2017- The Year My Body Rebelled and Lessons Learned from it

Since we are the start of a new year, I thought I should take a moment to really self reflect on what was a challenging 2017. It would be ignorant and incredibly self centered for me to think that 2017 was difficult just for me, and I know that is certainly not true. I also know that many have faced adversities far worse than mine, so much so that my world would seem like cupcakes and unicorns to a lot of people. However, I do find some closure and perhaps healing in actually writing down some thoughts from 2017 as well as what I hope to learn from it.

The Struggle is Real          

The title is somewhat misleading since the early stages of rebellion happened around September of 2016. What started as a stress fracture and some tendonitis in my right foot healed up in time to have the exact thing happen in my left foot. I thought surely I could get it all straightened out by the end of February when the weather was warming up enough to make me really want to get outside and run rather than ride or swim indoors. Those first few cautious runs were uneventful, and I thought I was finally on the mend. But wait! Those pesky foot pains kept returning. What was so weird is that they would seem to switch feet every few days. My right foot could hurt tremendously, but then I would wake up to it feeling fine and the left foot hurting. Can you sense my frustration at the total lack of control? If I could count the number of times I found myself crying in the exam room of my Sports Medicine doctor, orthopedic surgeon, foot specialist, neurologist, or any number of other professionals, I don’t think I would want to admit to how many visits I made or how much money I spent trying to fix the problem. It was taking a huge mental and emotional toll and interfering with my overall quality of life.

Unfortunately, I also knew the fact that I was letting a physical injury which sidelined me from running so greatly interfere with my life as a whole said something about my priorities. I will openly admit to letting my identity as a runner and the act of running consume too much of my being. Yes, running is a huge part of my life. Yes, it was difficult to be injured. But, no, I should not let that make me miserable 24/7. Easier said than done. I hated the moody side of me that was present more often, the snapping at people for no good reason, the jealous feeling I had of friends who were still running healthy. I wanted desperately to just be able to run again pain free. If I could just have that, I thought all would be right with the world. Man, was I ever wrong.

I struggled through month after month of trying to force running even when it hurt. I did manage a couple of short streaks when I truly did feel like I was making progress, but they were all short lived, probably because I kept wanting to jump back in to training at full force. Finally, in May after a DNF at Cruel Jewel 100 and the realization that I was not healthy enough go out west for the summer to run as I had the previous 2 years, I committed to not running for at least the month of June to see if that would fix the issue. Nope. I swam my little heart out trying to fill the void that running created, not wanting to admit that I was simply substituting one obsession with another. Sure, running and swimming are both healthy forms of exercise, but it was the all consuming thoughts about swimming/running that still pervaded my brain. Enter challenge #2…

One day while swimming, I noticed that my foot was now bothered by kicking off the wall. And it didn’t matter if I just pushed off the wall with one foot, that was the foot to get irritated. This really sent me to a dark place. I was devastated. Running hurt, biking hurt, and now swimming hurt. I still fought it and tried to do some combination of the three before really laying low. I am a teacher, and once school started back in August, I at least had something to keep me busy and get my mind off my foot. Maybe, just maybe, I started realize that life goes on without running and that it is possible to be happy during these tough times. Don’t get me wrong, it was still a battle, and I still wanted desperately to feel healthy again. I struggled with doubts about ever being able to feel normal or be competitive again. But I also realized that clinging to these thoughts rather than focusing on getting my priorities right actually slowed my healing process, not only physically but mentally and emotionally as well.

As winter approached, I really did start to feel better. That is very ironic given how much I hate the cold and typically go through a low patch in the winter when days are shorter. Nevertheless, I decided to give running a try under the condition that I built back up slowly. So naturally I messed that up right away, had a flare up, and hit the reset button for good this time. After a decent November, I hit roadblock #3...My right hip and butt started feeling very tight. I had a torn labrum in my left hip in 2013 which required surgery, so this scared me to death. In the week before Christmas, I frantically scheduled a doctor’s appointment and was able to get an MRI which revealed no structural damage. I was relieved to say the least. I am currently in the middle of physical therapy and a rigorous mobility/stretching routine that had largely been neglected until now. Running feels right again, but I hope now I truly appreciate that we just have this one body. Better treat it good.

So, what now?

            For 2018, my goal is to practice what I know to be true and what I know is best for my long term health. If something hurts, listen. Don’t overdo it. Treat my body as I should nutritionally, physically, and emotionally. For my entire running life, there has been a cognitive dissonance between what I know to be best for healthy running and actually doing all of the things required to give myself the best shot at running when I am 60, 70, 80 years old. Sometimes those things are just a little hard, like stretching regularly, core strengthening, or putting more focus on running nutrition. Sometimes those things are really hard, like decreasing mileage, taking a few rest days, or letting myself eat the damn cake at the Christmas party. But I have to ask myself the question: What do you want? I want to be strong, healthy, and happily running for as long as possible. That is going to require some adjustments and flat out changes in my life. But all things worth doing are supposed to be hard, right? So, in 2018 and everyday after that, I must promise myself to treat this body like it is the only one I have. 

Tentative Race Schedule:

First, I will mention that I want to hit the redo button and try to go back to some of the races that I didn’t do well in over the past few years or that I just missed due to injury in 2017. That being said, I vow never to race if not healthy and not let the focus of running be racing over health.

January 13th: Sewanee Perimeter Trail Showdown (20 miles)

February 24th: Cummins Falls Trail Marathon

March 24th: Oak Mountain 50k

April 27-29th: Grand Viduta Stage Race

June 23rd: crewing/pacing Western States for a friend

July: Tushars 100k (date still TBA)

October 6th: Stump Jump 50k

November 12: Upchuck 50k

Rabid Raccoon 25K

     The Rabid Raccoon 25K is a new race that is part of the Rock/Creek Trail Series. It takes place on Raccoon Mountain, and with such a cool name, how could I not run it? The race is also one week before Quest for the Crest 50K, so I thought it would be a good tune up and last hard effort. One thing that really attracted me to Rabid Raccoon was that it utilizes the new trail sections on Raccoon Mountain called Livewire and High Voltage which descend and ascend all the way down and back up the mountain. This makes for one tough race, especially since the big climb comes at the end. I was excited to test myself and see what I could do in a shorter but difficult race.
     Unfortunately, my week leading up to the race was not the most restful in terms of work and getting plenty of sleep, but I did my best to keep a positive attitude going into the race. Plus, an 8:30a.m. start time meant that I wouldn't have to get up too early on Saturday. I got to the start at Laurel Point a few minutes before 8a.m. to get my bib and warm up a bit. Since this was a hometown race for me, I got to see a bunch of friends who were running, volunteering, or both. It's always fun to catch up with folks who I don't get to see much except at races. After checking in, I jogged around for a few minutes and then headed to the start line. Although it was cool early in the morning, temperatures were going to be in the 80s, so I knew I would warm up quick. I decided to ditch my arm warmers at the last minute because I figured I would end up wishing I hadn't worn them about a mile in. Thankfully, Dreama was right there to take them from me. Race directors Brian Costilow and Chris Luberecki said a few things about the course, and then it was GO time.
     I positioned myself just behind the front line of "way out of my league fast" guys at the start line and waited for the word "Go." We started out running across a field before doing a short road section to the trailhead. The grassy field reminded me of my old cross-country days, especially since the pace was pretty hot early on. I was thankful for the mile or so of time to spread out before hitting singletrack. The first few miles of any race are always the most tense for me because it feels like everyone is bunched up together and running on adrenaline. I definitely went out pretty hard and was running right on the line between comfortable/uncomfortable, but that was my plan because this was a relatively short distance race. From the start at Laurel Point, the course rolled along with no major climbs for 3-4 miles before ascending up to the visitor center. Although this climb is not that long, there are some steep sections, and it continues to go up for another 3/4 mile after reaching the visitor center. I settled in to a decent pace and finally relaxed a bit from the more anxious early miles. One good thing about doing a hometown race is that I was familiar with the course, having run it several times in training. As seems to always be the case in races, I found myself running alone in no man's land, just behind the lead group but in front of the second pack.

 A rocky section of trail along the dam just before climbing up to the visitor center

Photo Credit: Jobie Williams

     After cresting the top of the climb, there was an aid station with a bunch of volunteers cheering everyone as they came through. I remember seeing Robin and Michael here, but I didn't need anything at that point, so I kept running. I feel bad about not being able to stop and thank all those who sacrifice their time to volunteer, but in shorter races, I get so focused on running that I can't even remember who I saw at various points along the course. The next 2ish miles were mostly downhill to the switchyard and  then on a segment of trail that I didn't know existed at Raccoon Mountain. I laughed at myself about how I have run out there a ton of time but never discovered this part. It definitely added to the difficulty of the race though because it went down below the switchyard before climbing back up to a gravel road just before the big descent. We ran about 200 meters on the road and made a left turn onto the Livewire Trail which winds all the way down the mountain to the Tennessee River. The descent is about 5 miles long with the first 2 being very fast and the last 3 much more technical. My goal here was to make up as much ground as I could and basically bomb down the first part. It was also nice to have a chance to recover a little since going downhill doesn't require as much effort. On the second section of Livewire, it is still a net downhill, but there are more flat sections, and the trail is quite rocky which limits your ability to run fast. This isn't my favorite part of the course, but I tried to just focus on getting through it to the bottom of the mountain and an aid station. Temperatures were pretty warm by now, and I had drained my handheld, so I needed to fill up before starting the climb back up. I was also feeling a little bonky and hoped to find a gel at the aid station. Thankfully, when I reached the end of the descent, the awesome volunteers were quick to refill my bottle, and I found a GU at the aid station table. Now all I had to do was make it up the 4ish mile climb to the top and another 2 or so miles to the finish.

Climbing up High Voltage

Photo Credit: Jobie Williams

Near the top of the High Voltage climb

Photo Credit: Jobie Williams

     Although a 4 mile uphill sounds daunting, this section really isn't all that bad. The first mile or so is a very runnable grade with several flat spots that give you a break. Then the trail rolls along, alternating between some short, steep sections and more gradual climbing. It isn't until the last mile or so that you truly get down to business. This segment has multiple switchbacks and some really steep parts with little to no breaks in the climbing. I was glad that I have the opportunity to run these trails any time I want because I at least knew what to expect. Near the top, I saw Jobie taking pictures of runners. It's always nice to see him at races, and Jobie takes some of the best running photographs I have ever seen. He said it was maybe a mile to the road which gave me some motivation to push a bit harder to the finish. Once at the top, the trail is gently rolling with only a few minor hills before popping out at the road we ran on at the start of the race. Seeing the pavement was a welcome sight for sure because I knew that meant less than a mile to the finish. I made the left turn on the road and tried to stretch out my stride. With maybe 1/2 mile to go, I saw Nathan, Keith, and John, the top 3 guys running down the road to cheer runners as they came in. This display of sportsmanship and class is something that makes trailrunning such a cool sport. I reached the field that we ran across at the start and crossed it for the last time to the finish line. I chatted with Dreama, Brian, and some other folks for a few minutes and cheered on runners as they continued to come in to the finish. Brian got the top 3 ladies together for a picture with our awesome raccoon skull awards. This is definitely one of the most unique awards I've ever gotten at a race, and the trucker hat you got for running was also really cool. Thanks to all of the volunteers and Rock/Creek crew for putting on a top notch event. Most of all, thanks to God for giving all us runners the opportunity to go out there and see His beautiful creation while running.

At the finish with our raccoon skulls

Photo Credit: Brian Costilow

Georgia Death Race

  The Georgia Death Race is a 72ish mile point to point race in the mountains of north Georgia taking runners from Vogel State Park to Amicalola State Park. Sean Blanton aka "Run Bum" is the race director, and after doing several of his other races, I decided to sign up. Shortly after registering, I found out that the race would also be a golden ticket race for Western States, meaning that the top two men and women receive automatic entry into perhaps the most well known 100 miler in the country. This only added to my excitement. I knew that the women's field would get even more competitive now that GDR was a golden ticket race. I honestly had no clue if I had a realistic shot at finishing in the top two, but just knowing that there was a possibility of it had me eager for race day. In the weeks leading up to GDR, I met quite a few other Chattanooga folks who were also running GDR, and we did several training runs together. Nathan Holland and Jeremiah Lackey live close to me, so we would meet to run early in the morning. It was great motivation to train when you have others focusing on the same goal. Nathan has run GDR before, so he was able to give some great advice about the course.
     Fast forward to race weekend. I took off work on Friday so I could rest and head down to packet pick up early. My dad and I drove to Amicalola State Park to check in and get my packet Friday afternoon. Before getting your bib, runners had to show their pack with all mandatory gear. Because GDR is run on remote trails with 40,000ish feet of elevation change, runners were required to carry several safety items including a headlamp, emergency blanket, thermal shirt, waterproof layer, and whistle. This made for a pretty heavy pack considering you also had to have at least 22oz of water. I am typically a minimalist when it comes to running and usually carry next to nothing, so it felt like I was carrying a ton of weight. And to top it off, Sean made every runner carry a railroad spike for the duration of the race. Upon finishing, you exchanged the old spike for a new one with the race name engraved on it. Crazy I know, but if you know Sean, you know that nothing is too crazy!
     After checking in and listening to the race briefing, my dad and I went to dinner with Dreama and Trey before heading back to our hotel in Blairsville. Because I had a crew, I was able to stay at the start near Vogel State Park rather than at the finish near Amicalola. If staying at the finish, runners had to ride a shuttle that left at 5:15a.m. for the 8a.m. start. Ewww. Thankfully, I was able to go directly to the start and didn't even leave our hotel until about 7a.m. If I got any sleep Friday night, it was minimal, so when the alarm went of Saturday morning, I was probably already awake. Despite feeling a bit groggy, I was excited for the day ahead. Dad drove me to the start where I had to check in again to verify that I hadn't changed my mind about running since last night. Runners also got their railroad spike at this time. I wrapped it up in my thermal had and stuffed it down in my pack. When I put my pack on to run around and make sure the spike wouldn't bounce or hurt my back, it felt like I was running with a full backpack. "Ugh, this is so heavy," I thought. A liter of water, spike, shirt, headlamp, hat, emergency blanket, whistle, and several gels all stuffed into my Camelbak. I would have given anything to take it off and just run with a handheld bottle, but alas, that would not be happening. I might as well just get over it and realize that everyone else had to carry the same gear. It was around this time that I spotted Tim, a friend of mine who was kind enough to drive down from Chattanooga Saturday morning to crew for me. Tim is awesome at race day details and organization, and I was very thankful to have he and dad helping me out.
Start to White Oak Stomp Aid Station- Mile 8    
     Before long, Sean was calling everyone over to the start line for the final pre-race briefing. Sean said a few words from the top of his rental Suburban which looked like it had already been put through hell from driving all over the north Georgia mountains on rudimentary forest service roads. A few seconds before the start, I ditched my jacket and handed it to dad before making my way toward the start line. We would have a short road section before hitting singletrack, so there would be some time to spread out, but I still wanted to be somewhat close to the front of the pack in order to avoid a conga line at the trailhead. Sean counted us down and said "Go!" as we followed his car down the road. Seeing as how we had a long day (and possibly night) ahead, the pace was pretty tame to start. It was a gradual uphill for about 1/4 mile to a gravel road before reaching the trail within 1/2 half mile. From here, the trail climbs for about a mile before crossing a road and descending 2 miles. This first climb isn't terrible, so I just settled into a comfortable running pace and plugged my way to the top. I had started the race in a short sleeve shirt, arm warmers, and a Patagonia Houdini jacket, but quickly shed the jacket and arm warmers. The temperature was actually quite pleasant, low 50s and overcast. There was a good chance for rain, however, so I wanted to make sure I was prepared just in case.

Race Start

photo credit: Tim Anderson

     After crossing the road at the top of this first climb, it was a welcome relief to get some nice downhill. The first 28ish miles of the race are all on the Duncan Ridge Trail, and I had done a 50k on this section before, so it looked somewhat familiar. Runners were fairly spread out at this point, so I was able to open up a bit and cruise to the bottom before starting the biggest climb of the day. It seemed like no time at all before the downhill was over and it was time to start going up. My plan for the big climb was to maintain a steady effort. I didn't want to overreach so early in the race and not have anything left in the tank for the second half (hint: my plan didn't work out very well). Parts of this section are actually quite runnable while others are pretty steep. I alternated running and power hiking to keep things very relaxed. Somewhere around this time I got into a group of 3 or 4 guys and we chatted to make the time go by. One guy named Josh was from the northeast, Massachusetts or Connecticut, and had come down here for the race. I think it is interesting to talk with people from different parts of the country and get their perspective on trails in this area as well as hear about trailrunning in their hometown. Josh was loving the course and said that he was used to a lot more rocks and technical running because he runs in the White Mountains which are very technical. The conversation definitely made the time pass, but it still felt like we just kept going up and up and up. Finally, we hit the top and got a little downhill to the first aid station. I just grabbed a few chips and headed out.
   

Elevation Chart for the first 28 miles

Photo Credit: Rob Tucker

White Oak Stomp to Fish Gap- Miles 8-15.5
     As you can see from the topo map above, this next section is full of ups and downs. One thing about the Duncan Ridge Trail is that its builders clearly did not believe in switchbacks. The ups relinquish you to a power hike most of the time while the downs are often so steep that it is difficult to run fast without doing somersaults to the bottom. That also means that your quads are constantly contracting to "break" you. I believe this section is appropriately named the dragon spine. I could already tell that my quads were taking a beating which worried me seeing as how I was less than 1/4 of the way through the race. As far as overall pace was concerned, I felt very comfortable, but the extreme grades were clearly taking their toll on me. When I got to Fish Gap, I quickly refilled my Camelbak with Gatorade, grabbed some food, and headed out. I had started the race with Tailwind as my fluid which seems to sit well with my notoriously finicky stomach, but I would have to wait until mile 28 where there was crew access to refill with that.

The first climb shortly after the start

Photo Credit: Gregg Gelmis

Fish Gap to Skeenah Gap- Miles 15.5-21.5
     This next section starts off much like the previous with lots of sharp ups and downs until mile 20 when runners hit the only out and back part of the entire race. The 1.5 mile out is all downhill, meaning that the 1.5 mile is, you guessed it, all uphill. Shortly after heading out, I saw Nathan making his way back up, closely followed by Franklin. Both looked strong and in good spirits. It was uplifting to see familiar faces for the first time since the start, and I was happy that both seemed to be having a good race thus far. I knew that Nathan and Franklin were super fit and very capable of finishing near the front. A little further down, I saw a couple guys shooting video of runners along the course. This was maybe the second time I had seen them and definitely wouldn't be the last. I can only imagine how much they ran around filming people. Every time I saw them, they offered positive words of encouragement that were always welcome and much needed on several occasions, especially later in the race. One of the guys also told me that this next aid station had Girl Scout cookies and Fireball shots. The cookies sounded ok, but the Fireball shots not so much. I did get a laugh thinking to myself if anyone would actually take one while running the race. Shortly after passing the guys videoing, I reached Skeenah Gap and basically just checked in before heading right back up the way I came.

Somewhere around Skeenah Gap

Photo Credit: David Horton

Skeenah Gap to Point Bravo- Miles 21.5-28
     Knowing that I would see my dad and Tim at the next aid station gave me a little boost on this next segment. Because the race is run on remote trails, there were only 2 places with crew access. In a 72 mile race, you will cherish these times. I was also eager to see how close the next few women were to me on this out and back part. It wasn't long at all before I saw several ladies looking strong as they were making their way to the Skeenah Gap aid station. I was also happy to see Jeremiah, Nick, and David all running together looking happy. One thing about trailrunning is that the overwhelming majority of folks are super friendly and offer encouragement to one another during races. Sure, we are still competing against each other, but that doesn't seem to stop people from smiling and saying "Good job" to their competition. Do I want to beat you? Yes, absolutely. But do I also realize that we are all taking part in a journey and spending a day enjoying God's creation? Yes, so why not be nice?
     Honestly, the 1.5 mile uphill didn't seem as bad as I feared, and before I knew it, I was back where I started ready to continue down the Duncan Ridge Trail to Point Bravo. Thankfully, the trail became a little more forgiving in that the "dragon's tail" section was over. It was definitely not flat by any means, but the ascents and descents were not quite as steep, and it was a lot more downhill heading into mile 28. Since this was the first of two crew access points, it was crowded, and I could hear the aid station long before I could see it. For several minutes before reaching the crew point, I could hear cheering and clapping. Then, as I ran in to the aid station, there were people on either side of the trail yelling for runners as they came through. It was awesome. Right on cue, dad and Tim were there to meet me and take care of anything I might need. I remember dad asking me how I was doing to which I answered, "tired." I had gone through a low spot a bit earlier, but had come out of it, and seeing all these people raised my spirits significantly. Dad and Tim refilled my pack with Tailwind and sent me on my way. It would be mile 48 before I got to see them again.

Coming in to Point Bravo- Mile 28

Photo Credit: Katy Holland

Point Bravo to Sapling Gap- Miles 28-33
     I honestly don't remember much about this section other than it started with a climb. At this point, my legs were trashed. With roughly 44 miles to go, this was concerning, but it is what it is. All I could do was try to ignore the pain in my quads when I ran downhill. Even though I could at least ignore the pain, my quads were also a lot weaker than they typically would be, so I felt like jello trying to brace myself on the descents. Nevertheless, I made it to Sapling Gap and pretty much ran straight through this aid station since it hadn't been that far from Point Bravo.

Sapling Gap to Long Creek- Miles 33-41
     One thing I will say about this race is how awesome the volunteers were. At every aid station, someone met me to ask what I needed and did their best to get me taken care of as quickly as possible. When I asked how far it was to the next aid station from Sapling Gap and found out it was 8 miles, I was a little disheartened. In case you haven't realized, I was pretty tired at this point and was focusing on making it from one aid station to the next. Eight miles seemed like forever away. I glanced at my watch and set a time goal to make it to Long Creek in less that 90 minutes. That may seem like plenty of time, but this section was back to the steep ups and downs like before which makes it difficult to get into a rhythm. I went through another rough patch on this stretch but forced down a GU and managed to come out of it just before the aid station. For some reason, I was thinking that this is where I would meet dad and Tim. When I got to the aid station, I was frantically looking around for them but couldn't find them anywhere. I was close to tears when I realized that there was nobody at this aid station except for the volunteers. Obviously this was not a crew access point, and one of the volunteers told me that they would be at the next stop. As bummed as I was, it was nice to think that more than half of the race was behind me and that I would definitely get to see some familiar faces before too long.

A bushwhacking section that Sean sent runners up

Photo Credit: Nathan Holland

Long Creek to Winding Stair- Miles 41-48
     If I am not mistaken, the race course followed the Benton McKaye Trail around this time. It was not quite as steep and really a pretty trail. Until now, the weather had stayed dry, and the sun had even come out at times, making it fairly warm. However, as I was climbing near the top of the ridge, the wind picked up and a brief shower got me a little wet. I put my Houdini jacket back on to prevent getting cold because I know that I don't do well when wet and cold. Thankfully, the rain stopped after only about 10 minutes, and I quickly warmed back up. As we got closer to the aid station, I remember turning onto a forest service road that climbed up to Winding Stair. Hearing the noise from the aid station was a relief. I was really hurting both physically and mentally at this point, so seeing other people was a welcome sight. Also, I had run most of the race by myself which can make for some lonely miles. Since this would be the last time to see dad and Tim before the finish, I knew I had to get everything I might need from here on out, including gear for when it got dark. As soon as I saw them both, I was instantly uplifted, and they started telling me what I needed. The funny thing about ultras is that you start not thinking clearly during latter stages. I can't tell you how many times I have run through an aid station and forgotten to fill up my completely empty Camelbak or get anything to eat. This makes having a crew all the more important because they can do the thinking for you. I got my pack refilled with fluid and restocked on gels. I ditched my Houdini jacket and arm warmers because they had gotten wet when it rained. Since I knew it would cool down quite a bit when it got dark, I picked up my Gore-tex jacket. That way, I would have a waterproof layer that is also warm. Dad suggested that I change into a long sleeve shirt, so I put on a Smartwool. It felt nice to be dry again. After grabbing some food at the aid station, dad and Tim had my pack all ready to go, and I was on my way. Mentally it was a booster to think that I had less than a marathon to go. Jenny, Franklin's wife was there and said that this next section had a lot of downhill on dirt roads, so it would be very runnable. While that should be true, my quads were screaming on any downhill, so I wasn't able to make up near as much time as I should have. Nevertheless, I shuffled off trying to stay as positive as possible.

Leading ladies at Point Bravo- I don't look so good

Winding Stair to Jake Bull- Miles 48-54
     Jenny was right about the downhill. We had about 3 miles of nice downhill followed by several more miles of gradual ups and downs. The first 3 miles were on forest service roads, but we eventually got back on singletrack. I was actually happy about this because it was more cushioned than the road on my hammered legs. Despite hurting a lot and not being able to run as fast as I would have liked, I did feel like my pace was at least faster than it had been at the beginning of the race when the terrain simply does not permit super fast running. Not too long after hitting the singltrack, I happened to look back and see a lady coming up behind me. We chatted briefly, and I learned that she was Bethany Patterson, a super strong runner from Virginia. I kind of sensed that it was inevitable that I would be caught because I just was not moving as quick as I needed to in order to maintain a lead. We ran along together pretty much until Jake Bull when Bethany pulled ahead. She ended up crushing the rest of the course and finishing in first place, earning a golden ticked to Western States. Congrats to you, Bethany. Well deserved. Although it stung to get passed, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it at this point. I was giving it everything I had, but my legs were fried. I didn't really do anything at Jake Bull except check in and maybe grab some food.

Jake Bull to Nimblewill- Miles 54-63
     Remember when 8 miles seemed like a long way to go before an aid station? Well now I had to go 9. Perfect. As much as my thoughts were trending toward the negative side during this part of the race, I tried to recognize that and think positive. "Ok, just look at it like this: Get to Nimblewill, that will be the last aid station, and you will have single digit mile to go before the finish." This happy thought would last about 30 seconds before the negative crept back in and I would have to remind myself of the good thoughts. The fact that my stomach had rebelled wasn't helping things, but that tends to always happen late in races, so it was nothing unexpected. The first few miles were actually very nice on the trail before we popped out onto a dirt road. It was around here that I spotted Nathan up ahead. Dad and Jenny had told me at Point Bravo that Nathan was having stomach issues, and I hoped he got them resolved and that he was feeling good enough to keep me from ever seeing him. We stayed within sight of each other until hitting a paved road. Nathan pulled over to the side for a second when I caught up to him. I asked how he was doing, and he said that he had been throwing up for a long time. I would later learn that Nathan was not able to eat anything for the last 40 miles but somehow still managed to finish. His toughness amazes me. The paved road went on for what seemed like an eternity. If dirt road hurt my legs, imagine paved road. There I go thinking negative again. It was getting close to dark about now, and the sunset was very pretty. Good, positive thought. The paved road became a gravel road and we started climbing. At this point, I had to put on my headlamp because it was officially dark. I switched it on and ran a few steps before it turned off. Uh oh. I pushed the power button again and it flashed back on before turning off a few seconds later. We played this game 5 or six times before I decided to stop and address it. Granted I had no extra batteries or spare headlamp, so there wasn't a whole lot I could have done about it if my headlamp was dying or broken. "If you can't make it work, you'll just have to wait for the next runner, hope you can stay with them to see from their light, and pray that the aid station has an extra headlamp," I thought to myself. I took my headlamp off and switched it on. The little indicator light was green, indicating that my batteries were still good which made sense because I had just put new ones in it. The only other thing I could figure was that the connection was bad, so I took the cover off the battery case and wiggled the batteries around. This sounds easy except that I had to do it in total darkness because the light goes off when you take the top of the case. I managed to get the cover back on and turned my light on again so I could see. I said a little prayer that it would work for good, and God answered that prayer. Whew, crisis averted.
     As the road starting climbing in earnest, I tried to just settle in to a strong power hike alternated with periods of jogging if it wasn't too steep. This section seemed to just keep going up and up and up. Finally I saw what looked like 2 headlamps up in the distance and heard some people yelling. At first I thought it was the aid station volunteers, but as I got closer, it became clear that something wasn't right. When I got within sight of them, the lady came up to me asking what I needed. I could tell by her speech and the way she was walking that she was very intoxicated. Like could barely stand up straight intoxicated. And the man was no better off. In fact, he was stumbling around near the edge of the road, close to just walking off the side of the mountain. I just kept moving up the road as they kept wandering down. Shortly after this, the actual aid station came in to view. Because we were at the top and pretty exposed, this spot was very windy and freezing cold. I put my jacket on, drank some hot broth, and asked how far it was to the finish. When the volunteer said 9 miles, I swear I almost cried. My Camelbak was low on fluid, but the idea of stopping to fill it up was out of the question. I just wanted to finish this thing. I drank the rest of my broth as quick as I could and headed out.

Nimblewill to Finish- Miles 63-72
     This next section started out on more gravel road and climbed a short while before starting to go down hill. Thankfully, as I descended, the trees offered some protection from the wind, and I was no longer freezing my butt off. I was able to run on the downhills, albeit slow, but this at least allowed me to move at a decent pace. The gravel road came to a clearing where there was a volunteer directing me down this old wash toward Amicalola Lodge. He said that I had about 3.5 miles to the finish. For the first time, I let myself think about the finish being within sight. This "trail," if it could even be called that, was full of big loose rocks which made it near impossible to run. Fortunately, it didn't last too long before I got to a more runnable trail. Then I got a big surprise when I heard my dad calling my name. I had not expected to see him until the finish, and I knew this wasn't the finish. However, because Sean sent runners to the bottom of the falls within a couple hundred yards of the actual finish before making you climb back up to the top, dad was able to see me here. He walked with me through the parking lot and pointed me toward the path that takes you up to the top of the falls via 600 steps. Yes, we had to go up 600 steps at approximately mile 70. The route starts out as pavement before you hit the first series of 175 stairs. I know how many because it is marked with a sign. And you better believe I counted every single step. Surprisingly, they weren't that bad. At this point, uphills felt 1,000 times better than downhill on my legs. After the first 175, there was a short flat section followed by the final 425 steps. Again, I counted. At the end of the stairs, you still had some climbing before popping out at the main road up the mountain. As I turned to run down, it was so painful that I remember thinking I would gladly climb 600 more stairs if it meant not having to run downhill. Runners followed the road for maybe 1/2 mile before turning on to the final trail to the finish. It wound around for what seemed like a long time, but that is because I could actually hear the people at the finish line. As I popped out of the woods at a creek, Sean made did not allow racers to use the nice bridge but made everyone cross through the creek. At this point, I really didn't care. Crossing that creek to high five Sean at the finish was the best feeling. He told me to throw my railroad spike that I had carried all day into a coffin he had set up in exchange for a new spike with "Georgia Death Race" engraved on it. I was happy to oblige. Dad and Tim were there waiting on me at the finish, and after chatting for a few minutes with Sean about my race, we headed toward the car. More like dad and Tim walked while I hobbled. Since it was less than a 2 hour drive home, dad and I headed out. My stomach was wrecked and my body hurt so bad I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, but was looking forward to at least sitting down in my own house :).

Post Race
     The Georgia Death Race lived up to the hype. It was tough, rugged, relentless, and beautiful all at the same time. Sean did a spectacular job in every facet of the race from course marking to aid stations to being at the finish to personally greet you. If you have the opportunity to run any of Sean's races, I highly recommend it. You won't be disappointed. Also, it would be wrong of me not to thank all of the volunteers who helped make this race so great, everyone from the aid station workers to the HAM radio operators. Thanks to dad, Tim, and everyone who offered encouragement during the race.  Most importantly, I thank God for the opportunity to spend time running through the woods. Congrats to Bethany and Maggie on snagging a golden ticket. I wish you both the best at Western States. I'll be cheering for you.
   
   

     

Tushar 93k

     On August 1st, I ran the Tushars 93k trail race in Utah, but I'm going to back up a little bit. I had been in Colorado for the month of July just running and exploring the area. Because I was camping in my car, I had the luxury of being able to drive to a bunch of different towns without having to plan on where to stay. I started the trip in Silverton, CO where I stayed for about 2 weeks and got to experience the Hardrock 100 trail run, including pacing a runner for 26 miles. It was an awesome experience, and the San Juan mountains are the most gorgeous, rugged mountains I have ever seen. Really, there is something magical about that place.
     After my time in Silverton, I drove to Aspen where I was doing the Audi Power of Four 50k. The race was run on 3 different ski areas which meant all of the climbs consisted of going up ski lift lines. Straight up. The race had over 12,000ft of climbing all at an elevation between 9,000-12,500ft. As a whole, I had a disaster of a race. My Camelbak leaked immediately, and I had to ditch it and run with an 8 ounce handheld. I made the mistake of not taking the gels out of my pack though and had nothing with me for the remainder of the race. Aid stations had nothing but water and Clif gels. The course was not marked well, and I got lost for about 25 minutes. Don't get me wrong, some of the issues I brought on myself, but I felt like race organization was lacking at best. Nevertheless, I managed to finish and did enjoy running. It was a good test and helped prepare me for the Tushars race.
     The day after racing in Aspen, I drove to Leadville, CO, where I spend about a week running in that area. Leadville was absolutely gorgeous and a close second to my favorite town of Silverton. I managed to climb several 14ers, including Mt. Elbert, Mt. Massive, and Mt. Belford. As with the Power of Four race, I really believe that these runs at altitude helped me acclimate and be ready to run in Utah. Grand Mesa, CO, was my next stop on the adventure. My friends Matt and Natalie were out there because Natalie was running the Grand Mesa 50 mile. I met up with them on the Friday before the race and stayed to crew for Natalie on Saturday. Natalie did awesome and was the 3rd female. It was fun to hang out and crew for her. That evening, I drove to Grand Junction, CO, before heading to Moab, Utah on Sunday.
    Moab was a bit of a culture and climate shock after being in Colorado for over 3 weeks. It was pretty crowded with tourists and HOT, like Las Vegas hot. The temperature in Silverton and Leadville  would be about 40 in the morning and maybe 65 in the heat of the day. Plus I was going up to 14,000ft most days on my runs, so the temperature at altitude was much cooler. Moab never got below 60 degrees, and daytime highs averaged 95. But it was a dry heat, so it didn't feel too bad compared to the humidity in Chattanooga. Thankfully I was able to camp in the LaSal mountains just outside of Moab. Because it was at 9,000 ft, the temperature was much cooler. I visited Arches and Canyonlands National Park, both of which were way more crowded than anywhere I had been in Colorado. I guess after being in the small towns for so long, I was kind of turned off by so many people. It was a unique landscape though, and I'm glad I got to see the area. The Tushars 93k race was on Saturday, August 1st near Beaver, Utah, so I headed there the Thursday before.
     The race started at Eagle Point ski resort at the top of the Tushar mountains. I was lucky enough to get a cabin at the resort on Thursday night, but everything was full on Friday. Granted I had been sleeping in my car for close to a month, so an actual room wasn't that big of a deal, but it is nice to have a real bed and shower the night before a race. Thankfully, the man who runs the resort was kind enough to rent me his condo for Friday night. It was only 5 minutes from the start which worked out perfectly.
     Fast forward to Friday evening. I went to packet pickup and the race briefing where race director Matt Gunn described the course as being technical, overgrown, and full of steep climbing. He said there were sections that weren't really a trail, but they were marked very well. As far as climbing goes, there was 17,000ft of elevation gain. That scared me a little bit. I had done 50k races with 12,00ft of gain, but the thought of 58 miles with 17,000ft of climbing on gnarly terrain had me at least a little anxious. It also made me excited though at the challenge of it, and Matt promised us it was a beautiful course. After hearing his briefing, I headed back to the condo to wind down and prepare for the early 5am race start.
     The 4am alarm came way too early, but I was eager to get going. I tried to eat a little breakfast and then drove to the start located at the Skyline Lodge at the top of the mountain. It was still pitch black dark, so I had to have a headlamp for the beginning of the race. Unlike Colorado, temperatures here were quite a bit warmer, even at altitudes of 9,000+ft. I was thankful for this though because I don't particularly like running in the freezing cold. It was probably around 50 degrees at the start, so I just wore a t-shirt with a light wind breaker on top. They had a big campfire going that runners could huddle around until it was time to go. At about 4:58, I walked to the start line where we waited for Matt to send us off. Right at 5am, he said "Go," and about 80 brave/crazy/scared runners headed off in the dark on what promised to be an all day adventure.
     We ran down a jeep road for about a 1/4 mile before turning left onto another jeep road and starting to climb. I was kind of glad that this first part was on a road rather than a trail because it was easier to navigate and run in the dark. I soon realized that my headlamp was a piece of crap, pitifully dull and providing little light to illuminate the ground in front of me. Luckily there was enough light from the other headlamps around me to provide plenty of light. We soon turned onto singletrack and continued climbing onto a ridge. At the top, you could see the sun just starting to rise over the mountains to the east. It painted the sky a beautiful pink/orange color that was spectacular. Unfortunately, this was a race, so I didn't have time to stop and take in the view. After running along the ridge for a short time, we descended on a rather technical, steep trail. Parts of it were nice and runnable but other parts were steep and loose dirt which provided no traction whatsoever. Add on the fact that it was still dark and it makes for some dicey running. Thankfully about 6:15ish, the sun was out enough to provide adequate light such that I was able to take off my headlamp. Somewhere in the first few miles, a runner named Emma, whom I had met Friday, ended up right behind me. We chatted as we made our way to the first aid station at mile 7.7.
     One of the many things that stood out about this race was the awesomeness of aid stations and the volunteers. As soon as I arrived, a volunteer offered to help me refill my pack and asked what I wanted to eat. I still had plenty of fluid, so I just hurried over to the table to see what looked appealing. Keep in mind this was only mile 7.7, but the aid station had a huge assortment of food, anything from your typical snacks to homemade pumpkin pie, banana nut muffins, biscuits, and even bacon hot off the skillet! I grabbed a pb&j quarter and headed out as quickly as I could. It was a little over 8 miles to the next aid station, including a summit of Delano Peak, the highest point on the course at over 12,000ft. We followed a nice dirt road for a bit before getting back on the trail and starting to climb. It had warmed up just enough at this point that I was able to take my jacket off. Weather was just about perfect.
     Soon after turning off the dirt road, the trail sort of disappeared, and I found myself in the middle of a mountain field without the slightest clue where to go. Thankfully I saw a small group of runners up ahead of me, so I ran in their direction. I couldn't see any markers but did eventually find a post that marked where the trail went. As a whole, the course was marked remarkably well, but because parts of it had to be marked several days in advance, there is always the chance that flags will get dislodged. Apparently, the pink and silver ribbons are also very attractive to deer and elk who like to eat them. When I caught up to the group ahead of me, we eventually located a marker and continued up until the trail was more defined. The climb wasn't so bad at first, but then it just got downright steep. Parts of it weren't on an actual trail, and the terrain was very rocky. Near the top, it the most difficult. Seeing the sign at the top which marked the summit was a relief as I knew that I was almost done climbing. There were several guys up here shooting video, and I just knew I was going to fall as they were recording me go by. Fortunately that didn't happen, but I did have a spectacular wipe out about 3 minutes later. The descent was equally as rock and technical as the ascent, making for some dicey running. Near the bottom, we popped out onto a dirt road and ran up to the aid station at mile 16ish. I quickly refilled my Camelbak, grabbed some food, and headed out on the next 7 mile stretch. So far, my notoriously finicky stomach was cooperating, and my legs felt good, both of which had me in good spirits.
     Because I had never been to the Tushar area before and didn't take much time to study the course map, I had no idea what to expect on each section as far as climbing goes. However, the overall theme seemed to be go up for a long way then go down and repeat. We were still pretty high up, so I figured there was some more downhill running before the next climb. This part of the course was on some amazing singletrack, smooth and offering sweet views of a turquoise lake way down below. I remember thinking to myself, "Man, I hope we go down there, so I can get an up close look at the lake." Sure enough, the trail wound around down the mountain before popping out right by the lake on a gravel road. It was a spectacular view. The only downside to being down at the lake was that we now had to climb right back up. At first, the gravel road was riddled with loose, chunky rocks that made any kind of forward progress difficult, but after a while, it got much smoother. Up, up, up I went until finally turning a corner and seeing the white tent that can only mean one thing...aid station. I again grabbed a handful of whatever food looked good and headed out down the dirt road that was also an ATV route called the Paiute Trail. This section was in great shape, smooth enough to drive any type of vehicle on, and was all downhill for the 3 miles to the next aid station. The combination of nontechnical terrain and downhill grade allowed me to make really good time on this segment, and before I knew it, I was at the 26ish mile Copper Belt aid station.
     From Copper Belt, runners did a 6.5 mile out and back, so I would be returning to this aid station. Because I hadn't studied the course map, I knew nothing about this section until a guy I caught up to said that we would be climbing 3.000ft up to Copper Belt peak. Oh well. So much for completing the 6.5 miles in an hour like I had hoped. We began climbing up some switchbacks that were not too steep but very overgrown. I managed to miss the turn to start another switchback and soon found myself looking around for a trail or pink flag. Nothing. I knew we had to go up, so I bushwhacked up the mountain a little bit and headed back toward where I had come from, hoping to be able to spot the trail from a higher vantage point. After several minutes of scrambling, I spotted a runner on the switchback down below and followed the trail up to my level. I had to bushwhack a little more to get there, but I was able to get back on course without too much trouble and didn't lose much time during the little off trail ordeal. Once we finished with the switchbacks, the trail got much steeper. I saw the lead guys around here, and the top 3 were all still pretty close to each other, so it was anybody's race. We got to where the trail turned into scree and loose gravel like rock. This type of terrain is very difficult because you have minimal traction on steep uphills. Each step I took, my foot would slide back down. I kept looking up thinking I would see the summit, but the first few times, it turned out to be a soul crushing false summit. Finally, I got to the top where runners had to use a hole punch to mark their bib and prove that they had reached the turnaround point. I was relieved to be on my way back to the aid station and get some downhill.
     One cool aspect of the out and back is that you get to see the runners who are both in front of and behind you. I had been running by myself for a large part of the day, so it was nice to see some people. I was also interested in how close the next few women were to me. I saw Emma coming up the mountain looking strong. This was her first ultra longer than a 50k. She sure picked a tough one! Coming in to the aid station at mile 33ish, I told the volunteers that I did not care for that section very much, and they said that the lead guys echoed this statement. I was encouraged when a volunteer told me that I had one of the fastest split times for this part. It sure didn't feel like I was moving very fast. From here, we climbed back up the dirt road called the Paiute Trail that we had descended earlier. Although it was a 3 mile uphill, this road was pretty runnable and not technical at all, so I was able to kind of zone out for a bit. The one downside was that there was a ton of ATV traffic by now. Every time a group would pass, I had to breath in exhaust fumes and dust for a few minutes. The ATVs were very courteous though and did slow down to go around us. Before too long, I came up on the aid station at mile 36. My stomach was rebelling at this point, making the food unappealing. I tried to grab a few things and nibble. If there was any consolation, the aid station captain told me that the next part was 7 miles of downhill singletrack. The thought of this made me happy because I hoped to be able to make up some time. It still would have been nice to feel better going in to this section though, but it is what it is.
     I wouldn't say that it was all downhill, but the next 5 or so miles of singletrack were very runnable, and we were definitely descending. The last 2ish miles before the Miner's Park aid station were on a jeep road that was all downhill until the last little bit when we climbed up to the aid station. I was finally coming out of my rough patch and was happy to see the volunteers' friendly faces. They had homegrown cantaloupe and watermelon in addition to all of the other typical food. I grabbed a huge slice of watermelon and headed out. The next aid station at mile 50 would be the last before the finish.
     Seeing as how we had basically been running downhill for 7 miles, I figured we had a beast of a climb coming up. Little did I know that was a huge understatement. The ascent started immediately but wasn't very steep at first. It was, however, on a totally overgrown trail with waist high grass. The only way I could see the way was from the guys in front of me who had knocked down the grass. Despite the lack of visible trail, it was marked well, and my mood was still good, so I didn't really mind. As I got higher up, the grass thinned out to the point that there was now a discernible trail. We climbed and climbed and climbed some more, switchback after switchback. Then it happened. I rounded a corner expecting to see another switchback, but instead, the trail just went straight up. It was so steep that I said out loud to myself, "You've got to be kidding me." With 46+ miles on my legs, it was just cruel. The level of suck definitely went up a few points here. Again, it is what it is, so I put my head down and tried not to look ahead as I made my way. Every once in a while I would let myself take a peek, but I swear it seemed to just keep going up and up. It turns out that this section was a 4,000+ft climb. At one point, I looked up and saw a gate ahead where the trail intersected. I made the turn and continued climbing on trail for a bit before it turned into that dreaded gravel/scree again. Remember that good mood I had leaving Miner's Park? Well it was long gone, and the rough patch had officially returned. If possible, the "trail" got even steeper. The worst part, though, was that every time I took a step, my foot slid back down. I couldn't even stop for a second because I would just start sliding down the mountain. There were numerous times when I found myself on all fours trying to scramble up to the next pink flag. And those damn pink flags kept going up and up. Every time I thought it was the top of the peak, it turned out to be a false summit. Then, by the grace of God, and I really mean that, I could see the actual summit ahead. It was still a little ways off, but at least I could see it. Two hours after leaving the previous aid station, I crested the summit and began the descent to the final aid station. I was cooked by now, so even the downhill was an effort, not to mention the fact that the first part was on the scree which offered no traction and was quite difficult to run. A couple miles of downhill later, I saw the glorious white tent of the Alunite aid station.
     As I ran in to the aid station, a kind volunteer refilled my pack with water while I grabbed a little food. I knew I should probably get something because we still had 8ish miles to the finish including a fair amount of climbing. It was the same 8 miles that we did to start the race. Just before I left, I looked back and saw what appeared to be a girl coming up the road about 100 yards away. I asked the volunteer if it was indeed a girl, and he said he thought it was. "Crap," I thought, as I pictured myself losing in the last few miles. I was ticked at myself and blew out of there as fast as I could, determined to do everything in my power not to let the person catch me. I tried to stay as positive as I could and just tell myself that all I could do was work as hard as possible to the finish. If I got caught, then so be it, but I was not going to make it easy. If nothing else, I got a boost of energy from the adrenaline and forgot about how bad my legs hurt for few miles. The next little bit had more downhill than I remembered, technical, but still very runnable. The trail then rolled along before climbing up to the ridge. I swear I was pushing so hard that I alternated feeling like I was going to puke and pass out. That half of a nutella sandwich wasn't sitting very well. Whenever the trail turned a corner, I took a quick glance back to see if I could see anyone, but thankfully it was all clear for the moment. After cresting the ridge, we had a nice downhill portion on singletrack before hitting the road that we climbed near the beginning of the race. I knew that at the bottom of this, the course would turn right uphill for the final stretch to the finish line. Before long, I reached the turn and took one last look back, and it appeared that I was still ok. Going up this last hill, I thought about the day and race as a whole. I always experience a range of emotions coming in to the finish of an ultra. Part of me is so glad to be done while the other part is sad that the experience is over. Race director Matt Gunn was there to greet me as I finished. All I could do was say "Wow."
     As soon as I stopped, it was like my body knew the race was over, and my legs just shut down. I literally hobbled over to a chair by the roaring fire and collapsed. I chatted with other runners for a little while, waiting to see how far back the lady was who I thought I had seen. As it turns out, this "lady" was actually a man wearing similar colored clothing as the woman had been. He was just too far off to tell the difference. Awesome. I just spent the last 8 miles killing myself for no reason. Oh well. It got me to the finish a good bit quicker :). I hung out for a few more minutes before forcing myself to get up and head back to my cabin to shower and pack up since I had to leave that day. Walking to my car, I realized that I had developed a nasty blister on the bottom of my left heel and ball of my foot. And by nasty I mean that there was basically no skin on the bottom of my foot. Seriously. If I had crutches, I would have used them without a doubt. Getting into the shower was downright excruciating. That pain, however, was surpassed by the wonderful feeling of finishing such a rugged yet beautiful course in a part of the world I had never seen. My month long adventure out west was coming to a rapid end, and the real world would set in soon seeing as how school started back in 3 days. I am so thankful to have been able to have this experience and hope to do it all over again next year. Thanks to everyone who was involved with the race. It truly was a spectacular, although cruel at times, event. I am beyond blessed to have the opportunity to run in the mountains      
   

Chattanooga Mountains Stage Race

The Chattanooga stage race is a fun filled weekend of summer time running and trying not to have a heat stroke. It consists of 3 days totaling 60 miles. Friday is 18 miles on Raccoon Mountain, Saturday is 22 miles on Lookout Mountain, and Sunday is 20 miles on Signal Mountain. I had done the stage race one previous time about 5 years ago and wanted to give it another shot, so I signed up. As a bonus, this year's weather looked to be hot and humid with lows in the mid 70s and highs in the mid 90s. Just how I like it!

Day 1: Raccoon Mountain- 18 miles
The first day is my least favorite for several reasons. First, I run on Raccoon quite a bit, so the course is very familiar to me. While this is an advantage in some ways, it also means that the scenery is not new. Next, for some reason, the idea of the task ahead seems huge on that first day. I had feelings of nervousness, excitement, and anxiety all at the same time. Getting that first race out of the way helps to settle everything down a bit and give me some confidence going in to the next 2 days.

The start of the race is at Laurel Point with only about 100 feet of pavement before hitting single track. For this reason, I positioned myself near the front to avoid the conga line of about 200 runners behind me. We started out running a pace a bit faster than I wanted to, but it always feels like that at the beginning. Everyone's adrenaline is pumping which inevitably means that someone shoots out of the start like a rocket and lures several others into following suit. There were 2 women in this front pack, so I figured it was in my best interest to stay up there as long as I could. After a couple miles, the pack thinned out a little bit and allowed for a little easier running to the first aid station at the East Overlook around mile 4.5. At this point, I was running with a couple guys, and the conversation definitely made time pass quickly. We got to the second aid station and entrance of the small intestine in what seemed like no time at all. I had chosen to wear my Camelbak for the race to avoid having to fill up or stop at any of the aid stations, so I just ran on by and started this 3.5ish mile section. The intestines are kind of like a twilight zone because they wind around and around and around. You never really feel like you are getting anywhere and you can see other runners above and below you without knowing if they are in front of or behind you. After what seemed like way longer than 3.5 miles our little group of runners exited the intestines and began the longest climb of the day up to the visitor's center and last aid station. I pushed fairly hard on this part, mostly just wanting to get it over with and was very happy to reach the top.

The last section of the course from the visitor's center to Laurel Point is probably the most technical and features a "bonus section" that takes you up a super steep hill then right back down an equally steep descent. I focused on getting this part completed and then just hanging tough to the finish. Our little pack had split up at this point, so I was running by myself. It was also pretty hot with the sun out in full force. I was ready to be done for sure. With about a mile left, a guy who I later learned was John Bruno passed me looking strong. There wasn't much I could do about it, so I tried to just keep him in sight until the finish. When we popped out on the pavement for the last 200 meters I saw race director Randy Whorton who said that John was the leader and I was 2nd. After crossing the finish line, John and I congratulated each other and talked for a few minutes. Neither of us had any idea that he was the leader, so it was a nice surprise for him to get the win. Shortly after finishing, the sky opened up and it rained hard for at least 20 minutes. I took cover under the massage tent until the rain stopped before heading out to get lunch and rest up for day 2.

Day 2: Lookout Mountain- 22 miles
After a restless night of sleep, I woke up to the sound of rain on Saturday morning. Thankfully it was supposed to stop before race time, so I didn't worry too much about it. This stage is my favorite because Lula Lake is gorgeous, the trails are very runnable, and it is an area that I don't often run. I got there around 7:30 and chatted with Will Barnwell, Yong, John, and several others until it was time to make our way to the start line. Today's course consisted of a loop within Lula Lake followed by an out and back to Covenant College and then the first loop in reverse plus an extra section. After a lady sang a spectacular version of God Bless America, Randy said "GO" and sent runners on their way down a gravel road. Matt Sims took the lead, and we ran at a good pace for the first mile or so down the road before taking a right turn onto single track and the infamous rope climb. This section is very technical and steep, hence the need for a rope to assist you climb up to the ridge. Once at the top, the trail is again very runnable as you continue to climb along the ridge for a mile or so. Because what goes up must come down, we soon turned onto an awesome section of trail that wound its way back to the creek at the bottom. Runners followed the creek before crossing a little bridge that brings you back to the start and first aid station. That first 5 miles seemed to fly by, but I knew that this next bit up to Covenant College would be a challenge because it is almost all uphill. I had done my best to mentally prepare for this section and was glad that I knew what to expect from having run it before. That didn't make it any easier though, and it seemed to take forever to get up to the aid station. Just before reaching the aid station, you pop out on a power line and climb this horrendously steep hill. Like a hands on your knees, cussing under your breath kind of steep. It was a relief to see Ginny and the other volunteers. I grabbed a PB&J quarter and headed out, happy to have the worst of the climbing over with.

The course continues to some of the Covenant cross country trails which are very wide and smooth. We rolled along for a bit before again turning onto single track and making our way back toward Lula Lake. I got to see several runners who were making their way out which was nice because I had been running by myself for quite some time. I also saw Eunice and Curt who were sweeping the course. It was fun to really open up on the way back to Lula due to all the downhill. It felt like I was back at the start/finish in no time at all with just the last loop to go. Somewhere around here John ran up behind me and we ran together for the next few miles. He was moving really well and pushed me to keep up a solid pace, even on the climb back up to the ridge. Once at the top of the ridge, I knew that the climbing was essentially over. All that was left was the downhill to the gravel road, including climbing down the rope section we ascended at the beginning, followed by a short section of trail along the creek and the final .5 mile stretch of gravel road. I think descending the rope portion is equally as difficult as climbing, especially on tired legs, but I managed to make it without falling which would surely have resulted in knocking a tooth out on all the rocks. I hit the gravel road for maybe a quarter mile and turned left onto the trail that follows the creek. This trail is very narrow and windy, making it difficult to run quickly, but it was over pretty quick. You then cross the creek which was about knee deep in places before hitting the final stretch of gravel road. I was stoked to finish this day feeling good with just one more day left. However, that last day is a monster due to the extremely technical terrain and steep climbs. I still think that the Lookout stage is the hardest because the climbs are longer yet runnable so you end up running harder for the 22 miles whereas the 20 mile stage on Signal is slower because it is just so technical. After finishing, I soaked in the creek for a few minutes and headed out to rest up for the final stage.

Day 3: Signal Mountain- 20 miles
Another bad night of sleep and it was time to run the final day of the stage race. I'm not going to lie I was feeling it on Sunday morning. My legs were pretty heavy and quads had a bit of soreness, but I figured most everyone else was in the same boat. I got to the start at the soccer fields and took some time to doctor my feet up. After day one, my pinky toes had awful blisters on them and I lost both toenails. Lovely I know. It was so bad after that first day that I didn't know how I was going to run Saturday. Luckily, a shoe change and taping my feet fixed the problem. Before long, it was time to line up at the start. The same lady sang again and did an outstanding job. Randy had Matt lead everyone out through the parking lot to the trail head because he said the race didn't start until we hit the trail. The first 1.5ish miles to mushroom rock are on jeep road, so I ran pretty hard to get in the front of the pack before descending to the swinging bridge. Once at mushroom rock, the course drops down the gorge to the bridge, ascends the other side, and then descends once again down to Suck Creek Road. Runners then turn around and go back the way they came to mushroom rock. This section is very technical and a constant up or down. I tried to bomb the downhills as best I could and run/power hike the climbs. It was clear from the start of the first climb that my legs were feeling the previous 2 days and 40 miles. When I got to Suck Creek Road, Nathan Holland and Michael Green were there working the aid station. It's always nice to see familiar faces and seems to lift my spirits. I turned around to head back, eager to see the runners making their way down. Because there was two way traffic on this part of the course, things got a bit sketchy a few times just due to the fact that the trail is so narrow. Nevertheless, it was cool to see other runners I knew and cheer each other on. It was a relief to get back to mushroom rock and make the right turn heading towards Edward's Point knowing that the worst of the climbs were done.

This next section is not my favorite because it is very technical, tends to get overgrown, and seems to take forever. However, there was nothing I could do about any of that, so I tried to stay positive and focus on making it to Edward's Point at mile 9.5ish. My stomach had not been happy since the start of the race, and I hoped it would eventually settle down. Alas, that was not the case. At least it didn't seem to be getting worse. When I was close to the aid station at Edward's Point, I heard someone yell my name and realized it was UTC cross country coach Bill Gautier. Again my spirits were raised simply by seeing a familiar face and hearing some encouragement. Coach Gautier said that Will was in the lead looking strong, and I really got the feeling that this was his day and his race to win. I grabbed some orange slices and continued down the trail toward Signal Point. It is only about 2.5 miles from Edward's Point to Signal Point, but I swear it feels like 5. The trail turns into a rock garden that descends then climbs back up, and the constant boulder field makes it impossible to get in any kind of running rhythm. When you get close to Signal Point, there is a series of stairs to climb up to the overlook that will absolutely suck the life out of you. Or at least me. Ginny and a bunch of other volunteers were here cheering runners on. I slammed a couple little cups of Mountain Dew and made my way up the road.

We ran along the road for maybe a half mile before turning left onto a gravel path and re-entering the woods. This part was mostly downhill, so I did my best to make up some time. I was running with John and one other guy at the time, and it was nice to have some company. The gravel path soon came to an end, however, and we were once again greeted with technical, rock laden trail. I think this part is called the Julie Trail. We descended down to a creek where the trail becomes less rocky but is very narrow and windy. In years past, this section has really been a battle for me mentally because it is pretty slow going and difficult to get into a rhythm. Knowing what to expect this year, I tried to embrace it and accept it for what it was. Thankfully, that worked fairly well, and it wasn't too long before I came up on the last aid station where Kris, Cass, and several others were working. From this point, it is only 3.6 miles of dirt road, trail, and gravel to the finish. My legs were trashed but my mood was good and I finally allowed myself to think about actually finishing this thing. That first bit of dirt road has several steep hills that I had to jog/hike, but once it was over, the remaining part is very runnable. I pushed as hard as I could make myself and knew the finish was getting close when I hit the gravel path that circles the school and soccer fields. As I exited the woods to run the last 200m of road to the finish, I had a mix of emotions from elation to a bit of sadness that this awesome experience was coming to an end.

All in all, the stage race was a wonderful experience. Over the course of 3 days, I had the opportunity to meet a bunch of really neat folks taking part in this same journey of running 60 miles in 3 days on some of the prettiest trails in the area. I feel truly blessed to be able to run, especially considering that this time a year ago, I had just had hip surgery. God has given me the ability to run, and I hope that I never take that for granted. Wild Trails did a spectacular job of organizing the event, and I truly appreciate all the volunteers for their time and effort over the weekend. If you have never done a stage race, I would urge you to give it a try.

Here are some final takeaways from the race:

• It's summer time in Chattanooga...it's going to be hot and humid so get over it
• That being said, hydration is critical both during and after each run. I sipped on Powerade Zero all day after every stage. Drinking something with electrolytes is important, not just water.
• It is possible to run fairly hard on all 3 days, but be smart about it. Going out too fast on day one can wreck your weekend.
• Never underestimate the benefits of a post race nap. I took one each day, and I think it really helped.
• Eating well after each day is also crucial if you want to recover. I made it a point to eat a solid lunch and dinner each day. 
• My Camelbak rubbed my collarbone and neck raw after one day. I should have used body glide. Lesson learned.
• The friendships formed in just 3 days of running together turned the stage race into something like a family. Watching other finishers and hanging out after each race was just as fun as actually racing. 

Link to results:

http://ultrasignup.com/results_event.aspx?did=31356

Quest for the Crest 50k

Wow. Where to begin? On May 31st, I ran the Crest for the Quest 50k. . The race was advertised as the hardest 50k out there with close to 12,000 feet of elevation gain, not change, but gain! It was easily the hardest 50k I have ever run and the hardest race mile for mile I have ever done. Like not even remotely close to anything else. Quest was also my first ultra after having hip surgery last June. I signed up several months ago with the idea that it would give me a long term goal to train for. Although my recovery went well, I had zero runs of 4 hours or more, so I really didn't know how my body would respond to running past this mark. Thankfully, I live by the motto of "just wing it" and tried not to doubt myself. Fast forward to race weekend and I was ready to run.

Pre-race:
My dad and I drove to Burnsville on Friday afternoon because he was running the 10k vertical kilometer on Saturday. We had previewed this part of the course back in March which proved to be very helpful in that he knew what to expect for his entire race, and I at least knew what the first part of the 50k was like. Dad and I stayed at Albert's Inn, an awesome little motel only 5 minutes from the race finish and also the site of packet pick up. After getting dinner on Friday, we went back to the motel to rest up. I was thankful to have another day before the 50k to chill.

On Saturday morning, I drove my dad to the shuttle pick up for the 10k where he loaded the bus to the start. The trail head is literally in the middle of nowhere with only 2 parking spots, so you were not allowed to park at the start. The finish is very similar meaning that the shuttles also had to take runners back to where they originally parked. I just went for a shake out run and waited for dad to get back. Weather was awesome, overcast and not too hot. I hoped that it would stay like that for the 50k Sunday despite the fact that there was a 90% chance of rain. Before too long, the shuttles returned, and dad hopped out looking pleased. He said he had a good race but felt like he had run 50k. The 10k course consisted of about a 2.5 mile climb where you gain over 3,000 ft of elevation followed by about 4.5 miles of downhill. The climb is brutal in every sense of the word. Nonstop climbing from the start, the kind of climbing where you are bent over, hands on your knees sucking air. And the last mile requires you to use your hands to pull yourself up because it is so steep. Fortunately, the downhill is much more runnable and allows you to make up quite a bit of time if you don't mind risking a nasty fall while bombing the somewhat technical downhill.

After chatting for a bit with other runners, we headed to lunch and then up to Mt. Mitchell to scout out a trail that dad would need to take to meet me at a crew access point on Sunday. The rest of Sunday was spent relaxing at Albert's and listening to race director Sean Blanton's pre race briefing at packet pickup. Runner's had to board the shuttle at 4:30a.m., so dad and I ate an early dinner and tried to get some rest.

About the Quest for the Crest 50k:
This race is unlike any other in the East in that it has over 11,000 feet of elevation gain. Most of that comes from 3 separate climbs of over 3,000 feet each. The first climb is at the very beginning of the race and is by far the steepest and most technical. You ascend 3,000+ ft in about 2.5 miles and then descend in about 4.5 miles. Runners then go right back up what they just came down to make the second climb of the race. Once at the top, the course follows the Crest Trail for several very technical, rolling miles until you descend 3,000ft down Colbert's Creek Trail. The final climb is on the Buncombe Horse Trail and is the longest of the 3. Oh and Sean, the RD, decided to make things even harder by having runners do an out and back up Big Tom Gap once at the top of Buncombe. This .4 mile spur trail is basically like rock climbing it's so steep. You then have the pleasure of climbing down before continuing on the Buncombe trail for 2.7 miles before making the final descent into Black Mountain campground, the finish line of the race.

Race day:
I won't lie, the 3:40a.m. wake up call was less than desirable, but I was excited about the day ahead. After drinking a cup of coffee and getting my gear ready, dad drove me to the shuttle pick up area which was also the finish of the race. I loaded the bus and rode the 20 or so minutes to the start. The race started at 6a.m., so the sun was just coming up. It was a bit chilly, but I knew that it would feel good once we started running. Sean had us start .7 miles down the road from the trailhead to allow everyone to spread out before hitting the trail. After some final instructions, we gathered at the start and waited for Sean to say "GO". I tried to settle into a steady pace. The road was a constant uphill, so it wasn't exactly an easy warmup. I was thankful when we hit the trail, but that only meant that things got a whole lot steeper! The first mile is old road bed that is somewhat runnable depending on the grade. I alternated running and walking on this section trying to go hard but not completely red line in the early stages of the race. After that first mile, it turns into single track, crazy technical oh my gosh steep single track. At this point, I gave up on trying to run and focused on power hiking as fast as I could. I was thankful that I had done this climb before when my dad and I visited back in March because I at least knew what to expect. Before too long, I reached the top where you intersect with the Crest Trail, take a right, and begin the descent to Bowlen's Creek. It was around this point that I caught up to the 2 women who were in front of me on the climb. We ran most of the downhill together and talked a bit which made the time go much faster.

 This gives you an idea of the steepness of the climb

After descending the 3,000 feet to Bowlen's Creek, runners hit the first aid station. Since it was only mile 7.5 and I was running with Hillary and Rebecca, I decided not to stop at this aid station. I started the race with 40 ounces of fluid in my Camelbak and figured I could make it to the next aid station before needing to refill. Mistake number 1. Hillary, Rebecca, and I turned around the way we came and began climbing the mountain we just descended. After about 2 minutes, Hillary took off and left me in the dust. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it, so I just hoped to make up some time later in the race (that didn't happen). Rebecca and I stayed close for a while before spreading out. I still felt pretty good on this climb and did my best to run most of it. Because this part of the course was an out and back, you got to see all the runners who were either on your way down if they were ahead of you or on your way back if the were behind. It was cool to se the lead guys crushing the climb. The top is the steepest and most technical, so I found myself power hiking the last mile or so. About a mile from the top, a guy was stationed with water for people who needed to fill up, but I again passed on this opportunity. Mistake number 2. Once at the top, we continued on the Crest Trail for 3ish miles to Colbert's Ridge. It was at the top of the climb that I realized I was completely out of water. The next aid station was 8 miles away. I reflected on my decision to skip refilling despite only carrying 40 ounces of fluid. I realized that I was pretty stupid for thinking I could go 18 miles on this much to drink. Nothing I could do about it now, so I just focused on trying to make good time to the next aid station. That 3 miles of Crest Trail was less than easy. The grass was overgrown on both sides of the trail which was more like a 6 inch wide ditch full of big rocks hidden by the grass. Needless to say, you couldn't exactly fly on this part. When it wasn't a grassy ditch, the trail was super rocky like the first climb and had a lot of up and down. This section was also very exposed, and the sun was out which made it pretty hot. I could tell that I was dehydrated as my mouth was completely dry and my legs felt like they were on the verge of cramping. All I could think about was getting got the bottom of Colbert's Creek where there was an aid station. After what seemed like forever, I reached the intersection with Colbert's Ridge which is where runners descend for the second time. Thankfully, there was an EMT stationed there who was kind enough to give me several sips of his water. It tasted like heaven. I turned down the trail with my spirits lifted now that my mouth wasn't so dry that it stuck together. I had run this section when dad and I visited so I again knew what to expect. The first mile or so is like a rock garden, super technical and slick. I went as fast as I could without being totally reckless and made it through to the less rocky part of the trail. From here, you can run fairly consistently at a good clip to the bottom. It seemed longer than when I had done it before, but then again, I was feeling the miles and was very thirsty. I could tell that my quads were already semi-trashed from the 6,000 feet of downhill running we had done thus far.

Views at the top of the climb were spectacular

Coming in to that aid station was a relief. My dad was there, and I immediately told him that I needed to fill up with Gatorade which is what I had been drinking. He went to work refilling my Camelbak while I looked at the food at the aid station table. My stomach had been jacked since the start, so I had not eaten anything in the first 18 miles. Mistake number 3 (they are adding up quickly). I grabbed a PB&J quarter and a cookie and took off down the road. Runners had to run on the pavement for maybe 3/4 of a mile to the Bumcombe trailhead. Shortly after heading down the road, I realized how shot my legs already were. I was definitely at a low point, and it was all I could do to maintain a slow jog. It was somewhat of a relief to hit the trail again, but that relief soon faded when the trail became a rocky creek bed that was very difficult to run on. The first 2 or so miles were a gentle uphill grade, but the technicality made it tough to keep a good pace. Plus I was feeling awful, so this section was more of a jog/hike. Unfortunately, it would only get worse. After the first few miles, the Buncombe trail got steeper and steeper. And steeper. Sean had referred to this part as "switchback hell," which was definitely appropriate. I swear it seemed like they went on forever. I was cussing the Buncombe trail at this point and praying to get to the top. Finally the trail opened up to a grassy area similar to the Crest Trail. It flattened out and was much more runnable. This was a relief, but I knew that I still had the climb up Big Tom Gap. I was still smack dab in the middle of my bonk which lasted the better part of 2 hours. A short time after running along the flat portion of Buncombe, I reached a group of several EMTs who were set up at the intersection of the Big Tom Gap trail. They were extremely kind and offered to get me something to eat and/or drink. However, all I could think about was getting that climb out of the way, so I declined and made the right hand turn to go up. This out and back section was .4 miles one way, and runners were supposed to stamp their bib at the turn around. The way out is straight up, like rock climbing straight up. It was here where I hit the low point of the race. I honestly felt like I was going to pass out and felt very wobbly. My stomach was still jacked, but I knew I needed to take in some sugar, so I forced a GU in, and it actually tasted pretty good. The salted caramel flavor is my new favorite because it tastes like dessert, has elevated electrolytes, and 40mg of caffeine. When I reached top, there was a photographer there who said I looked pretty rough to which I replied "I feel pretty rough". I stamped my bib and turned around to head back down. Several minutes after beginning the descent, I saw Rebecca on her way up. She couldn't have been more than 5 minutes behind me at this point. Seeing her was probably a good thing because it lit a fire in me to get my butt moving. Also, the GU was kicking in, and I was finally coming out of my bonk.

                      Running along a flat stretch of the Buncombe Trail just before the final descent

When I got back down to the intersection with the Buncombe trail, the EMTs again offered to get me some food or water which I again declined because I didn't want to take the time. Mistake number 4. I knew I had 2.3 miles left until I made the turn down the final descent into Black Mountain campground and the finish line. All in all it was about 6.5-7 more miles. However, about 1/2 mile after heading down the trail, I once again ran out of Gatorade. Fortunately, I was feeling a million times better, and the trail was very runnable, so I maintained a solid pace on this part. Before long, I saw my dad who had hiked in from Mt. Mitchell. He gave me all the Gatorade he had left which was about 4 ounces and told me that I was close to the trail that runners took to descend off the mountain. All I had to do was make it 4.5 miles down a rocky descent, and I would be home free. The top portion of the trail was the most technical, but not too bad, and I was smelling the barn big time, so I took some chances and went as fast as I could. As you got further down the trail, it was less technical but still quite rocky in places. My quads were absolutely shot at this point, making my run more like a free fall because I was limited in my ability to slow myself down very quickly. It seemed to take an eternity to reach the bottom of the mountain, but I eventually popped out an a gravel path in the campground. I ran along this for maybe 1/2 mile before seeing a field and the finish line. Words cannot describe how happy I was just to be done running. Sean was there to shake my hand and his incredibly sweet mother saw to it that I got something to drink seeing as how I had been out of Gatorade for the last 5 miles. My legs were already painfully sore, but it was that satisfying sore that comes from knowing you worked hard. My dad had not made it back to the finish yet from Mt. Mitchell, so I plopped my butt down in the field to watch other runners finish.

Post race thoughts:
1. This was the hardest race I have ever done. Period. I have run other 50k races more than 3 hours faster and a 50 mile race in only 10 more minutes than it took to run Quest for the Crest.

2. The climbing was insane, but the downhill is what trashed my quads. I should have practiced running downhill for an extended time.

3. The technicality of the course was also insane. Even on the flatter sections, which were few and far between, it was very technical.

4. The difficulty of the Quest was matched by its beauty. Views on top of the mountain were spectacular. It made it all worthwhile.

5. I absolutely, without a doubt, dropped the ball when it comes to my hydration and nutrition for this race. Simply put, I was careless to the point of stupid regarding hydration. Yes the aid stations were spread out, but there was no excuse for me to run completely out of fluid TWICE for extended periods of time. This was due to my failure to take the time to fill up when I had the opportunity. It definitely came back to haunt me as I believe it contributed to the 2+hour long bonk and thus slowed me down considerably. In a race where I should have consumed at least 4 liters of fluid, I had 2.5. My nutrition was practically nonexistent. Some of this was due to an unhappy stomach the whole time, but I should have just forced myself to try to eat more than I did. For the duration, I consumed one GU, a quarter of a PB&J, and several orange slices. Yes, I know thats bad.

6. The Quest for the Crest was incredibly well put on from start to finish. The logistics of this race were super difficult given the fact that it was so remote and required shuttles to the start. Aid station workers had to hike supplies in over 4 miles and up a mountain on several occasions. Water had to be purified from a mountain spring. You get the idea. Nevertheless, Sean "Run Bum" Blanton did an outstanding job as RD. I have never run a race with better course markings. The finish line was great with plenty of food, and you even had access to showers in the campground.

7. It took me 3 days to be able to walk normally. My quads and calves were very sore, but I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. I look forward to next year and trying to improve upon some of the mistakes I made this year.

8. Thanks to Sean, his parents, all the volunteers, the EMTs, and my dad for being there to crew. Most importantly, I thank God for giving me the opportunity to spend a day in woods exploring the beautiful mountains he created.

Results: http://ultrasignup.com/results_event.aspx?did=30866
http://ultrasignup.com/results_event.aspx?did=30866