This notorious race in Wartburg, Tennessee saw many highs and lows and ended with another DNF.
Two Days Before: September 15, 2022
After Sean ran his six-o trail race over labor day weekend, he and I talked about the idea about how day before travel takes a lot out of us. For that reason, I decided to leave for the race on Thursday to at least get a few miles under my belt before the Friday drive. Driving straight from Hattiesburg, Wartburg, TN is only about seven or seven and a half hours away, so I decided to drive to Birmingham the night before. Being frugal, though, meant that I didn't want to spend any money to do so, so I was able to find a Courtyard by Marriott on the far end of the city. This meant that I was away from the commuter traffic when it would be time to leave in the morning.
Since I got a bit of a late start after a long day, I didn't get into the hotel in Titusville, AL until nearly 9, but that was fine, and I was able to unpack my pre-packed dinner, eat and do some yoga to get to bed at a decent hour. I've heard that the night before the night before the race is critical because we often can't control the night before, with an early wake up and all that. I slept in a bit, and was able to get a solid 7 hours of sleep, which is above average for me.
Day before: Sept 16
Despite wanting to get on the road early, I did have some work to do that morning. After one Zoom call and then working on some admin work for my job, I was finally able to get on the road around 10-10:30. Unfortunately, after stopping for gas and starbucks, I was turned aournd and it took a bit to get back on track. The drive into the mountains from Birmingham always inspires me, and as I drove into the mountains of North Georgia and then Tennessee, I was reminded how much I love that part of the country that really isn't that far away. I normally go camping and hiking in this area during the summer, but for the first time in over a dozen years, I didn't drive to appalachians this past summer. Only then did I realize how invigorated and optimistic the mountains make me.
Making this drive alone is a bit tricky since I was surrounded with dread. This race is notorious. I had been sharing the pictures of bloody, battered and bruised runners to everyone I knew to give them a sense of the craziness that I was about to embark on. I had no idea if I was prepared for this race or not. I had not focused on hills or even trails as I prepped for this race and I was wondering if I had made a huge mistake.
Training for the BFC
After I finished Burning River 100 , I had to come to realize something that I hadn't really prepared for. My optimistic self had signed up for both BFC on Sept 17, which is an epic undertaking, and two weeks later, I was going to go for a Boston Qualifying time at the Medtronic Twin Cities Marathon on October 2nd. It was only in August that I realized that getting my speed up for a BQ attempt and getting my hill climbing/trail running ready for BFC were going to be be competing for my training time. I decided to opt for being ready for the BQ. I felt more prepared for that and that had been a goal for over 20 years of marathon running. I figured my speed couldn't hurt as I got ready for BFC, I just wouldn't have that as the primary goal. Ultimately, I should have realized that having two "A" races two weeks apart is not feasible. But more about that later.
Packet Pick-up
The drive was slow in places as I was trying to take a couple work calls, and continue to fuel and stretch as I made my way north. Eventually, I made it to Wartburg and the packet pick-up at the Wartburg community center. As I walked up, there was the man himself, Lazarus Lake greeting runners and sitting for selfies. I ended up being too shy to get one, so I guess that will have to wait until next time. I got my packet, including the super secret map of the course, and then I made my way inside to meet folks and wait for the pasta dinner. I had a nice chat with a runner that was a bit older like me, who came with his friends from Pennsylvania. There were a couple other runners I chatted with, one from Chattanooga and another from the Birmingham area. There were several folks standing around examining the map, but since I didn't know the trails, it didn't mean much to me.
After dinner, they were showing the Big Barkley documentary, but since I had watched it just the week before, I decided to go and find my airbnb which was in a town about 20 minutes away from the course. I got in, made my dinner and started organizing all my stuff for my vest. It was a cute little peaceful cabin out in the woods and the quiet setting was perfect for settling down the night before a big race.
Morning of the Race
I got up a couple hours before the race, ate my typical breakfast of peanut butter and bagel, drank some electrolyte and picked up what felt like a way too heavy vest. Among other things that you get in the packet is a metal compass since while the course is better marked than the Barkley Marathons, there are several junctures where you can get lost. I decided to leave this and the map since I wasn't sure if the map would be much help and it was pretty heavy. I packed a decent amount of food because when they mentioned aid station, they only discussed water and electolytes.
I made it to the park by about 6:00, giving myself an hour or so to settle before the start. I got to the porta potties once and it was pretty quiet. Then I went back around 6:30 and the traffic had picked up. I met a racer from Florida who runs BFC as his only trail race each year and then I met the only other racer from Mississippi that I saw, a guy from Meridian who ran in sandals (Glenn) who had finished the BFC 5 or 6 times before. The raod racer from Florida assured me that training for Twin Cities marathon was a good call.
The start
We started right at 7 and I was pretty far in the back. I knew that we were chip timed and the advantage of being up front wasn't worth the frustration of being packed and passed at the start. The race started in the main part of the park, going by campers with their RVs and trucks as we eventually made it to the yellow gate that is the symbol of the Barkley Marathons.
At that point, we got onto a jeep road and continued our ascent. Laz warned us not to walk all the uphills or we wouldn't stand much of a chance of getting the finishers prize the much desired "croix". I took this to heart and did a run/hike as best I could to pass as many as I could and we made our way to the first aid station where we go our bibs punched and could get some water. I got the punch, skipped the water and then started my way down the "bird" trail that we were now going to pound down until the next aid station.
As we made our way down, there were some folks that were simply flying. I knew what my body could do and what it couldn't but the traffic and the pacer runners was infectious and so I started going a bit quicker. It was at this point that I started chatting with a couple guys. One younger guy from Ohio that told me very confidently that even though he had just been pulled from the lottery about 7 days before and hadn't trained for it, that he was confident that he could finish. At this point, I had no such confidence. The other guy was for Louisville and a bit older and a bit quieter and we kept a fairly even pace even as folks pounded down the hill, passing us by.
The downhill was finally met with a section of uphill, and not studying the course map well, I wasn't quite sure where we were. One of the features of this race is that there are no GPS watches allowed. I was able to make it to the first aid station about 30 minutes ahead of the cutoff. That was at about the 3.5 mile mark according to the map, but we needed to get to the next aid station in just a couple hours. The pace I was keeping was solid, but the traffic made it hard to watch for rocks and roots and eventually, I tripped with a pack of runners right behind me. As I got up and brushed myself but my calf seemed to cramp up in the fall. I was moving along ok, but decided to take it easy for the next 10 minutes or so and eventually I was able to run fluidly again.
Second aid station, second climb
As I made it into the second aid station to get my bib punched, clear the second cutoff by only only about 15 minutes. In other words, instead of padding to my cushion, I ended up losing time. The next big climb was the chimneys trail, and I knew this one was going to be a challenge. There was the longest gap between aid station and without GPS, it was hard to tell how well I was doing and making progress. All the efforts to get up the hill caused me and several of the other runners around me to start taking short breaks on the rocks as we made our way up. There a couple very encouraging runners around us that pushed us on, then I fell in behind a French (or possibly French Canadien) couple that were easy to keep pace with as we made our way down. They convinced me at some point that we had just a mile to go to the next aid station, so I pushed some more and made it in with 45 minutes to spare.
The Big Three
After a long climb up a forest road, we made it to the top of a lookout tower and then it was time to head down ratjaw. If you've seen the Barkley Marthons movie, you know that this is one of the three powerline trails. What this means is that it's not really a trail. You cannot access this trail during any time besides the race and the trail is not cleared. There may be some wildlife that use the trail but it is completely overgrown with brambles. This meant that you have to hack your way through the brambles to make it down the nearly 1500 feet in less than a mile and a half. The downhill is uneven, slippery and covered in thorns. I had leather gardening gloves, but my shirt, shorts, and arms were completely ripped up by the time I made it to the bottom.
At the bottom, you cross into the Brushy Mountain State Pen historic site. You run under the prison through a creek, bounce out of the other side, climb over the wall, on a ladder, and then round the prison. As you're doing so, you keep seeing tourists there for the restaurant, distillery or prison tours. Tons of foreign sports cars that were touring the mountains pull in together as these dirty, sweaty, bloody runners stream by. Most had no idea what we were doing. After a quick aid station, which I made it to just under an hour cushion, we head out to the second of the three big hills. This one was testicle specticle, which you climb up and then crossing over a road you head down meth lab. As we were going down meth lab, people kept telling us of ice cold coke and pizza at the turn. This was encouraging but as I pulled into the turn around, they just had finished off the pizza. Nonetheless, I sat down and drank two full cans of coke that I poured over ice, since by that point my stomach wasn't handling anything that wasn't cold or hot.
Once I got up and got moving, I now knew it was just a matter of chasing cutoffs. As I made it up meth lab, down TS and then into the aid station, I was able to get a bit of a Dr. Pepper off a kid at the aid station, since these were the only calories I could get in my system, that was vital. I made the climb up Rat Jaw, I would stop to catch my breath every now and then. I made it up to the top and the aid station with 10 minutes to spare meaning that I would be chasing cutoffs from the on out.
Decision Point
The last aid station before the end is at decision point. This is where this race becomes the ultimate mind fuck that it is. If you get there before the cutoff, which is at 11 hours 30 minutes in, then you can decide wether you want to go for 50k or finish with just a marathon. You have to tell Laz at this point what your decision is and he warned me that I was in "the grey zone". I would have to hustle to make it but there was a chance. For me, there was no decision, I knew that I came for the 50k and that a marathon was worse than a DNF. I headed back up the hill that we came down after the first aid station and it was a slog. Half a dozen people passed me and near the top of the bird trail, I stopped to vomit the minimal contents of my stomach. At that point, I started running on and off again aong the cumberland trail and eventually we started heading down.
We finally made it to the cutoff trail where there was a sign saying "Only 1 mile to go". At this point, I had 25 minutes to finish the race, so I felt confident that I would make it so long as Laz was lying only a little. As the time ticked closer and closer to 8:20, I kept hearing the sounds of the finish, but then we would divert away. My heart began sinking as we made it to another juncture and the course monitor told us we really had to haul ass. I didn't have it in me. As I got closer to the finish, I ran harder, but I ended up coming in 3 minutes after the cutoff.
The aftermath
When I came in, I just lay down. I met a local legend as I was running meth lab, a guy named Noresh who had biked from India to Germany (here's a link to his documentary). He was lying in the grass, too, having finished a minute ahead of the cutoff. I was completely spent. I grabbed a cold pepsi from the dinner, unable to eat anything. I bundled myself up and just shook with exhaustion. I eventually made it out of the park, bought a pizza at a local pizza parlor, but couldn't eat it until nearly midnight once my body settled down.
All it all, it was a great experience and a great race. I handled the conditions well, but couldn't quite muster the energy on the final push up the mountain. 13 hours and 23 minutes wasn't good enough. Next year (if I get in) or next time, I will come with more focus adn more willingness to push hard in those moments when it seems I cannot.
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