in the middle of the night was such a blessing. We spoke for a minute and she took off and returned after a while along with Amy.

The downhill section to Jasper was a killer. I would have loved this section any other day but not today. The grade was so tough to walk and running was the only option I could find some relief for my tired feet. At one point, I felt I should curve my body like a ball and just roll down the hill. It was very humid and I was out of water by now. In my mind I imagined that I would be in Kimball, TN once I am done with downhill, but I was wrong. The downhill took me to Jasper and it’s another 5 miles to Kimball from there. I had little water left in my handheld and I tried to ration on it.

I was sleep walking on the Kimball road by now. A cop stopped me and when I told him about the race. He looked for a spare reflective vest in his trunk for me but he didn’t have one. He asked me to be safe and warned me about the traffic. I asked him whether he had extra water by any chance but he didn’t have any. I was totally out of water by now and could feel the effects or dehydration. Started walking at snail pace. The sound of speeding vehicles gave me hope that the interstate junction is close and that I can fill my water there but the intersection was nowhere in sight. It was just like the mirage that would make a man wandering in the desert to think there’s water close by.

Seeing a waffle house from the distant gave me hopes that I’ll survive. A part of me wanted to stay at a motel and rest but another part of me wanted to keep pushing and be done with it. I listened to the latter. I had a huge BLT sandwich, big bowl of chili, lots of hash browns and lots of water. The waitress was surprised that I drank so much water and she asked whether I am doing ok. I told her about the race and that I am at Mile 300. They thought I am on drugs and didn’t talk to me much after that. I don’t blame them. I was smelling nasty and looked dirty and my zombie look was enough to prove.

The Longest 14 miles of my life:

I still had a good shot at Sub 7. I couldn’t believe that I was thinking this way. I was ready to push the lever from Survival mode to race mode again. It’s just amazing how time and energy can impact mind. Moments ago, I just wanted to finish the race and now I am aiming for a Sub 7. I was determined. I have come this close; why not give it a shot. At the same time, I didn’t want to get over confident. Race is not over until I set my foot on that Rock. It was a tug of war. Push hard for Sub 7 or take it easy and finish. I looked at my shin splint and it looked pretty swollen. I haven’t removed my shoes ever since I left Wartrace, so I know pretty sure there’s a nasty sight inside. I decided to push for a sub 7 and take chances. I read the direction and walked against the direction of the traffic hoping that it would take me to New Hope Bridge, but when I didn’t see it coming, I decided to back track and go the other way. I lost a good 45 minutes in this confusion. I walked across the New Hope Bridge crossing the Tennessee River one more time and stood there for a minute. I crossed Tennessee River three days before after leaving Parsons and here I am crossing it again. I took a moment to appreciate everything that I have been through and thanked God for enabling me with His strength, without Him I am nothing. He was my strength when I was weak. When I had every reason to drop out from the race, the Lord gave me his strength and brought me so far and I had no doubts that He will enable me to get to the finish line. I called Carl to let him know that I am just passing through the bridge and made my way towards Sand Mountain.

I spoke to Josh briefly and told him about my position. He was excited for me and told me to get it done. The traffic was so bad, the roads so narrow with lots of twists and turns. The curve was too sharp. Sometime I had to stop well ahead based on the sound from the distant traffic and let the car pass. They were driving too fast. One car passed me so close that I lost my balance and fell down and luckily ended up in someone’s yard. I am glad it wasn’t anything serious. I was extra careful from then. Walking my way towards Sand Mountain I was going through the directions and it said “Easy 10K to the finish”. I underestimated the “easy 10K part” and dumped most of my water and ice before climbing the Sand Mountain. Another big mistake.

As I started climbing Sand Mountain, I saw Carl, Gary and Abi going up the hill and they said they will wait for me at the state line which would be 495Km mile stone. The uphill climb was very difficult especially my shin, it was crying in pain. I looked at my watch; Sub 7 was out of reach by now. The little detour at New Hope was a waste of 45 minutes. Precious 45 minutes. No regretting at this point. Gary was clapping and encouraging me along with Carl, Abi and Donald (Don’s Crew). When Abi approached and asked how I feel, my instant reply was “I want to kill this guy” pointing towards Gary. For making the last 10K very difficult and making it hell as if I didn’t have enough of it. Everyone had a good laugh as no one expected that response from me.

5K to the finish line. That Einstein guy was right about his theory of relativity. When you sit next to a pretty girl for one hour, and it feels like a minute, as opposed to when you sit on a hot stove for one minute, and it feels like an hour. That 5K took me for ever. Time slowed down, really slowed down. I was forced to witness the passing of every second of every minute. The more anxious I got, the slower time passed. Finally, I made it to the corn fields. It’s not too far now. Carl asked me whether I am cognizant enough to follow the pink ribbons that would lead me to the rock. He knew that it’s over 36 hours since I shut down my eyes and he was really concerned. But I was wide awake. This is it. This is the moment. This is what I have been waiting for. I assured him that I’ll meet him at the rock and they took off.

Started passing the pink ribbons one at a time as the course went wading through the corn fields. I started running after a point. The excitement was too much to hold. Day 1 was flashing through my head. I was scared and full of doubts not knowing whether I would be able to accomplish something of this magnitude and here I am still in pain and suffering but running towards the finish. Mind took over body and all the pain seemed very trivial. The rock was in sight. Carl was at the rock to ensure that I don’t trip and fall off the ledge. I walked to the rock and Carl hollered to Gary, “NOW”. Timer stopped. It’s finished. It’s over. It’s freaking over. 7 day 00:55:04. First Unaided Finisher and Fourth overall.

I sat down on the rock, the place where I wanted to be for the past 7 days. I ran, I walked, I ate and I slept, going through heat, days and nights through pain and suffering to get here. I sat right there. I was trying to talk but it was getting difficult to say anything. The pain that went mute briefly returned with full force. When I couldn’t talk any more, tears took its place. No matter how hard I tried not to get emotional, I couldn’t help it. I sat there. In Silence. No one spoke a word. They allowed me to be in the moment, to cherish the experience, to enjoy my finish. Covered 56 miles on my last day. Vol state was an experience, an adventure of a life time, it taught me so much, a challenge greater than I ever imagined, it showed me what I am capable of, to endure and keep moving forward in spite of pain and suffering, to have fun, to live the moment and above all to take one day at a time.

Carl helped get to a chair and everyone sincerely congratulated me for my finish. I finally drank good water. My mouth still tasted bad after drinking water from a dirty puddle.

I asked Gary, “Who’s the guy going back to Nashville on Monday after the race start, who”, he laughed. He knew very well how to encourage me and he did exactly the same. Abi offered me her course map (Thanks a lot Abi) which Gary signed it for me: Naresh, “the Monday Man”, You are my HERO! – Laz

I had the opportunity to see every other runner finish. I was extremely glad to see Joshua finishing the race, strong. He ran a Sub 8min pace the last three miles of the race. Now, that is something. We finished what we started. The full 500Kms. It’s over.

Charity:Water

I am glad that our adventure didn’t cost our (Joshua and Me) life. With support from amazing friends, we not only met the goal but exceeded it by over a $1000 dollars and still counting. Thanks so much for your contribution, support, wishes and prayers.

All’s well that ends well:

It was fun times after finishing the race. “Gary, it feels like I am in a space ship”, that was my first reaction when I got in Gary’s car and the cold air was blowing on my face. First time setting my foot in a motorized vehicle after 7 days. When I insisted to stay awake in the car, Gary very well knew how to put me to sleep. “Just pull back the chair and lie down, you don’t have to sleep”, Gary told me, the next thing I remember, I am waking up in his driveway. Almost an hour flew by. When we decided to crash one night at a motel in Kimball, I managed to get a good discount as the owner was an Indian. But when he heard about the race and the cause, he refused to charge me for the room and he insisted. He invited all of us for lunch. This would be Gary’s first time tasting Indian food and I told him how lucky he is to get his first experience as Home Made Gujrathi Food. The food was delicious. Carl, Sandra, Gary and I enjoyed the food and above all the hospitality extended by the family.

And just like that, it all came to an end. No more sleeping on the side of the road, parking lots and cemeteries. No more travel stories and meeting new people. Now that I am back to reality, all the experience remains as a good memory and that the journey to the rock has served me well.

– Naresh Kumar

Post race:

• Mom, Dad, Sis, I’m sorry!!
• I accepted the cop’s friend request and we are buddies on FB now.
• I read ALL the responses from my friends from Chennai Runners group. Huge thanks to Navin for keeping everyone posted about my progress in detail. Navin, thanks a lot. For your support and encouragement and for being there when I need you the most. Thanks for all you time spent in writing daily updates for our group. I also want to thanks everyone from Chennai Runners, for your support and prayers. I sincerely appreciate each and every one of your thoughts for me.
• Thanks to my friend Angel and my friend Jeff Bauer for keeping all my friends updated. Jeff your timely tips and suggestions are greatly appreciated. Thank You!!
• My blisters have healed up pretty good and I treated me a nice bike. Thinking about riding the Vol State course sometimes, soon.

Battle of the Vol State:

they got on the ferry & they rode it to kentucky,

they were headed for a battle in the state of tennessee.

there was heat and pain a waiting, but they didnt waver

they were bound to make their way; to the castle rock, you see.

the sun went down and the runners kept a comin

there wasnt near as many as there was the morn before.

they ran thru the bottoms and they ran over ridges

they ran thru dry stretches where a camel wouldnt go.

the sun came up and the runners kept a comin’

there wasnt quite as many as there was the night before.

they ran so far that stray dogs couldnt follow

down the endless blacktop to the slopes of never more.

the sun went down and the runners kept a comin

there wasnt near as many as there was the morn before

they left their homes & they left their loved ones

to fight a hopeless battle in the state of tennessee.

but those who reached the rock down in georgia

found the prettiest sight that they would ever see…

the finish. – Laz

THE END!

Along the course of this year’s Last Annual Vol State 500K I documented the 314+ mile journey on my Twitter and my Facebook ‘Running Page‘ (view here).

Below is my race report along with a few of those Facebook updates and photos I took throughout the race (and others).  The race report is very long and was done for me, to help me remember the race as time goes by and memories begin to fade.  If others happen to enjoy it or benefit from it then that is even better.

The Vol State 500K is one of the toughest races in the world. The race starts in Missouri then touches part of Kentucky before making it to the July oven on earth that is Tennessee for the next 290+ miles. The race concludes by leaving Tennessee and dipping down into Alabama briefly before runners finish at ‘The Rock’ atop a mountain in Castle Rock, Georgia some 314 miles after starting. Read the full story

The Race

Last Annual Vol State Road Race. 314 miles – go as you please. It begins by riding the ferry in Hickman Kt across the Mississippi and depart in Missouri. We run 100 meters in Missouri and recross the Mississippi on the ferry. Then the race begins covering about 10 mile across the corner of Kentucky then NW to SE across TN, We leave the state near Nickajack Lake entering Alabama for about 4 miles before crossing into GA on a private ranch for just over 1 mile, The finish on a big rock at the edge of a 150 ft cliff overlooking TN…. Dorena Landing Missouri to Castle Rock Georgia.

The Training

I got involved with a project to save a home I own in Corpus Christi, TX from demolition. The house had been damaged by a hurricane and after working on it for a couple of months I simply deserted the project for about 6 years. First and foremost was the need for a complete reroof. Soffit, fascia, drip strip had to be removed first, remove the layers of buildup roofing, put cripples on rafter ends, install stained redwood fascia with copper nails, paint new drip strip copper color, install drip strip, lay base layer of roll roofing, then final cover coat of roll roofing. About 4-5 hrs per day (12AM to 5PM) in the heat of Texas.

The run training was pathetic, 6 miles each morning at 5:30 AM at such a slow pace. On Saturday and Sunday I ran 10-20 miles with friends at various paces depending.

The drinking. I realized I was well on the way to being an alcoholic so about 3 weeks prior to Vol State I switched to non-alcoholic beer. Drank lots non-alcoholic beer, now I could start drinking when I got up at 4:30AM before the morning run.

The Prediction

I had a really hard run the weekend before leaving for Vol State with a friend Clay Brieger who ran a 3:10 marathon just this past weekend.

I pushed Clay as hard as I could in the heat that arrived that morning at sunrise. Somehow this gave me confidence to announce (only to a few running friends in Corpus Christi) that I was going for all the marbles in Tenn – redline it. If the temperatures were extremely hot during the race I announced “This is a race I think I can win”. Can’t ever remember making such a prediction before.

The Experience Factor

I had run Vol State the prior three years in a row. For anyone with a memory you would know every turn, but you might also remember “it’s no cake walk”. I had never actually raced the race, my only experience reference racing Vol State was my war for 3rd place with Fred Davis last year. With about 80 miles to go, we raced about 30 hrs straight within sight of each other – I eventually broke Fred with only a couple of miles to go. It was my first experience in this race to run all night long.

The Start

2011

I started easy – running a comfortable pace that I anticipated I could hold for a number of hours. I have had so many 24hr, 48hr, 3day, 6day, 1000mile runs. The experience factor, my body is very aware of what is coming. I think the body actually looks forward to the long hours of running. The mind at times rebels but eventually tunes out.

The Crew

Donald Brown was my crew for the 4th year in a row. He is more into the race than I. He would like a live videocam with live GPS for each runner. He wants to follow each runner step by step as they make the long trek across Tenn. He is simply crew EXTRONDINEER. After all our years together there is little need to give any instruction, Donald reminds me of sunscreen, bug spray, lube, helps tape my feet, knows my drink preferences – alternating protein, diet pepsi, pepsi, seamlessly. He also had the course memorized with little need to reference the maps.

The Change

I had been silent reference my feelings that I might actually be able to win this race. While many predicted they would have a sub 5 day performances – I simply listened in silence. I remember Donald asking Carl what he felt my odds of wining were. No comment from Carl. Carl is like the co-race director, himself a hell of a runner.

The first day, day became night and Donald said we had reservations at a hotel for the evening. I suggested that Donald cancel the reservation, I intended to run thru the night.  My plans still being withheld even from my crew.

When we finally got a room the next afternoon, Donald took in his computer and started to follow the race as he had done in prior years. We had taken hotels and stayed 8 hrs or more – time for me to watch Tour de France and for Donald to check up on e-mails ref the race and personal. We would leisurely go to hotel breakfasts, eating and talking.

Don gets testy. Remember I had not disclosed even to Donald my plans to redline the race. Now there were new rules. I told Donald the days of following the race on the computer before I reached the finish were over. My ability to run was totally dependent upon my crew pulling the duty of his life. To run 20 hrs per day is no problem but for the crew 20 hrs is next to impossible. Donald would need all the sleep he could get. The orders from me were to take nothing into the hotel except for a clothing change, toothbrush – We could either win or Donald follow the race but not both. From then on Donald got his updates from Carl by phone.

Actually he got some updates from Natalie his wife in France who would walk to a French internet café, check the Vol State web site and call Donald on the road.

Being First

I took the lead after about 100 miles and seemed to ascend to the throne immediately – never mind there was 200 – actually 213 miles to go. In several multiday races of old I had been in last place for several days watching the early leaders fade and then going for the jugular. When the dust settled I was high up on the leader board, actually winning a Sri Chinmoy 10 day race years ago after being in last place early on.

So I had little experience running in the lead. Actually running in the lead was not so hard – it was the expectation that I should or would hold the lead. Donald was paranoid that I was being caught.

Becoming Unglued

Donald and I had fallen into a rhythm. Running to the hotel mid day, taking a brief rest. I would eat on the run. I ran all night long and during the night Donald would drive 2 miles ahead and sleep. I would knock on the window when I arrived at the car. Donald would unlock the door, I would help myself to drink. He would drive ahead and catch another nap in the car. Our lead of 10-20 miles over 2nd place seemed relatively constant.

Heat Fest – Dehydration – Sleep Deprivation.    Was the Don Donald team about to be unglued?  Donald had complained of headache in a prior day but this day it seemed he was in bad shape. The day was early and I had hoped to run a few more hours before the real heat began. I myself was not feeling well. For the first time we drove ahead to a hotel to get necessary rest. I couldn’t run a step without crew, my race/our race being totally dependent upon Donald and his ability to aid me. Thankfully this unscheduled rest revived both of us.

The Final Push

Only 100 miles to go. I was reduced to about 2 miles per hr but started to run blocks of 10 miles then blocks of 6 miles punctuated by brief rests in the car under air-conditioning. Breaking the final miles into workable blocks of miles gave a mental image of reality. I could run 10 miles – but run 100 miles impossible. I have called what I did running, but I doubt any observer would say I was doing anything other than a power walk. I call it a waddle, developed over the many years of running really long distances. I remember when I could actually run some during my 1000 mile races. But those days – once running 72 miles/day for 14 days in 1997. But those days – are ancient history when dinosaurs dominated the landscape.

I hoped to finish in the daylight but it was not to be. My final miles were extremely slow – the climb up sand mountain to the finish – all I could do was make slow step by step progress. We arrived at the rock – first – 5 days, 14 hrs, 21 min 32 seconds King Don/Donald – a comfortable margin over second place at 5 days, 21 hrs and change.

Regrets

I wish I had asked more questions of everyone. Laz, Carl are full of stories. In retrospect I always regret talking too much and listening too little. Everyone is and has a great story of how and why they have taken on this Rogue race flying under the radar. No entry form, no entry fee, no awards. What makes this race special is it’s about finishing, well actually starting the race must be very intimidating to a first timer. Anyone who steps off that ferry solo unaided. It’s unimaginable to me. To look at 314 miles of solitary running, day and night, only the sweep of Carl or Laz once per day. Perhaps the daily phone call to report your position. Where do you sleep, how do you find food, drink on those long stretches between towns, convenience stores closed at night? To the unsupported runner, this race should belong to you. My hats off!!

I wish I could/would have stayed at the rock to see all finish. I had no injuries, no blisters, actually Donald popped one blister on my little toe but it was basically well by the finish. For me, I only want solitary down time after races of this distance. I only want to be alone and sleep. So I retreated into my shell, sleeping on Abi’s couch for hours watching Tour de France. Never the less I love and admire each and every finisher. I hope everyone writes a race report.

Queen Juli

Queen Juli – Winner of Vol State 2010. You served the thrown with class. You wrote, “Every once in a while, at work, at the fitness center, or on a run, I tell someone about you all on the roads of Tennessee.

I’ve shown Don’s picture on my phone, telling them he is 73 and just won a 500k run across the state of TN. It makes me happy when they get excited and ask questions. Most can’t believe Don could be 73 years old…. I say, “We have to get older, but we don’t have to get old.””

– ‘Ultra’ Don Winkley (2011 Winner of The Last Annual Vol State 500K with a time of 5 days 14 hours 21 minutes and 32 seconds)

2011 Last Annual Vol State 500K Results

[Special thanks to Ultra Don for contributing his race report to Run It Fast for all of us to read and learn from. He was truly dominate out there this year.  I was happy to finish the race and witness his brilliance, on and off the road at the Rock!!- joshua holmes]

MORE 2011 VOL STATE STORIES, PHOTOS, RESULTS & LIVE BLOGS

Run Under the Stars 10 Hour Endurance Race – June 11-12, 2011

This was my second year running the Run Under the Stars 10 Hour Endurance Race in Paducah, Kentucky put on by the West Kentucky Runner’s Club.  Race director Steve Durbin does a great job putting on this race as well as the Land Between the Lakes trail races.

The race takes place at the Carson Horse Park there in Paducah. It’s a half-mile horse track that is composed of crushed limestone.  The track is wide and more than accommodated the 75 or so runners that took part this year.

The race uses chip timing and keeps track of every lap you make during the 10 hour race. You can run as much or as little as you want. You can even run, rest, nap, camp out, then run some more if you want. Race standings are posted throughout the race to help track the competition.  A TV monitor also posts your lap count every time you cross the tracking mat under the race tent.

An aid table is positioned right there on the track that you naturally pass every 1/2 mile. This made the need to carry a fuel belt or water bottle less important. The table was fully stocked throughout the night with water, Gatoraide, and Heed for drinks. It then had an assortment of foods that included watermelon, oranges, candy, potato chips, and even pizza & ice cream as the race grew long.

Runners that show up for this race often have varying goals. Some want to run something as short as a half-marathon while others want to tackle a long ultra-distance of 50+ miles or more.

Weather for this year’s event was cooler with temperatures in the 70’s for most of the race after a storm front had moved through the area earlier in the day. Last year it was in the mid 90’s at the start and never dipped below 84 degrees.  So the weather this year was a lot more ideal for running.

Last year, I had found the race online and thought it sounded unique, quirky, and fun. It was within driving distance so I said what the heck. I had a blast obviously as I returned this year for more. I was also excited that I was able to persuade other tormented souls into joining me in the rat race around the oval track this year.

The theme song for the race, that got stuck in my head after hearing it on the radio on the drive up, was the Smashing Pumpkins lyric, “Despite all my rage, I’m still just a rat in a cage.” It was and is the perfect song and lyric for RUTS because we were all rats out on that oval cage running off our rage and whatever eats at us and drives us to push our bodies to the limit.

At RUTS you are always doing one of two things, either lapping someone or getting lapped. You actually get to know your fellow runners unlike most races where you might only see the competition at the start, finish, and perhaps for a few seconds in between as you run.  So you find yourself talking to the other runners, who are friendly and eager for any opportunity to distract him or herself from the 10 hour clock that is ticking down.

For that very fact, it’s a great race to run with friends that are faster, slower, or normally run a different distance than you since you can spend time with them every few laps as you make your rounds.

My good running friends Chris Estes, Scott Stader, and Naresh Kumar trusted me enough to take my word to join me for the race this year.

I showed up at the horse track at 6:30pm for the 8:00pm race start. See that is the other thing. This race starts at 8pm and then you run throughout the night until 6am, hence the ‘Run Under the Stars’ name.

After arriving, I quickly put up my tent, along with Naresh’s help.  Inside the track’s infield there is ample space to park, pitch a tent, roast marshmellows or do almost anything one desires.  Estes and Stader arrived soon after and quickly joined the ultra party.

Upon check we received our race bib along with other great goodies like a West Kentucky Runner’s Club running hat, tote bag, tech shirt, and fuel belt.

The tent and our vehicles were just 35 feet or so from the horse track. The tent was in front of our cars. Then in front of our cars, just a foot or two off the track, we placed our lawn chairs where we placed all our race gear we thought we might need throughout the night. This way we could just step off the track, grab what we want, then step right back on without losing valuable time tracking inside the infield to get personal belongings.

The field had 66 runners this year and 4 relay teams. The relay team runners were often easy to spot because they zipped by me because they had only been running for an hour or short distance. It’s always hard to gauge who is running hard or the furthest on a 1/2 mile loop because you never know the other runner’s goals or if they are going to run the entire time. Someone is naturally going to run harder and faster if they are just running a half-marathon distance or are part of a relay team. You also never know if this or that runner has been resting the past hour in their tent as you’ve been downing more miles.

I came in trying to have no expectations, to just run well and listen to my body…but in the back of my head I wanted to run 50 miles. I also wanted to top my 50.5 mile distance of last year.

When the race began I started at around a 9 minute/mile pace and ran the first three miles at this pace before I realized it was probably too fast a pace. I decided to slow down a bit and let my heart rate come down to help me find a comfortable rhythm. I didn’t want to labor, especially just 30 minutes into a 10-hour event.

I didn’t eat anything the first couple of hours. I just drank water and Nuun. The Nuun is good stuff and about 100x better than Gatoraide.  After the first hour I had finished approximately 6.5 miles.

I hit 12 miles at 1:57 and the half-marathon mark at around 2:08. I would talk with friends and strangers as I continued to put down miles. I brought headphones in case I wanted to listen to music at some point, but I never broke them out. I don’t like having to wrestle with headphones, cords, and sweaty ear holes while trying to run.

With an ultra you can’t just worry about hydration. You also have to worry about nutrition and replacing the calories and carbs you are burning up.  You will wilt and die if you refuse to eat. Of course eating when you don’t feel like eating is usually just as difficult. I started with simple stuff like watermelon and oranges. I also would take a Gu Roctane about every 40 minutes.

After 3 hours I was at 18 miles. After 4 hours, 23.2 miles. My runner never really slowed as the night progressed, but I had to walk for a 1/10th of a mile once or twice a lap after the first couple of hours as my ankles became extremely tender from some of the divots in the track from the horses.

Around midnight the pizza arrived!  I took two slices and neatly stacked them on top of each other as I took off for another lap. I ran the next mile while slowly eating both pieces of pizza. The pizza tasted great and provided several hundred calories that would come in handy later on.

I reached the marathon distance (26.2 miles) in 4:35 and had 28.2 miles banked at 5 hours, the half-way point.

At 6 hours I had finished 33.3 miles. I knew I had a good shot of reaching 50 miles if my body would hold up. My ankles, tender and sore from very early in the race, made me wonder if my running would turn into a March of Dimes walk-a-thon. I was hoping my short walk breaks every half mile would be enough to allow me to continue to run it fast until the end.

When I reached 32 miles, I came across Estes on a lap. He looked a bit beat up and told me he had developed a painful blister on the bottom of one of his feet. He had tried to tape it, but the blister seemed determined to slow down Estes or end his night….which it did.

Estes, to my shock, told me he was going to finish another lap and call it a night with 34.5 miles.  He was going to play it smart. Something runners, and especially those like Estes and myself, rarely do.

He made the right call.

So Estes retired to the lawn chair near the track and did a great job of offering the rest of us encouragement and support for most of remaining 4 hours.

35 miles came at 6:22 and 40 at 7:23.  I had over 2.5 hours to do at least 10 miles. I had my iPhone out to recalculate the pace I would need to reach 50 miles ever so often when I’d hit a milestone (marker).  I stayed strong and the pace I needed continued to become a larger and larger number….a good thing!

One of the best things that happened during the race took place took place with just a few hours left. I had been expecting and waiting upon it as well. I finished a lap and saw three volunteers standing there, each with a separate box. One had Bomb popsicles, the other Nutty Buddies, and the third had fudgesicles. I grabbed the chocolate one and that ice cream, that had  naturally melted a bit in the heat, tasted like fresh cocoa milk off a cow’s udder. It was heavenly and so yum!

Those magical volunteers from the big RD in the Sky were there for several more laps with all three ice cream options. I turned it down after the first time for fear my over-indulgence might cause a stomach problem that would turn me into Cary Morgan around mile 20 of a marathon.

With 22 minutes left, as the clock hit 9:38, I reached my goal of 50 miles. I felt good though so I kept running.  The miles weren’t easy at this point, but they weren’t hard either. I was still running 80% of each lap at a 9:10ish pace. I’d walk just long enough to catch my breath, bring my HR down, and rest my ankles.

I came around on lap 102 (51 miles) and saw I had plenty of time to attempt another lap. So I did, but I noticed quickly that my arms and fingers were tingling and going a bit numb. I quickly decided I didn’t want to die on a horse track in Paducah and walked a good bit of that last lap.

I finished with 51.5 miles in 9:58:42.

Naresh finished with 51.5 miles as well. We tied for 6th out of 66 solo runners. Stader finished his first ultra, a 50K.  Estes completed his third ultra with 34.5 miles.

103 Laps on a 1/2 Mile Horse Track (via Garmin)

103 laps around an oval horse track, in the middle of the night, might like a bad idea to some people, but RUTS is a great race that allows you to run with and alongside your friends until the race clock runs out of tick-tocks.

I’ve run 204 laps around that horse track the past two years.  I’ll likely be back next year for more.  I plan to bring even more running friends with me next year!

– Joshua Holmes

[Other runners I enjoyed running with, spending time with, and seeing once again included Sulaiman Seriki, Diane Taylor, John Price, Mike Youngblood, Bruce Tanksley, Gary Cantrell (Lazarus Lake), and Stu Gleman to name a few.]

[photo: Scott Stader]

KEYS100 Race Report: May 15th-16th 2010
by Beth McCurdy

As I sit here writing this report only 4 days later, I’m thinking about how fortunate I am that I do not have to work this week. Taking care of Grant, preparing dinner, and all the usual stuff, takes a lot of effort right now. Running 100 miles in the extreme heat affected me more than I had anticipated, both physically and mentally. But it was completely worth it in ways that I had never imagined.

Making the decision to run a 100 mile race wasn’t all that difficult. My decision involved making a verbal commitment to my friends in Tampa, Florida on a Half Marathon race weekend in addition to posting it on facebook. I knew deep down that until I officially sign up, I could always back out. A few months went by and when I felt fairly secure about this decision, I decided to sign up. Never in my life have I ever felt so much nervous energy-even more than right before the gun went off in the Boston Marathon. I felt exhilirated, anxious, and down right scared. After all, the most I have ever run is 50 miles in cooler climate. Running a 100 mile race in the Keys in the month of May would not be easy and I wasn’t even sure that I could finish. But isn’t that I why I signed up?

I stayed focused on my training leading up to the event by completing 70 miles in a 12 hour event, plus some other ultra and marathon distances. I felt confident that my training, my crew, Stacey, Whitney, and Dave, and the mental preparation necessary for this distance, would carry me through to the finish. Of course, the heat and humidity was always the unknown factor that weighed heavily on my mind-and for good reason.

The week before the event I was less nervous than I thought I’d be. In fact, I was in an incredibly positive mood and happy. I was about to embark on the most exciting adventure of my life. I had so much support and encouragement from friends and family-they seemed just as excited about the event as I was.

After a fairly decent night of sleep, my crew and I headed to the start line at the 101 mile marker in Key Largo. The gun went off at 6 a.m. For the first several miles, I talked to Christian and Cyndi. The company helped keep me relaxed and it was nice knowing that I was not the only one on the planet who was about to run 100 miles. Those early miles were an adjustment. I was running at an incredibly slow pace for me and sweating profusely. On a cool day, this pace would feel completely different. So this was my first wake up call of what I had in store for the rest of the day.

At the first few crew stops, I just wasn’t sure what I needed. In fact, I made the mistake of telling my crew that I didn’t need them for 7 more miles. Wow, what was I thinking? I ended up getting water from another crew during that stretch and realized that I need to accept help from my crew as often as possible. So, I surrendered to them and thank goodness I did. Every 2-3 miles, my crew was there with everything that I could possibly need and came out to me so that I could keep walking. Whitney had the cup of strawberries and oranges, peanut butter sandwich, and bag of washcloths. She would squeeze the ice cold water on my head, drape washcloths over my shoulders, and encourage me to eat. Stacey had the refilled handheld water bottle, salt tabs, pain relievers, and the new bandana filled with ice to wear around my neck. Stacey would go over with me what was ahead and where they would be at the next stop. This information was extremely helpful-especially knowing when a bridge was ahead which I ended up looking forward to rather than dreading.

The first longer bridge came at about 15 miles. As I crested the hill on the bridge, all I could see was beautiful clear greenish-blue water everywhere. Even though the cars were speeding by me at 50+miles per hour, I was able to block them out and had this sensation that I was running on water. I was grinning ear to ear and thanked God that I was given this experience to run the KEYS100.

When I approached the 50 mile check-in, I realized that I ran the second 25 miles faster than the first. This was a confidence booster for sure, however, my blistered feet were beginning to concern me. I told my crew that my feet were a mess but that I will not be taking my shoes off to treat the blisters or change socks because I was fearful that it may make me sick if I see the damage. They listened to my wishes and I hoped that my feet would be able to withstand the duration of the race.

The 7 mile bridge approached soon after the 50 mile check-in and I stopped at the SUV in order to take in a significant amount of water and gatorade. I held two handheld water bottles and headed on the bridge with Stacey. Even though there was a nice breeze on the bridge, I had already gone 54 miles at this point and it was approximately 4 p.m. so the sun was strong. Having Stacey lead so that I didn’t have to focus on vehicles flying by was extremely helpful.

After the 7 mile bridge, I returned to the SUV to regroup and suddenly found myself very dizzy. I lay down on the ground and my crew covered me with ice cold washcloths. I believe that running the 7 miles without my crew cooling me down affected me more than I thought but luckily after about 10 minutes, I was back running again and felt fine.

One of the best parts of the day was when the sun started to go down and it wasn’t nearly as brutally hot. I started to finally feel some heat relief and despite my hurting feet, I was able to keep running. I started thinking that if I continue to feel this way, I may actually finish this thing by 2 a.m. But without any notice, I started to go downhill (not literally).

After the 75 mile check-in (time was a little over 15 hrs), I realized how much pain my feet were in and at that time, it seemed to be more difficult to walk than to run. I also realized that running in the dark was going to be more of a challenge than I originally thought. Being in pain, tired, not being able to see ocean, trees, or people, and having to dodge vehicles, was almost too tough to take and Stacey at that point agreed to stay with me for the remainder of the race. I thank God for Stacey.

Unfortunately, I had another “issue” to deal with soon after the 75 mile mark which was nausea and vomiting. I had to accept the fact that I would not be able to eat or drink gatorade anymore. I knew this would be tough but I was still able to process water. My kidneys were still functioning properly and I was able to keep moving forward so with Stacey’s guidance, this is what I did. She encouraged me to run if I could, but the majority of the time, I could only last 5 minutes or less without needing to walk.

With 6 miles left to go, I could no longer run. I had no energy left and my feet were in too much pain. At one point, I had a strong desire to close my eyes. I felt extremely tired and thought that it might feel good to close my eyes. So, Stacey and I walked arm in arm while I took a little “walking nap”. I did this again with Whitney even closer to the finish.

I pictured in my mind that the finish would be the finish of a lifetime. Even if I’d been walking leading up to the finish, I’d make myself run with my crew by my side and be overwhelmed with emotion. Well, I did finish with my crew by my side but I was in such a fog that I really didn’t feel anything. I wasn’t able to run through the finish because my feet were beyond painful and my thoughts revolved around sitting down and taking my shoes off. My finish time was 22:52. 9th overall, 3rd female, 30 finishers total out of 70 starters.

Things that I did not expect

1)The support and love from my family and friends was unbelievable. I know that people love me but I guess running 100 miles reminded me of this.

2)That my feet would get so damaged with swelling and blisters. I thought I might have a few lost toe nails but nothing close to this.

3)That my crew would be 100% perfect. I knew that they were going to be great but they were impeccable. The selflessness of Whitney, Dave, and Stacey was incredible and believe me, they were tired, too!

4)That I would have lost so much weight. I’ve lost weight due to dehydration before from events but I hardly recognized myself afterwards. LOL.

5)That I would feel this much satisfaction out of accomplishing my goal of finishing my first 100 mile foot race.

Thank you!
Mom and Dad and the rest of the family for being so supportive
My running club buddies
My GUTS friends
My neighbors, childhood friends, and facebook friends
And to Whitney, Dave, and Stacey, the best crew ever.
XXOO

– Beth McCurdy

2011 Ridge Runner Marathon Race Report – (Josh Hite)

I saw Gary hitting the trail.  Actually, I saw the Jeep Cherokee first.  Hazard lights gave it away.  I had been tracking both for some fourteen miles.  The vehicle followed the course; Gary followed the vehicle; I followed Gary.  Now both were 0.42 miles ahead according to my watch’s calculations.  I passed the mile marker at eighteen right after he passed me going the other way.  The elapsed lap time said 3:10 when I passed his mark.  Three minutes ten second to catch the leader in the last eight miles.  Yeap, it was where I wanted to be after thinking about the various possibilities over the past hour and a half.

I dropped off the kids with my parents in Virginia the day before.  My wife stayed at home this trip to enjoy a night without either me or our sons.  My cohort, Dallas (Smith), and I continued on into West Virginia after unloading the kids.  The plan to have a quick trip that included rough marathon appealed to both of us.  At least it appealed to me, and he was kind enough to accompany me and participate as well.  I knew he had a shot at a top ten finish in this race.  Not too shabby for a seventy year old, but our last marathon trip together was to Boston where he placed second in his age group.  His time would have won six of the last eight Boston’s; it just happened that 2011 was one of the two.

Eight hours sitting and driving are not usually the best way to spend the day before a marathon, but we both had done it before.  Stopping occasionally had left us getting to Parkersburg, WV and our hotel at 7:15.  The meal at a local Italian joint called Johnny Carino’s was substantial.  A Peroni beer, antipasto salad, and the tour of Italy featuring ziti, lasagna, and fettuccini was almost too much.  I usually try to stay away from red sauce before a race.  Maybe I was sabotaging my own chances.  I didn’t care because earlier I had received bittersweet news that a friend was offered a job – a job to which I too had applied.  I was happy for her, but I didn’t want to hear this before a marathon.  The last thing I needed was to be fretting over lost chances prior to running my race.  At least my company helped put my mind at ease.  Dallas’s wisdom has a knack for that.

I appreciated the little rest I had the night before, but I hate waking to an alarm clock.  It was one of those necessary evils of a race – like port a poties.

Not many races allow you to register the day of the marathon.  This one does.  The previous two times I ran this race, I registered the day before.  Not this time.  We pulled in to register for the race that morning and immediately I saw Gary Krugger getting in his car.  Dallas and I both ran with Gary last August for the first time when he drove from Erie, Pennsylvania to race with us and eleven other people in 90+ degree heat.  Since then, I ran Knoxville with Gary (where he helped me up when I fell on the course), and I ran Boston with him (where I tried to get him to a personal best, but I blew up and he ran on to finish strong).  Gary is one of the few who runs more marathons than me, some 130+ with seventeen sub 3’s this year alone. Gary was there in West Virginia’s North Bend State Park to run a sub 3. West Virginia was one of the few fifty states Gary has not run under three hours.

The turnaround was the first time I saw Gary since around mile eight.  I told him that I didn’t know if I could help him with a sub 3 on this course as we walked to the start line together just two hours earlier.  This course was not made to be fast.  The first mile is synonymous with the first hill, which Gary and I ran side by side.  Downhills occur for a few miles and then the course climbed like my heart rate until runners hit a town (and the exposed sun) around mile twelve.  Three miles on a busier road with no shade lead to a mile and a half steep climb.  The flat shaded section of the rail trail at eighteen to twenty four goes through three tunnels.  A climb from twenty four to twenty five is followed by a scorching downhill to the finish.

After I ran up the first hill, I noticed that Gary was too fast on the downhills for me.  I had to save myself if I were to have a good race.  His lead started growing at mile four.  Because of a few stops when “nature called,” he had about a minute and a half at mile seven.  I didn’t see him after the town at the half way mark.  His lead had to be four minutes, but I still hit the half way around 1:30 and change.  My legs felt use for the first time climbing from fifteen to sixteen.

I wanted to save my legs to seventeen.  I changed it to eighteen after I had lost sight of Gary.  Now I spotted him again, and it was time for my legs to take over.  He spoke from across the path, but I couldn’t understand what he said.  The Jeep and the wind drowned my hearing.  I wanted to hold back a little longer – just enough to get over the bridge and see if anyone was behind me.  There wasn’t.  It was between Gary and me.

I wished that I had worn my Montrail Rogue Racers.  This was just the type of trail they would crush.  Too much road for the shoe I decided.  I want to save those for the trails.  I picked up my pace from running a 6:50ish on the flats to a 6:35 pace.  The heat was getting to me.  I pushed forward and passed early starters.  Then I spotted the blinking lights of the Jeep far ahead.  The tunnels lay just ahead.

As I went into the first tunnel, I remembered how little sunlight penetrated.  I had remembered the hills, the sun, and the turnaround.  Somehow I forgot the darkness in the tunnels.  Run like on the trails.  Set the foot down lightly and lock the ankle into place.  It worked.  I powered through the first tunnel and was met with a surprise.  Gary’s ponytail caught my attention.  It waved just thirty seconds ahead of me.  I was running a 6:30 pace.  He must have slowed to a 7:30.

If the reader wants solid advice or some kind of secret to racing a marathon, then pay attention.  If there is a downhill anywhere from 16-20 followed by a sustained flat, then that is where people will break.  It delays “the wall” because of the downhill.  The runner hits the flat and starts working harder.  Everyone knows about “the wall” and expects it to occur.  When going downhill, you feel good.  Most of the time when running on a flat section you feel good, but after running downhill, “the wall” is condensed and magnified. Gary and I used the same strategy in Knoxville to dust two guys sticking with us.  Today it bit Gary.

I approached quickly, and he looked back muttering, “I have been waiting on you.”  I couldn’t help him. His race was over, and if I talked or slowed, my race would be over too.  He knew that he was going to have to come back to West Virginia to get his Sub three.  I sped ahead to mile twenty two, two miles until the last hill.

6:30 pace held true until I hit the hill.  I craved water, but only Gatorade was at the stations.  It could have been Crisco – I wasn’t having any.  My stomach may not have handled it.  This was on my mind but not as much as the upcoming hill was.  I was greeted by a grandmother and a young girl taking pictures when I hit mile marker twenty four.  Their encouragement was appreciated, but the appreciation did not relieve the pain expressed on my face.  I noticed my watch display 2:44:??  What?  That is a 6:52 pace, but the hill was ahead.  I started my mantra, “feet on the ground.”  The more my feet hit the ground, the faster I covered the ground.  I thought I was in Jackson County running up the hills with Dallas.  If there were anyone who had trained to run up these hills, it was us.  Breaking three hours would be tough though.

I could see the top.  The last water station awaited me.  I took two waters: one spilling on my head and the other splashing in my face and mouth.  Mile twenty five was only twenty feet later.  8:10 for the hill, but more importantly my watch showed 2:52:28.  I knew 6:40 pace is 1:20 for the last two tenths of a mile.  That was eight minutes, too much time.  6:00 flat is 7:12 for the final 1.2 miles.  I had a downhill, but I knew it needed to be around 6:00 flat.  The feet hit the ground nonstop.  Leaning forward and using the tangents helped me push out a 6:13 mile.  1:19 across the bridge and around two turns to break three hours: difficult for sure.  The bridge had a van coming out.  Did it see me? I had to be a blur.  It moved right and let me continue my path.  The finish clock ticked 2:59:3x through the leaves.  My arms pumped, and I leaned forward to see 59:40.  I ran harder and the clocked seemed to tick faster.  It seems that time would have slowed, but it sped ahead.  59:52.  I stopped looking and put my eyes on the finish shoot.  59:56.  How could the seconds pass so quickly?  I crossed the line and hit my watch – 2:59:58.  This took the cake for the hardest I worked for a sub three.

Gary came through about eight minutes later.  I handed him the ice bag someone gave me and apologized for not chatting when I saw him last.  He gathered his facilities, and we walked back to the top of the hill towards the car.  Cheering people (ten milers mainly) to the finish as we went against the flow, we noticed third place.  He was some thirty minutes back.  We continued up the hill hoping to see Dallas, and there he was.  Fourth!  Seventy and fourth!  It doesn’t matter your age when you are fourth.  You will win whatever age group.  He just happened to be in the last age group.  Not too bad for not training for a marathon, but we have been running those hills in Jackson County.

– Josh Hite

Nanny Goat 100 Mile  Ultra Marathon Race Report (May 28-29, 2011)
My 1st 100 miler, 1 loop at a time

Nanny Goat is a race that offers to run 12 hours, 24 hours or 100 miles. The course: a one mile loop on a horse ranch. You actually run through the horse stables each mile and swipe your timing card attached to your wrist. I picked this race because I thought it would be a good way to find out if I am even cut out for running all day and all night. Passing by your own aid station every mile seemed doable.

Last year, I attempted Nanny Goat and dropped at 69 miles, 20 hours due to very bad blister feet. Consensus was the shoes caused the problem. I ditched those Asics trail shoes and got Inov-8 Roclite 295s I’ve run in for a year and no blisters. This year I also summoned a crew of 6 and told them their goal was to keep me out of the chair. I even questioned the times I had to use the bathroom whether or not I was looking for an excuse to sit down. Yes, we had portable pots at this race. I had 28 hours to finish 100 miles and I assumed that’s what it would take me. Within first few hours of running I kept saying I was running too fast as I was way ahead of schedule but I let happen and banked the miles.

I trained for 5 months with a women training for Western States 100 this month. We ran at least one of our weekend days together. Some of my training runs were harder than any ultra race I’ve done and I did use a couple 50ks and a marathon as training. Most of my weekend long runs were hilly trails but knowing my race was going to be flat, I did run a few long flat road runs.

The temps were nice and peaked at high 70’s, not too cold at night. I used the cooling system I learned while crewing at Badwater. Cold wet bandana on neck, ice under hat, and ice cold drink every mile until 6 p.m. Two days before the race I got a sore throat and lost my voice. Within about 3 hours of running, I was having difficulty eating, even gels. I had the gag factor and felt nauseated after everything I swallowed. I’m usually a pig at a race and can eat anything any time. I didn’t even want to drink my Hammer electrolytes. Another runner suggested I stick to fruit and water. I could get half a banana down reluctantly, lots of fresh oranges from the orange trees on the course, water and a salt pill every hour. Even though I gagged, spit, and groaned through the night I did not let it slow me down. I remember the first time I said I was sleepy and it was already midnight. This made me so happy I woke up a bit. Throughout the night, I sipped soda, cold coffee with creamer and chewed caffeine gum two times. Not a lot of calories in and not many potty breaks. I wasn’t bloated so we weren’t concerned.

After about 27 miles, I did get hot spots and quickly applied bandaids. Two on each foot in exact same places appeared at different times. I changed my socks often too. I brought quite a few pairs of thin socks thinking due to heat I would like these best. Thin socks on a mostly flat hot race did not work for me. I loved my thicker socks. The NG course offers various textures such as sandy, bumpy grass (the worst), dirt, and black top.

Sunrise is a magical time during this distance. We even had a rooster to let us know.  I couldn’t stop looking up at the blue sky, white puffy clouds and then that one black cloud. It rained lightly for less than an hour. I did have different pacers with me all through the night. A crew/pacer arrived in the morning and two of her suggestions gave me new pep. First was applesauce. Man, never did cold applesauce taste so good. With 15 miles left, she asked if I listened to music while running and I said, “no.” She then shared how she doesn’t either but used music in her 100 mile race and it helped. We grabbed my ipod that I did bring just in case. Who knew?! Listening to music made me forget any discomfort. I was so excited to be almost done and finishing an hour and a half faster than expected. I let it rip. I was singing and dancing my way to the finish, holding back the tears. I had a lot of ultra running buddies at this race that would stand up and cheer for me every time I came through the barn. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to finish and finish strong passing a couple runners in the end.

At 26:17, I accepted my buckle and cried while my friends snapped photos. I had no leg pain during the whole race but as soon as I stopped, some muscles stiffened in areas all new to me. Oh, and my cold came rushing in full force. Legs and feet are golden but my cold is kicking my butt.

That’s the race report about me. A whole other race report can be written about the Nanny Goat race itself. The horse ranch, the race director, the other runners all make for a family event with lots of quirky endurance run nuts and big smiles. Endorphin Dude changed capes throughout 24 hours and Ed Ettinghausen memorized everyone’s name, giving every runner a shout-out every time he passed you. I love my ultra family. My first buckle is baby blue with a goat on it…I’ll take that!

–Kista Cook

Kista’s Website & Race Medal Racks for Purchase

Nanny Goat 100 Mile Ultra Marathon Race Website