Ozark Trail 100 2011

Well, the good news is that I finished. Three for three still with a goal of ten for ten in the tenth year. Also, I got to see & spend time with a lot of good folks that I’ve been missing since my move to Colorado this summer. Paul, Stu, Deb, James, Darin, Darcy, Coleen, Debbie, Steve, Cindy, Shelley, etc – great to have your smiling faces around. J

The bad: I still haven’t figured this race out. I want to say there’s nothing good out of the experience other than finishing, but that wouldn’t be true. However, rather than go into all of that, with the number of people who came up to me mentioning how helpful they found my past race reports, I’m going to write this less about my experience (I think) and more adding on to an overview of the race.

Bass River Resort is a wonderful place for a race headquarters – large complex of lodges, cabins, camping sites, public showers, managers who fully support the race and beautiful Ozark country for miles in every direction, 9 miles from the closest town (which does have a grocery store). The main lodge is a fine hang-out place, with open Wi-Fi access and a well-equipped (and pricey) general store. The individual cabins are all within easy walking distance of the main lodge, where all the race activities take place. Two downsides are no internet access in the cabins, as well as the resort itself being in a cell-phone dead zone. This is true of Sprint, Verizon & T-Mobile that I know of. If you stand on the southeast corner of the upper level deck of the main lodge, you can typically get one bar, enough to make a call if you can curb the pacing-while-talking habit.

We had absolutely perfect weather this year – 60’s and sunny for pretty much the entire weekend. Lows in the mid-30’s, which of course meant it was the usual 10 degrees cooler in some of the creek bottoms. Clothing-wise, I spent the morning in a jersey with light jacket, afternoon in just the jersey, evening with a heavy long-sleeve over the jersey and extra jacket tied around the waste, and adding the jacket once the witching hour rolled around. Of course, as I told the RD Paul, weather this perfect this year means that next year will be…the blizzard year. We know it will happen – early November in Missouri - one of these first ten years will be a blizzard year. I foolishly look forward to it.

One other note on the weather – it had been an immensely dry fall in the Ozarks – less than a tenth of the usual amount of rain. This mean two things: First – a high risk for fire. There was a 5000’ acre fire approximately 20mi west of the starting point during the week leading up to the race. Thankfully, the forest service got it under control with the help of some much-needed rain on the Thursday before the race. Second – that much-needed rain drastically altered the creek-crossing forecast from when the RDs had marked the course the previous weekend. Rather than there being only two realistic foot-wetting spots (Bee Fork 14.1 & Lost Creek 79.8), each less than 3mi before drop bags, enough creeks and drainage ditches were higher than expected that I spent at least 60mi with unexpectedly wet feet, which led to some bad blister problems.

Hills – everyone always asks what the worst hills on a given course are. Ozark has no huge hills, nor especially tough ones, but of course everything’s relative. There are at least 1/2mi climbs after a creek crossing around mile 11, and leading up to Billy’s Branch aid station. Also, 9 of the 13 aid stations are located in valleys (hollows), with medium to large climbs out of them – particularly Stilwell & Johnson Hollows. Finally, the last section of the course always sneaks up on you. You leave Henpeck Hollow (mi 95) and seem to making decent progress along a gradual downhill towards the river & (you hope) the finish. Finally you catch sight of the river and some buildings, and hope builds that you are nearly there. Don’t be fooled – there are 4 quad-busting climbs in the last 4 miles that seem quite pointless – you go back & forth along ridges up from the river, teasingly twisting towards & away what your brain tells you is the direction of the finish line, up & down what feels like the same two hills without making any progress. These hills would be nothing too special in the early part of the race, but at this stage, coupled with the seeming lack of direction/purpose, they can be a heavy load mentally. You aren’t home free until you cross over the ridgeline and start down a long, switchbacking shallow downhill that dumps you out on a mown path next to a fenced pasture – a mile to go at this point.

Aid stations – as always, Ozark has rock stars at the aid stations. I may be biased – it’s a good feeling to look at the pre-race aid station captain list and know all but two names – I get to run my race friend-to-friend. J Several aid station crews pull double shifts – with OT100 being point-to-point, AS crews have time to take an early stage station, pack it up, and move to a later location in time to serve all runners at each. These double-duty folks – Cindy Schoenlaub, Dennis Haig, Steve Breeding and more are truly amazing endurance aiders.

Start to Grasshopper (8.0mi) – most of the way will be in the dark. I usually forget to put a decent headlamp in my start supplies until I’ve already placed my best & second-best in drop bags. The start location isn’t anything significant – just a place on a road where the trail crosses. If you’re driving to see the course ahead of time, you will likely not even recognize it for what it is. Everyone crowds into the 15 yard space between the road & the start line. If you’re someone who likes to go out hard, get up front – it’s tight single-track very quickly, and with the dark & brambles, passing is not suggested. No major hills, but high briar potential – I got scratched up in ’09 & ‘10. Thanks to the low rain & good trail maintenance, these were at a minimum in 2011.

Grasshopper Hollow (mile 8.0) – you won’t see it until you’re less than 100 yards out. Quick in-and-out, drop off your (labeled) headlamp, grab a bite, high-five one of the RDs, and head out. At the top of a small hill.

Grasshopper to Sutton (9.6mi) – It always goes faster than you expect – sun’s up, you’re warmed up, watch that you’re not pushing the pace too much. Watch the flags as you cross the clearing under the power lines a couple miles out of Grasshopper – there will be markings from other races that can lead you on the wrong direction if you’re not paying attention, and I’ve had to chase down runners who went off course here each year. Potential for foot wetting around mile 11, with a decent climb immediately after. Gradual climb up Sutton Bluff, and then long fun descent down to the aid station. This will also be one of the roughest parts of the course, footing-wise. A big ice storm in the winter of ’08-09 knocked down over a third of the three in some sections of the forest, and giant root holes from where trees were close to the trail formed. These get repaired bit-by-bit each year, but there’s still plenty of tripping points and the need for strong ankles.

Sutton Bluff (mile 17.6) – the best views of the entire race come from the cliff leading up to the aid station. You’ll catch glimpses of the campground by the river while still at the top of the bluff about 2 miles out from the aid station. It’s a bit further than expected – while still on the bluff, look for the concrete bridge across the river – that’s where you’re running to. You actually run a wide partial circle around the aid station before pulling in. First crew point is here at mile 17.6, but with the next crew point not until mile 43.5, I usually advise my crew to sleep in, skip Sutton, and not meet me until Brooks Creek. I’ve never needed crew that early in a 100miler. For local folks running OT, this can help if your crew can’t make it to the race until Saturday – the front runners don’t hit Brooks until after Noon, and mid-packers around 3-4p. My first year, my crew drove in from Kansas City, didn’t leave until mid-morning Saturday (plenty of time to sleep in) and just met me at Brooks.

Sutton to Stilwell (5.2mi) – trail stays rough, but better. About a half-mile of uphill pavement out of the aid station to the trail – I usually grab a bunch of eats and chow down while walking this section. Mid-morning in the Ozarks – enjoy the beauty. Creek crossing right before the aid station.

Stillwell Hollow (mile 22.8) – one of the least vital aid stations, just coming out of the major & crewed station at Sutton and just having traversed the shortest distance between aid stations on the entire course. Refill your water and grab a sandwich to munch on the uphill out of the aid station.

Stilwell to Johnson (5.2mi) – trail continually improving from rough, partially-filled in root holes & rocks to more even runnable single-track. I always advise taking the first 40mi easy, because they are much rougher than the later stages – it is a rather uneven, rocky trail at first, but if you have legs later on, you can really make some time. Mile long, runnable downhill into Johnson.

Johnson Hollow (mile 28.0) – It can be muddy/wet in the grass road leading up to the aid station. Still in the sequence of short distances between aid, rinse & repeat from Stilwell – top off the bottle & grab some munchies for the hill after the road crossing 100 yards out from the aid.

Johnson to Gunstock (6.8mi) – In this section is where I usually start feeling the miles, and start imagining the aid station is each moss-covered rock I see around a bend a half-mile up. You run up to the aid station is along a ridgeline, parallel & about 20 yards below a road you probably won’t be able see. The aid station is visible maybe a quarter mile out sitting on the ridgeline you’re running – no significant climb/descent to get to it.

Gunstock (mile 34.8) – One of two drop-bag without crew access aid stations, and I always stash an extra handheld water bottle here. You’ve got one of the longer stretches (8.7mi) from here to Brooks coming up, and it will be in the hottest part of the day. While it may not be all that warm, I always like to have the buffer in case my water consumption is higher than expected – I ran dry halfway between Gunstock & Brooks in ’09. This is typically where I pick up my MP3 player. I typically think the race in thirds: First 1/3 moving along for the sheer joy of it, feeling fine while fresh & plenty of people around to chat with. Then the second 1/3 my music motivates me to keep running when I may be less apt to. The third 1/3 is then with my pacer (from Hazel Creek) providing the motivation/distraction.

Gunstock to Brooks Creek (8.7mi) – Warmest part of the day, terrain getting more even & runnable with each mile. About three miles out from Brooks, the trail shifts into a well-groomed slight downhill for almost the entire way into Brooks. I have had my first real low of the race two out of three years coming out from Gunstock, and this downhill coupled with the knowledge of a crewed aid station with plenty of energy and hubbub coming up has brought my spirits up very well each time.

Brooks Creek (mile 43.5) – first significant crewed aid station, and first place to potentially pick up a pacer. You hear the cheers & catch flashes off of parked cars at least a half-mile out, and it’s a joyous downhill leading on in to the melodious sound of a cowbell. Back of the packers will want to pick up a light here, and perhaps an extra jacket. Mid packers may want to stash an extra light here, just in case something goes very south & you roll in later than expected. The aid station itself is located on a road where the trail crosses – no clearing on the side of the road for the aid – so occasionally local traffic will pass thru its midst. Crews – please pay very close attention to the pre-race instructions about parking, as this can easily turn into a vehicular traffic nightmare if instructions aren’t closely followed. While I haven’t ever picked up a pacer at Brooks, if I have crew, I typically have them walk with me out of the station for a few minutes while I give them the skinny on my race thus far & update on what I’ll need at the next point I see them - Hazel, 25 miles away.

Brooks to Highway DD (7.5mi) – Medium uphill out of Brooks, and then quality single-track on rolling hills through the forest. If you got a boost out of the station, this is a good place to translate it into some leg turnover. Left turn into a short out & back from the trail to the aid, but very straightforward.

Highway DD (mile 51.0) – Halfway! The second of two drop-bag locations that don’t have crew access. This is where I typically pick up a light, as generally only the front 2-3 make it to Hazel (next drop) before it gets dark. I also tie a jacket with light gloves in the pockets around my waist, as I know it will get cold once the sun goes down. This aid station usually sneaks up on me, as there’s no distinguishing features leading up to it and while not hidden, doesn’t stand out. Some nice AC/DC to signal the halfway point from a mile off would be welcome (hint, hint). J Good soup. You have two long stretches between aid stations coming up, so make sure you’re all set on gear, chafing, water & food before heading out. Night will come before you hit the next drop, and probably before the next aid station if you’re running outside of the top 15 or so.

Highway DD to Martin Road (8.2mi) – Here you hit one of the most runnable sections of the course. Coming out of the aid station, you hit a gradual downhill that takes you down to creek bottoms. The trail spends a goodly number of miles simply paralleling the creek on a flat, smooth runnable section of trail. I suspect some wet year, this section will be a marsh, but it hasn’t happened yet. In this portion, you also hit the one major junction of the Ozark Trail in the race. It will be well-marked, but do keep your head up because if you take the wrong turn, you will still be following OT markers, but be off course.

Martin Road (59.2mi) – A nice way station on a minor road crossing. They’ll have the basics, and typically hot soup (yum!). You have 9.3mi until Hazel, so make sure to take an extra minute to top off both fuel and water.

Martin Road to Hazel Creek (9.3mi) – More very runnable trail, slightly rolling with some creek crossings. If you have saved your legs, the previous section and this one should let you make some tracks. It will be dark by the time you hit Hazel. I’ve had a mental bonk here – it tends to happen along with sunset – and this section has seemed both short and long to me, depending on company (or lack thereof) and pace. Most folks will pick up a pacer at Hazel, but this isn’t a bad time to think about joining in with a fellow runner as an unofficial pacer to help keep your spirits up. Worked very well for me in ’09.

Hazel Creek (68.5mi) – To me, the most important aid station. Crew access, pacer pickup, drop bag, warm fire, and plenty of eats. You have a gradual uphill into the station, and will see its lights and fire from at least a half-mile out. There’s a significant creek crossing a mile+ before it, marked with glo-sticks. Know at that you are close at that point, but not quite there. Hazel Here is where I always duck behind the vehicles to do a complete clothing changeover for nightfall. You may not feel like it at the time, but the 13mi to Berryman will seem long enough and cold enough – you don’t want to be caught short. Refuel, get your gear, and get your mind set for the nighttime slog. Podog & PT, the aid station captains, have a “no chair & no scissors” policy – they won’t provide chairs for you to sit so you don’t spend too much time there, and they won’t cut off your wristband. No, there are no wristbands at OT100, but if you try to drop there, Podog will just point at the buckle he earned at OT100 in ’09, and then point to the trail.

Hazel to Machael Hollow (Pigeon Creek) (7.6mi) – This section always seems long to me. Perhaps it’s the mental shift & slow down with the nightfall, or the re-introduction of the usual rolling hills after the flat-ish past 17mi. I’ve battled bad cases of the sleepies twice here, as I have a strong regular sleep cycle and typically come through at my body’s bedtime. Half of a caffeine pill usually keeps me upright. Trail is better than the rough first 30ish, but rutted in a goodly amount of places.

Machael Hollow (Pigeon Creek) (76.1mi) – You will see it coming from at least a half-mile off as you climb a gradual uphill. Aid Station Captain Steve Breeding has erected large, inflatable, lighted creatures (such as a snowman) each of the past two years, so no, that is not a hallucination on the horizon. Access to this station is limited, so while a number of people drop here each year, you really want to keep powering on, as there will be a sizeable delay to get back to Bass River (and nothing is more certain during an ultra than change). The station was a mile closer to Hazel the first year, but was moved starting in ’10. Also, this station’s name is changing for ’12 because no one associated with the race can figure out how to pronounce “Machael”

Machael Hollow to Berryman Campground (5.4mi) – I’ll admit my memory of this section is lacking, as I have been in a funk every year thus far traversing it. There is a shoe-wetting creek crossing about two miles out from the aid station. More rolling hills & rocks. Major crossing of Highway 8 that was has been less than solidly assuringly marked each year – but there is a trail kiosk once you cross that will help. At this road crossing, you are 1.5mi from the aid station. Berryman will be very visible with its bright lights (and usually strings of Christmas lights), and anyone who has run the Berryman Trail (a 24mi loop subsection of the OT) will recognize the approach.
By this point, you will have learned the secret to traversing the OT in the dark in early November. There will be enough leaves down that in a lot of places, distinguishing between the trail itself and an alternate opening between a couple trees will be very difficult, and trail markings are still quite sparse (more on that later). How you tell, then, the correct direction is by feel. Under the leaves, the trail is hard-packed, while off-trail is much softer. Many times I have been saved from a wrong turn by being alert enough to notice the difference within 2-3 steps. It will be quite distinguishable once you’re actually out there.

Berryman Campground (81.5mi) – Not to set expectations high, but this aid station has always had amazing food. It has varied each year, but memories of freshly made French Toast & Bacon, homemade cookies & brownies, delicious made-from-scratch soup, etc has always hit the spot. Big sheltered aid station with a warm interior, so beware the chair – don’t let yourself linger. Also, this is the second of two out-and-back aid stations, and one where you leave go at least a half-mile off the trail on a side path. That turn is well marked, but make sure you stop and let your 80+ mile brain double-check the signage.

Berryman to Billy’s Branch (7.5mi, officially – probably more like 9.0mi) – Two important notes: 1. Coming out of the aid station for the first 1-2mi is very confusing. You backtrack from the station to the well-marked turn, and make sure you continue on the correct way. Markings have always seemed especially sparse between here & Billy’s, and twice I have had near panic attacks not remembering if I turned the right way or not at that junction. When you do turn the right way, the trail proceeds to double back on itself at least twice, and there are a good number of side trail. Keep your eyes open and pay attention – the only person who has gotten significantly lost on the OT did so here, and it is confusing if you’re not paying close attention. 2. The distance from Berryman to Billy’s is longer than advertised. I swear. The distance from Berryman to Henpeck (mi 95) is solid, but I believe Billy’s is at least a mile-and-a-half farther from Berryman than advertised (and thus closer to Henpeck). So don’t panic if it seems like it’s taking forever to get there. There be hills in this section, and you hit a long one on the climb up to the aid station. There is some runnable creek-bottom paralleling trail here, though, if you still have the legs.

Billy’s Branch (89.0mi, officially, probably 90.5mi) – You will be following a ridgeline on the approach, one that heads what I believe is first east and then curves 90 degrees to the left (north). Aid Station Co-Captain James always has a battery-powered motion detector along the trail that radio signals an alarm in the aid station tent. James is my friend, so I try to crawl along the brush circling the motion detector and take him by surprise (hasn’t worked yet). This AS is where I had my lowest point of any OT attempt – in ’10, I spent an hour here in a chair wrapped in four blankets and was still shivering upon emerging. Experience ultrarunners work this station, and they know how to take care of you. Listen to them.

Billy’s to Henpeck (7.0, officially) – Like I said, this section is at most 5.5mi. More runnable creek bottoms, followed by the run’s steepest (and medium distance) climb up a hill, then curving back and forth in a leaf-less tree flat hilltop section, gradually doing a short climb to a road crossing where the aid station is. Note: after that steep climb, you may see another dirt road ahead that you think is the one that the aid station straddles – it isn’t. Just keep moving along, and soon you will hear the sounds of people off to your right, as you make a hard right turn about a quarter mile out from the station to go into it.

Henpeck Hollow (95.0mi) – One last time to see crew’s smiling faces. Grab what eats you need to get into the finish, consider dropping a layer, and get moving. Smell the barn, and head to it. In ’11, I didn’t stop moving at Henpeck – 10 yards out, I yelled “#101 heading in”, grabbed a granola bar at the table without breaking stride, yelled “#101 heading out, and thanks” back over my shoulder, and kept moving. I’d recommend the same.

Henpeck to Bass River Resort (102.0mi) – You might not want to read this section. Coming out of Henpeck starts innocently enough, with rolling hills through more ridgeline bare tree surrounded, leaf-covered trail. But after about 3 miles, you start hitting the repaired trail that wasn’t part of the course in ’09. Simply put, you have four sizable climbs – ones that would be sizable even on fresh legs, on a hillside series that feels like it’s always doubling back on itself. Read the notes toward the start of this report for more detail. Eventually you’re dumped out along a fence, which the trail parallels on two sides, up to the road, cross the creek (1mi to go), run on the gravel road, through some vacant campsites, then cross back over the road to follow the white picket fence into the finish, which is right at the northeast corner of the deck at the main lodge for Bass River Resort. Congratulations!

Some other thoughts:

No aid stations at OT100 yet have a musical tradition, so there’s none of the experience you may have had before of hearing the aid station two miles off. Also, some but not all of the aid stations remember to hang trash bags 100 yards past the station for those who are munching as they leave, FYI. And please at each aid station, make a point to thank not only the aid station workers but also the radio operators. Each year a consortium of 5+ ham radio clubs and 70+ volunteers make up the essential communications network for the race in this area devoid of cell-phone signal. Without them, the race simply wouldn’t be possible.

Crewing OT100 is an interesting proposition, with the relatively few access points and long distances without crew. If you are a heavily crew-dependent runner, this may a good place to wean yourself off that reliance. As I always tell my crew, “You’re completely irrelevant at Ozark. So don’t worry – I don’t need you. I can do this race fine on aid stations & drop bags. Nothing you can do or worry about will screw up this race for me. However, (consolatory shoulder pat) there are a number of things you can do to help me through this.”

Course markings – OT has three different types of course markings. The primary race markings are ribbons – usually orange & silver striped. However, it depends nearly as much on official permanent OT trail markings, which are white rectangles with a superimposed green O & T. In sections where there are numerous permanent OT markers, there may be only 2-3 ribbons per mile. You rarely, if ever, are at a point where you can see the next marker of either type from the one before it. Ground flags, as I recall, are only used twice to mark significant turns. Glow sticks are also used a night, but only to mark the short distance into and out of aid stations, as well as each side of significant road crossings. You will likely find them to be “The most beautiful sight in the world”, denoting food & company upcoming before you can hear or see the aid stations themselves. You may get fooled a couple times, when there are glow sticks marking a road crossing making you think you’re near the aid station – know the difference. There will be at least two other types of markings out there – other ribbons, and plain gray diamond permanent markers. The former will be from other events, and can include some solid orange ribbons – make sure to look for the silver stripe on ribbons so you don’t get led astray. The white diamond markers follow the OT for quite some time, and I made the mistake the first year assuming they were synonymous with the regular OT markings, and after using them reliably for 30+ miles, lost 20min when they led me astray.

I’m sure there’s more to write, and this ended up much more of a general, if biased, overview than I expected, but I hope it’s helpful. If you’re interested in my own personal experience, come run with me & I’ll attempt to relate how ’11 went for me without too much whining. J Good luck, and see you on the trail!

Ozark Trail 100 2010

"To me, there's really only two reasons not to finish an ultra - either you are risking permanent injury, or it's involuntary - e.g. missing a cutoff or passing out"* - Ozark Trail 100 RD Paul Schoenlaub

I discovered new lows. You've heard of a running high? Newtonian physics would dictate that there are also running lows, and I dug deeper than ever before this weekend.

The short version:
For the first 40 miles, I was out of it both mentally and physically. My legs had no bounce and my head was not into the race. I have never questioned so early in a race my commitment to finishing. I hit a good stretch from shortly before Brooks Creek (mile 43) until Machell Hollow (mile 76) until the wheels came off quite suddenly right around mile 76.
Very little running happened after this point, and walking/staggering of various speeds on a cold Ozark night took me into Billy's Branch (mile 88) wearing five layers and still needing an hour of sitting wrapped in electric blankets to get warm. Two miles later, I told John Goble, my pacer, "I'm dizzy, my vision is blurry, I'm staggering and I'm scared", and proceeded to sit down next to a tree and cry. I quit. Again, I quit that race, right then and there. John let me sit, cry it out, and then said "Alright, let's get moving". He held on to me until I could walk straight and kept me moving slowly until we crossed the finish line.
Same place, two minutes slower than last year. I'm still not sure I actually did finish, but everyone keeps acting like I did, so might as well smile. :)

The long version:

Pre-Race

Ozark one year ago was my first 100 miler. I knew one was coming for me, and I had been planning on Rocky Raccoon in February, but the lure of an inaugural event in the state where I lived plus the effect of reading so many stories of folks who had completed X races in a row wound me up into wanting to start my own streak. I finished last year. It was hard, I learned many new things, and got myself a new chronic injury that weekend that persists still today. This was year two - I was one of a dozen returning veterans in the race's sophomore year, knew the course, knew the hardships, had a dozen more ultras behind me in experience now - I could handle Ozark this year...right?

Heartland 100 miler four weeks beforehand took a lot out of me. I was as razor sharp as I've ever been for that race. And the recovery took longer than any ultra I've done before. Normally, two weeks after a 100, I'm ready to hit it hard again. Two weeks after Heartland (and thus two weeks before Ozark) I was still sluggish and easily tired. I knew I wasn't at my best going in, but I hoped my course knowledge plus residual fitness would help me to something along the lines of a 24 hour finish, which I hoped might also be top-10.

Rolled into race headquarters at Bass River Resort around lunch on Friday - was great to see Paul, Stu, Deb, Cindy, Laura & the whole crew getting everything prepped. Helped some, ate, chilled with other early arrivals and just generally soaked in some positive nostalgia. Races like this are really like family reunions with one difference - a bunch of vaguely familiar people you don't know, and a whole bunch you do - the difference being you're really excited and happy to see the ones you do know. :)

Oh, and met my pacer, John Goble. John had posted on the OT100 listserv about four weeks before the race offering his pacing services. Not wanting to take something I considered a luxury from someone else who might consider it a necessity, I waited two weeks before emailing him. He was still available, so we exchanged some emails, phone calls, and finally met about 12 hours before race start. Great guy, new to ultrarunning and just having completed his first 100 at Arkansas Traveler five weeks before, running a stellar 23:05 for 7th place!

Nighted at a hotel in Cuba, MO with John, then got up at 3a to drive down to the race start. Ozark being a point-to-point race (rather than loops or an out-and-back), you have to shuttle down to the start, get dropped off, and then run back. We caught up to the back of the race caravan and followed them, except that they took a wrong turn a mile from the start. After following for a minute, I told John "this isn't right", grabbed a map, and pulled a U-turn. We got to the start at 5:15a and the caravan didn't arrive until 5:40. Oops. Made for nice short lines at the Port-O-Potties!

Start to Grasshopper Hollow (8.0mi)

23 degrees at the start. *teeth chatter* - did I mention I am solidly a hot-weather runner, at least relative to cold? At least there wasn't much wind. Surprisingly, three layers was comfortable once we started.

Last year, I wanted to start out slow and controlled, so I placed myself near the back at the start. This led to 10 frustrating miles of half walk, half run while stuck behind other runners on narrow singletrack, which was a bit too controlled, so this year I wanted up front. If I thought I could do top 10, I might as well start near there. Nice pack of six starting out - Burch, Creehan, Gibbs, Doias, Ruttum and myself, the usual fresh-legs feel of the start of a race. Let them go after about four miles not wanting to press it. DST was still in effect, so dark through the first hour. Evidently, the first 14 miles were rather bramble filled not two weeks before the race, and the RDs spent copious hours clearing the trail before race day. I can believe it, based on how what remnants there were tore up my legs - can't imagine how bad it was before their work! Kept Ruttum and John Cash from getting lost. Friendly faces Paul, Stu & Mike Mehrwin at Grasshopper.

Grasshopper Hollow to Sutton Bluff (17.6mi)

Ouch! Root holes abound - I told Cash that we're adding a new skill to technical trail running - alongside Loose Rock Downhills and Hidden Roots in Ankle Deep Mud comes Rounding Root Holes. A twofer bit me - rounded one hole only to fall directly into one that started right where the previous one ended. Fortunately, my fall was stopped by a nice solid raspy root right across mid-shin. Nothing like bloody swelling early-on in the race to prep you for the inevitable later on.
I think I fell more in this first stretch than I did the entire race last year - and that was with knowing how rough the course would be! Also, the views coming off the bluff into the campground are still beautiful, and it still takes forever to get to the aid station from the point where you can first see it.
Note to self - you will want to change socks here after Bee Fork, the biggest water crossing on the course (mi 14.1) so next time pack decent socks in your drop bag!

Sutton Bluff to Stillwell Hollow (22.8mi)

Was it really in this stretch that I had already started to question my sanity in doing this race? 20 miles in? Legs were already feeling it, mentally I was spacing, and it wasn't four hours yet. Sheesh. Trail less rough. Great to see Flatrock RD Eric Steele and crew at the aid station

Stillwell Hollow to Johnson Hollow (28.0mi)

More of the same. Schoenlaub clan at the aid station. :) I believe I knew most, if not all, of the aid station crew at 11 of the 13 aid stations - and one of where I didn't was a crewed aid station. Especially at night, it was a serious boost to know not just what but WHO was coming up.

Johnson Hollow to Gunstock Hollow (34.8mi)

Dave Walch caught up, and we played tag through Hazel Creek. Mentally a total space case, can't get any rhythm going, admitting to myself that I wasn't having fun, but still persisting both well under 24 hour pace and hopping between 7th/8th place.

Gunstock Hollow to Brooks Creek (43.5mi)

This is where I ran out of water last year barely halfway between the aid stations, and made sure to add an extra handheld in my bag at Gunstock this year - and it was a very good thing I did! Down to one layer for this section. About three miles out from Brooks Creek, it becomes very flat & runnable, with a lot of long, shallow downhills - my favorite for pushing the pace. Was finally able to relax, and came into the aid station in decent spirits. Had a brainstorm to have John walk with me for a ways out from the aid station - that way I could fill him in on how I was doing without stressing about spending too much time at the aid station. I believe my summary was "My mental game is gone, and my mom called - she said I left my legs at home. Other than that, everything's going well". Started grabbing gear for night, knowing we had passed the hottest part of the day.

Brooks Creek to Highway DD (51.0mi)

Got some tunes going, and finally got into a groove, even running the majority of uphills, which I hadn't been doing to that point for lack of self-motivation. Wanted to take advantage of the last few hours of daylight. Realized my fueling was going amazingly well. I depend mostly on Boost! for my calories - 360 per 8 oz plus antioxidants, electrolytes, etc. Never caused stomach problems. With drop bags at Gunstock, Brooks and Highway DD all so close, I had planned to drink a pair at Gunstock, and then one each at the latter two. Without even thinking, I downed a pair at Brooks and didn't even realize it until 4mi later. Thinking, "Huh, I wonder..." I turned the trick again at Highway DD, and counting some extra aid station fare I'd taken in earlier in the race, I was far and away setting a PR for both total calorie intake and intake per hour! 3270 in the first half alone!

Hit the halfway point at 10hr 43min - well within 24 hour pace. Jen Eichelberger, the aid station captain, was also coordinating a food drive at Ozark, so dropped off the can of tuna at the aid station that I had duct taped to my waist belt at the start. When asked, I said "I'm a ultrarunner - since when do we ever do anything the easy way?"

Highway DD to Martin Road (59.2mi)

Easy terrain - flat creek bottoms, solid surfaces. Kept up the rhythm. Darkness hits right before the aid station, and I start to bundle up. Gloves, three layers (top partially unzipped) and hat.

Martin Road to Hazel Creek (68.5mi)

Darkness brings a downturn in mood as it always does, but as a friend says of me, I avoid "turning into a pumpkin", unlike the total mental crash of last year. More walking now, but it's power-walking and still good spirits and am honestly having fun now. Good to see John at the aid station for the start of his trek with me.
At the aid station, find the warmest place to completely strip down to re-layer for the night is next to the campfire out in the open, so I *suggest* to the rest of the crew/volunteers there that they might want to "take a look down the trail". Tights, shorts, four layers up top + emergency heavy jacket around the waist, two pair gloves and thermal headband.

Hazel Creek to Machell Hollow (76.1mi)

I said beforehand that one thing that can really ruin me mentally is if I believe I should already have made it to an aid station and it's still not in sight. Unfortunately, I "remembered" Machell being at 75.1, and the extra 12+ minutes to get there really ground on me. Otherwise, was great having company in the form of John, and he did a good job getting me to run those places I had the energy to but mentally was having trouble driving myself along. I told him to expect a 1/3 run/walk ratio at this point, but he had me going more like 3/1 and being comfortable doing it. Norm (friend & pacer from Heartland) was here. Felt good, felt confident, 24 hours was within my grasp.

Machell Hollow to Berryman Campground (81.5mi)

I got cold. I put on the heavy jacket. I was still cold. I pulled up the hood. I was still cold. I cinched up the front so I was breathing into the jacket interior like a mini furnace. I was still...cooler than was comfortable. We walked. My energy sunk. What changed? How so fast? I wish I knew. Five layers! Five! I know my body loses its ability to temperature regulate after ~50miles, but this was ridiculous - I had never been so well dressed for cold weather on a run before - including below-zero wind chill runs last winter! Couldn't be fuel - I was still on a PR calorie pace. Yes, it was the first cold run of the year, and the first hot/cold are always the hardest to adjust to, but still!
John was very helpful, suggesting running in spots where the trail was clear (since with my lack of flexibility after 75+ miles visibility of trail mattered more for ease of running than uphill/downhill), reminding me to drink, and keeping up good conversation. About a mile out from Berryman, I remarked to him that I wished Kyle & Stacey Amos were at this upcoming aid station like last year. I was having some pains on the inside of my right knee that I hadn't experienced before and would have liked Kyle's advice.

Berryman Campground to Billy's Branch (88.0mi)

And guess who was at the aid station? Kyle & Stacey! I had totally spaced that they were running it. And not only that - they had fresh cooked french toast and BACON! BACON! BACON! Mmmm...bacon............................................ What? Oh...race report. Started following cravings rather than my pre-race fueling plan, eating what looked good rather than strictly downing Boost! with supplemental grazing. Realize 24hour pace is now a long-shot. I'm only 20min behind it at this point, but as bad as I'm feeling, I need to concentrate in moving forward without the added stress of a pace goal.

John & I had good conversation coming out of Berryman - so good we didn't notice the T-intersection to take us back on the right trail. It was so well marked there's no way we could have missed it, right? After about 20min, we get worried - it should only have been a half-mile and we're not walking that slow. We don't recognize the part of the trail we're on. Three possibilities - we're still coming up to the T, we've headed back down toward Machell, or we took the correct turn and didn't notice. At least, there's not any other options - right?
I send John on ahead to run and see if he can find anything, while I walk on. After 20min, he's not back and I get very worried - the few times we'd got off trail thus far, I'd been the one to get us back on, since I both had the "feel" down and remembered enough from last year. What if he got off trail and didn't realize? What if we were backtracking? What if we were lost? And so on and so forth the downward mental slope accelerates. I tell myself if I don't see him in 15min, I'm turning around. Fortunately, he shows up five minutes later reporting that he thinks we took the correct turn and just didn't notice. He points out a Berryman Trail marker of the type I had been desperately searching for (and missing, I guess), which I knew confirmed we were going the right way and hadn't wasted any time.

Now that that distraction is past, I notice I'm cold. And I'm tired. (and evidently I'm retroactively whiny.) Mentally that stress about finished me off. Stagger now better describes my pace. All I can think about now is how slow we're moving, how crappy I feel, etc. At least John's there three steps ahead of me so all I have to do is concentrate on following his footsteps and not actually have to be present in my surroundings, worry about checking trail markings, etc. How did this race do this to me again? I didn't feel this crappy at this point last year, not by far. I tell John I have the aptly appropriate lyrics from "Underdog" by Audio Adrenaline running through my head:
"Been beat up. Been broken down. Nowhere but up when you're facedown on the ground. I'm in last place, if I place at all, but there's hope for this underdog."
Start doubting my ability to finish again. Only hope is that by now, I'm far enough under the cut-offs that I know 30min miles plus an hour at each aid station will still get me back in time.

Billy's Branch (88.0mi)

James Barker and Deb Johnson are godsends. So caring, so well prepared. Sit in a chair. Get covered by electric blankets. Cold. Five layers + 2 electric blankets and cold. Took us two-and-a-half hours to traverse that 6.5mi. Fall asleep for almost an hour. Don't even realize it until I'm awoken again. Told I need to get moving. Don't feel like I slept at all. Still cold even when I get up.

Billy's Branch to Henpeck Hollow (95.0mi)

Tired. Cold. Brain stripped down to what Bad Ben Holmes calls "reptilian" - functioning only on a basic survival level. And this reptile wants to curl up and hibernate or whatever it is reptiles do in winter. I slowly stagger two miles down the trail behind John until stopping and calling him. I say, "I'm dizzy. My vision is blurry. I can't walk straight. I'm scared". That last bit was my call of surrender. I felt closer to passing out than actual consciousness. I knew we needed to go back to the aid station and throw in the towel. Even that was 50/50 me collapsing and having to be carried in. I sidestep over to a tree, slide down it until I'm sitting, and start crying. Frustration. Shame. Exhaustion. Misery. I thought I had felt crappy during a race before, but this was new ground.
We sit there for a while. I mumble apologies and exclamations and cough and hate on myself. John listens. Doesn't say much, at least that I remember. I start to run out of tears. We sit a bit more. He asks if I can get up, I respond, he holds my arm, and we start to stagger together - forward, not backward. Consciously moving toward the finish, not back toward the aid station.
(Want to note that I've never actually passed out, and a small bit of irrational me was actually pushing to keep going until I did so, just for the experience.)
We move slowly, but we get there. Less dizzy. Daylight helps. Schoenlaub family again. Pack a pocket of mini candy bars just in case.

Henpeck Hollow to Finish (102.0mi)

Not moving quite at 20min/mi pace, but forward. With sun comes warmth, and I start talking more, spirits rising some. Dizzy spells still; the candy bars help a lot.
The finish has been, well, finished this year. Storms from spring '09 had meant that the final 4mi of trail of the race course hadn't been cleared by race day last year, so forest service roads made up the last stretch. This year, the trail is open, which means we can see Bass River Resort from a ways off. A long ways off. Knowing the finish is coming turns the grim "if we make it" comments into exhaustedly sarcastic but ultimately hopeful remarks about the nonsensibility of switchbacks heading away from the direction we now know to be the finish and various versions of "if there's ONE MORE HILL, I'll...". Realize I will make it. My hoped for 10-year-in-a-row-in-the-first-10-years streak is still possible.
Finally warm. Hit points a mile-and-a-half off, three-quarters off, and then the finish is in sight. We cross. I get my buckle. 28:45 - two minutes slower than last year, when I painfully hobbled the last 13mi in 6.5hr with a "disintegrated" left shin. 18th place - same as last year.
Still not sure about it. I quit, I gave up, if it had been up to me, I would not have finished. Does this count?

Post-Race and Other Thoughts.

Thank you John. It is a certainty I would not have finished without you. Thank you for pushing me. Thank you for listening. Thank you for refusing to listen when appropriate. Thank you for patience far beyond the level of reasonableness. Thank you for refusing to recognize that I quit. This was only your first time pacing, and I can't wait to see how good your next charge gets it.

Thank you all aid station volunteers - especially James, Deb, Kyle, Stacey & Cindy. You saved my...bacon. :) Your patience, commitment to the runners' well being, advice and creativity on food were all spectacular.

Thank you consortium of six ham radio clubs, for providing a safety net in a cell phone dead zone without which this race would be impossible.

Thank you fellow runners for your jokes, encouragement, extreme efforts and willingness to push beyond all reasonable limits. Finisher or not, you're all rock stars.

Thank you Mom, Alyssa, Brian Longfellow, Nick Kietzman-Greer, Trail Nerds & Hawks & Gators & Masons & all running friends, Dr. Janice Louden, housemates of this masochist, and many more for advice, support and mainly just general putting-up-with-ness. :)

Thank you Paul & Stuart, for creating this wonderful, horrible, teaching and rewarding experience. For being out there to cheer and help at the early aid stations, for all the work you put in beforehand clearing trail, marking and doing administrative head-spinning to make this race happen. Eight more, and I know in a week I'll be saying I can't wait. :)

Musings:

Two new PRs from the race: Least Chafing and Most Calories Consumed. The former thanks to BodyGlide (first use in a race) and the second at approximately 5500, depending how rich the Amos's french toast was. :)

Showers at Bass River Resort, 20' from the finish line, are a wonderful thing.

When my stomach goes to pot, I crave solid foods. Noodle soup turns my stomach. I'm told craving solid food over semi-liquid is a good sign. Not sure why. +2 to Schoenlaub clan at the finish line going above and beyond on my request for some hot, solid food and cranking out a couple dozen grilled (turkey &) cheese.

The 25+ miles between crew access points between both Sutton Bluff/Brooks Creek and Brooks Creek/Hazel Creek make it very hard for crew to anticipate arrival time of their runner - so much can change.

Bacon. 'Nuff said.

Always carry one more layer of clothing than you plan on wearing during a 100-miler. Always.

Ozark Specific:

It was cold enough in the morning that with the crossing at Bee Fork, when I rolled into Sutton Bluff and attempted to change socks, I had to deal with frozen shoe laces.

You will want to change socks for sure at two places: Sutton Bluff (after the largest water crossing on the course) and Berryman (after the second-largest and LAST crossing - you'll have dry socks till the finish)

The first 17.6 miles are ROUGH and you'll do as much dancing as running. Don't have a pace goal. Don't push it. Stay alert. It will beat you up some regardless - be prepared for this mentally.

3 miles before Brooks Creek, it gets very flat and runnable. This continues basically until Hazel Creek. Make sure to take it easy until then so you are ready to use this.

There's a large hill for at least a mile into Billy's Branch. It will be dark and you will be quite tired when you hit this. Remember it - you don't want the mental drain of it catching you by surprise.

More to come...




*paraphrased - everyone who knows Paul would recognize that this summarizes at least five minutes of chatter :)

OT100

There's really no place I can start this race report other than thanking the vast number who made it possible. Kyle Amos told me before the race that anyone who is able run a hundred miles should count themselves very blessed & lucky that they are even able to attempt something like that, and I definitely do thank God for all he's blessed me with, physically, mentally, life-situationally, and most certainly friends to see me through this. Brian Longfellow & Jenn Bernstein, my pacers & crew. Debbie Webster, Julie Toft, James Barker, Colleen Voeks & Deb Johnson, my cabin & van buddies, unofficial crew & hug buddies. Paul Schoenlaub, Stuart Johnson & Lee Hess, race directors/coordinators extraordinaire. Nolan Ming, fellow runner who was my unofficial pacer for part of the night. Ben Holmes, Gary Henry & Darin Schneidewind (and many more) for inspiration to actually attempt this. Kyle Amos & Danny Miller (and many more) for advice on how to not die doing this. Webbie, Shelley Flones & Sophia Wharton for making sure I wasn't dead or dying afterwards. Those two random ladies to let me basically put my whole weight on them to hobble the 50' from the finish line to a car. Stacey Amos, Tony Clark and all of the many aid station workers, radio operators, volunteers, National Forest Service folks & Bass River Resort staff who made this race possible. THANK YOU. Much more to say, but (hopefully) I'll let the story tell itself.

As a couple of my previous race reports have mentioned, the OT100 has predominated my thoughts for a few months now. First 100 miler, kinda strange it would do so, eh? Makes it rather difficult to know where to start, since the whole story probably begins back at the end of July - February - previous October - ok, if I was really trying, I could link it back to the 4th Quarter of 5th grade. We'll see where this goes, but one thing's for sure - it will be long. :-P

Left for Bass River Resort Thursday night with Debbie, James, Julie & Deb. All of our luggage + my race supplies + aid station supplies made for a very full van - I had to sit on the topper to get it zipped shut. James put up very well with conflicting opinions about driving & directions from us peanut gallery folks, and I enjoyed the healthiest chicken burger Sonic had to offer + Cherry Limeade. Drive was shorter than Google reports - we took 2 (3?) wrong turns + dinner stop & still made it from West of the 435 belt in Shawnee to Bass River Resort in under 5 hours. Note: if you're arriving in the dark, while BRR has big signs, they're not lit and easy (so we're telling ourselves) to miss. And I don't think we did too horrible of a job waking up Lee, Stuart, Paul & Cindy unloading into the cabin. (SORRY)

You know you never sleep well the night before a race, and two nights before is the time to make sure you get a good nights sleep, right? Well, I hadn't been sleeping well all week, but did that night! Got up around sunrise, Webbie had brought an egg bake so had 4-course breakfast. Stuart & Lee went out to finish marking the course (rains the previous weekend had disrupted their marking time table), Paul was chopping down trees to feed into his printer for race packets, and everyone else went for a run on the OT while I packed drop bags.

Bit of a dilemma with drop bags. The first crew access is at mile 17.6, Sutton Bluff, which is where our whole crew would be working the aid station. The next is Brooks Creek, mile 43.5, which I wouldn't arrive at for at least another 6 hours. Based on that, I suggested to my crew/pacers, Jenn Bernstein & Brian Longfellow, that they didn't need to come over Friday night but instead could leave Saturday morning & not meet me until Brooks Creek, around 4 in the afternoon at 24hr pace. HOWEVER, cell phone service at BRR was basically non-existent. I could get a bar on our porch with Sprint, but Verizon, T-Mobile & something else were all dead for the weekend unless you drove a mile back up the road. I had planned to leave my crew box of supplies with Webbie and have Jenn/Brian call her to meet up & get it, but that was looking less likely. So I made a game-time decision to put all of my perceived "needs" into a large drop bag for Brooks Creek, and all of the "wants" into the crew box, to be left at our cabin at BRR. Also packed small drop bags for the two aid stations that could have them prior to Brooks Creek, but not afterwards, figuring on being crew-dependent. Being my usual type-A self, I made an annotated list of what was in each bag/crew box, and if you're interested, I uploaded it to the files section of the OT100 Yahoo! group email list.

Colleen arrived, everyone got back from the run, showered, and we all got busy stuffing race packets, making signs for the Sutton Bluff aid station, and lunching. I believe there was some stapler drama, but that is not my story to tell. :) I had developed a suspicion (but can't remember the rationale behind it) that diary products were causing me stomach/bowel problems on long runs, and was cutting them out in the 48hrs before the run (down from my usual 1/3+ gallon of milk per day - seriously). I pooped less during the race than usual, but am not sure if I can fully assume causation here. Was eating every 1-2 hours - chicken noodle soup, raspberry applesauce, egg bake, powerbars, OJ, bagel + hummus, not sure what else.

A thought on pre-race fueling for ultras, that may not be that popular. I really think the emphasis on eating a lot and drinking constantly in the 24-48 hours before an ultra is overblown. Carbo-loading in based on the theory of packing in glycogen stores, but even a trained endurance athlete who has depleted and then supersatured their glycogen capacity has, at most, 90min of fuel stored in that format. The rest is coming from fat stores and what you take in during the event itself, and since it typically takes 24-48 hours for your body to convert excess calories into stored fat, eating for that purpose is not logical. Eating a lot in the day beforehand may pump up your glycogen stores, but not in a way that is really going to affect your overall performance in anything ultra distance. In fact, I think it kind of hurts me - if I start off TOO well fueled (or hydrated), I feel fine longer into the race. What's the problem with that? I don't get into a habit early of eating & drinking, because I am seriously not hungry/thirsty and have a much harder time making myself take things in from the get-go, where a consistent fuel intake from the start would help me much more. I would conjecture that fueling during a race is much more important than pre-race, and it might behoove me to sometime try an ultra where I start out, if not hungry, no more fueled than I would on a regular day. Similar with water - it's hard to drink when I'm not thirty, but if I start out supersatured, by the time I can finally make myself down decent quantities of water, I'm in hydration-debt & working to make it up. I'm definitely not saying that I or anyone should enter an ultra calorie or water deprived, but I think that, as long as you have a reliable watering & fueling infrastructure in place for an ultra, it might be fine to enter a race with no difference in your intake than on a regular day. And it might also help prevent bonks, as per my above reasoning - if you're consistent from the start, you won't reach that all-too-familiar point where your pre-race loading runs out and your body is transitioning to primarily using fuel taken in mid-race. Would love to hear thoughts on this, and can back up some of my points with articles - please let me know if you want me to dig out that info.

Back to the narrative. Hiked the quarter mile over to the main lodge at BRR, where packet pickup started at 2p. The lodge had Wi-Fi! I helped hand out packets a bit while checking email, listservs, sports scores, Plans/blogs, and generally finding my powers of concentration zeroing out as the actual race schedule of events started. was very grateful to find a well wishing email thread on the Hawks list. :)

Dinner from 4-6p in the lodge was pretty good - white flour pasta with both veggie & meat sauces. Green beans that I assume were from a can with bacon (Colleen didn't realize the latter & I got to induce a spit-take later :-P) Wheat, white & rye rolls, and pre-dressinged (ranch) iceberg lettuce salad. And brownies. And pink lemonade. Most racers had arrived by dinner, and Paul gave the pre-race briefing afterwards on the porch since the weather was so ridiculously nice. Yes, for November 7 in Missouri, race weekend conditions were highs in the 70's, lows around 50, 5% chance of rain (didn't happen) and, as weather.com put it, "abundantly sunny". Most of the briefing had to do with course markings & directions. There's more than a few events on the OT100, and quite a few flags/markers out. Ours were orange & silver striped - both tape & flags, and the whole thing was on the OT, so their blazes were along the whole course as well. They reported the course as quite extensively marked, with examples of all the marking materials and directions about specific sections. Fortunately, while the previous weekend was very wet, the course had dried off in the warm week & was in good shape. The first 20-40 miles of the trail had sustained extensive storm damage in the spring, and the OT Association had done an amazing job cleaning it out, but there were still a lot of downed trees & root holes to report. Also, the last 3 miles of trail leading into BRR had yet to be completed, so we would finish coming in on a gravel road.

Actually managed to sleep about four hours that night, after three hours of tossing about. Since the race is a point-to-point, buses take you from BRR to the starting point. There's no parking at the start, so you either have to take the bus, or be dropped off - no space (or permit) for vehicles. It's about a 2-hour drive from finish to start, so the bus left at 3:30a. Nice, early morning preceding an all-nighter, eh? Also, the buses are school buses, so no on-board potty. We did stop for a pee break at the side of the road about halfway down, though. And there were port-o-potties at the start. Buses arrived at around 5:15, folks either milled around nervously or sat on the bus where it was a bit warmer, Paul gave 15, 10, & 5 min warnings, and we were off. There was something unique & cool about the starting "gun", but I forgot what it was...

At the start, I was wearing two layers on top, both thin technical, shorts, SmartWool socks, Mizuno Wave Ascends, and my Camelbak waist pack. No gloves, tights, hat, etc. Headlamp for the first 20min (which gratefully were being collected at Grasshopper Hollow) My pack held a liter of water, and I had two Hammer Gel flasks, container of S-Caps, small stick with duct tape wrapped around it, two extra Gel packets (to be given away/used for emergencies), a trio of extra AAA batteries, and a printed, folded & sandwich-bagged list of course waypoints, just in case.

The start was very bunched up - there's about 30' of clearing between the road & the trail, not even enough room for everyone to be off the road at the start, and needless to say, unless you were up in the front 5-10, you were walking for at least the first 5min. Had to keep telling myself that it's a long race, not to get impatient, take it slow, and I did - for the first hour. I was just so relieved to finally be running again after my taper that I picked it up a notch, and felt like I was cruising along pretty well. Got to know Tommy Roias, who had run some of the other ultras I'd been at, and Carina Winkler, who was a SIUE grad student from Germany and running not only her first 100, but her first ultra of any kind.

I can rather lump the whole first 40 miles together - tough. Like I said before, there was clean up from storm damage, but the first 40 miles were really tough to run. Besides skirting the huge root holes all over the place, there were still numerous trees to climb over, the trail was hard to find, and it was quite uneven - mostly cambered rather than smooth cut, with oodles of hidden rocks under the leaves, and almost no flat sections - constant either/or on the ups & downs. I was continually surprised in checking my times at the aid stations how slow my actual pace was. Tommy, who I was with for most of the ways into Brooks Creek, thought we were putting down miles somewhere in the 10min range, while in actuality we were barely holding onto 13s. Having a sub-24hr goal, I was trying to gain some margin during the daylight before the inevitable night slowdown, but couldn't without pressing much harder than was smart.

Was great to see Kyle & Stacey Amos and Tony Clark at Grasshopper Hollow (8mi aid station), along with their special "Gary Henry: 2 Picture Limit" sign. Got lost for 3-5min after Grasshopper when the course encountered a Jeep Road - this was actually included in the pre-race briefing, but still it took 5 of us to figure out where to go. Course's largest water crossing at Bee Fork (mi 14.2) was cool, deep (2') and refreshing. View coming in to Sutton Bluff was amazing - from up on the bluff, you could see & hear the aid station from over a mile away. Was great to see Webbie, Julie, Colleen & James there, and made sure to get hugs from them all. Ended up running with the lead female for most of the first 40mi - Carina for the first 10, then some other lady, and then eventual winner Rachel, who pulled away a bit before Brooks Creek. Started "hallucinating" early - got kind of lonely/bored, and everything looked like a person/aid station - the large moss rock is the top of a tent, right? Was already getting some muscle soreness by mile 25, and while the official race packet says there are NO NS-AIDS at the aid stations, I asked if there were any "unofficial" ones at Johnson Hollow. They found a Tylenol for me, which I was most grateful for (Paul & Stuart, please don't disqualify me!). Really would have liked to grab one of the horses at that aid station for a few miles as well. :) Had my tunes in my drop bag for Gunstock Hollow (34.8mi) - plan was to make it the first third on my own, the second third with music, and the last third was a pacer. :) Really just wasn't feeling all that great - everything was working - legs, stomach, head, etc, but nothing was great. As I put it, "everything's in the green, but just barely". Worried me because I knew if (when) anything started getting explodey, I didn't know where I could pull some reserves from, but consoled myself with thinking it was good race management that everything was declining at equal rates. Also, heat started coming in mid-afternoon (high of 75), and I was drinking a lot more than planned. Got super scared when my pack went dry halfway through the 8.7 mi stretch from Gunstock to Brooks Creek.

Was nervous coming in to Brooks Creek - would Jenn & Brian be there? They had left that morning, and had to make an unplanned stop at BRR plus get new directions from there to Brooks Creek, and I was running about a half-hour ahead and what if they had encountered unexpected problems on the way and there was no cell phone service and and and...they were there! I think it would have been a huge mental blow to me if they hadn't, but it was SO SO SO GOOD to see them. They had everything there all laid out so that once my mental checklist disappeared I could just look & point (great idea!), made sure I ate & was fueled, helped me not to forget my headlamp, chatted me up & generally just gave me such a boost.


Able to hold off on the use of my headlamp until Highway DD (51.0mi), where I was told I was running in the top 20(!) but shortly after I headed out from that aid station, the enormity of going the whole night in the dark when I'm tired and rather alone began to hit me, and I started walking a lot, very mentally down. Tommy caught & passed me, and then Nolan Ming, who I had passed about 10miles before, caught me as well. We chatted briefly and then he moved on ahead, and after he got about 100 yards, I realized how much of a boost I got just from that passing encounter and caught back up to him, where I begged him to let me stay with him until I got my pacer. He was agreeable, and is one of many who saved my race. I stayed with him for about 15miles in the dark, and not only did he save us from getting very lost twice, but he kept the pace going well, me mentally focused, and brought us into Hazel Creek. Without him, I may have well dropped due to the mental downs by that point, and I owe him a big debt of gratitude.

Brian & Jenn had been doing a bit of conspiring, and rather than Jenn taking me the 13mi from Hazel Creek to Berryman, she was going to hold back b/c of flu recovery, and Brian was going to take me from Hazel Creek all the way to Henpeck Hollow, which is further than a marathon. Brian, and experienced road marathoner, had told me before that he didn't understand how/why I would go on a training run further than a marathon, and he certainly wouldn't unless he got a medal for it, so I was very pleasantly surprised by this. Got a makeover at Hazel - traded out the chafing Camelbak waist pack for the Nathan one, changed shoes, shirts, re-lubed, etc. As I told Jenn in the video she took of me, I was having fun "off and on". Right IT band a bit sore, left shin tweaking a bit, the chafing on the back, but no blisters.

Nolan took off ahead of me, as did someone else who came in behind, but Brian & I started out and quickly caught that guy. It was so good to have him along - we chattered about anything & everything, walked the ups, ran the downs, and ran most of the flats. He kept me mentally strong and moving and I can't really express how night & day different it was to have him there. We found out at Machell Hollow that I was in 11th - I'm not used to so many folks dropping, and this rather surprised me, since we hadn't passed anyone. Didn't find out, however, how to pronounce "Machell" - even the aid station folks didn't know. Brian & I kept going strong, and about 2.5 miles out of Berryman, we saw headlamps ahead. Started to strategize a bit, and told Brian that we were now running until we caught them & were past them out of site. The runner & pacer were walking medium-slow, and I was remembering the Andy Henshaw Leadville report of "you gotta break their heart". If I really was in 11th, and they were 10th, oh man, I wanted that top ten & wanted to go by them in such a fashion that they wouldn't even think of trying to stay with us. Perhaps a bit harsh, but having something competitive to obsess over at this point really helped. Came into Berryman in "stealth mode" - trying to deflect our lights on switchbacks so we were less visible, talking only quietly, and generally trying to gain as much margin as we could. I was probably rather ridiculous coming into Berryman when I was jogging up trying to shush all the folks cheering by putting my finger to my lips and shining my headlamp at my face. Sorry! Got more food down at Berryman, another "just in case" Ibuprofen - though really nothing but my shin was sore, and I hit it with IcyHot. Kyle told us that basically everyone was walking at this point, so I felt good about our run-walking & being able to hold on to top 10, maybe even move up a bit.

Took off out of Berryman before the "11th-formerly-10th" folks made it in, also running to appear strong as we passed them (there's a 1/4 mi out-and-back from the trail to the aid station). Brian noticed after a half-mile that my waist pack was empty, and offered to go back to Berryman to get my bottle, but I wanted to keep going & told him to forget it - I could make it in with just aid station supplies (bad idea). I was getting very paranoid - stopping & shushing Brian every now in then because I thought I heard voices, making him check behind us for headlamps, and generally being ridiculous. Kept me focused, though? BUT, about a mile out of Billy's Branch (mi 88), we DID see headlamps behind us, moving strong and running. Tried to hold them off, and got in & out of the aid station about 15 seconds ahead of them, but they caught us soon after. Then...my shin exploded. Really, it did so before they caught us, but what was tender and sore before now was having sharp pains with each step. Massaging it didn't help, Ibuprofen wasn't doing anything, and I could barely step on it without gasping. We went from a strong run-walk to slow hobbling in about a half-mile - downhills killed, flats hurt, only inclines felt mediocre. I remember Paul Schoenlaub telling me on a run back in June that the only two reasons he would drop in a 100 were if he was in a life-threatening situation or risking causing himself permanent damage, and I didn't think either was the case here, so I kept hobbling on. It was around 4a now, and I had known since Highway DD that my 24hr goal was gone, but I had still been hoping to get under whatever Paul & Stuart end up setting as the "silver standard", and keep my top 10. That quickly changed to "finish" - I don't know how to spell DNF, not for my first 100.

Compounding my problems were the now slower pace means I was generating very little body heat, and I began to get very cold before two long. Brian & I talked about it, dropped it, talked about it, dropped it, and finally when I was shivering constantly and somewhat dizzy still about 2 miles from Henpeck, we stuffed some Snickers down my gullet, he gave me his extra shirt, and he gallantly ran ahead to the aid station to procure extra clothes for both of us. I kept stumbling forward, but was scared. I knew if I had a conscious choice, I was going to finish, but as dizzy and cold as I was, I hoped I didn't pass out. Had my arms tucked into the body section of my shirt, was holding it up over my mouth to breath in, furnace-like. Snickers helped a lot - I got less dizzy, at least. Brian made it back before a half-hour had passed with lots of clothes, and got me bundled up. We hobbled into Henpeck barely making 30min miles - I would stop & crouch every half-mile or so for a minute - the five miles from Billy's to Henpeck took us just over 2:20. The sun was up by Henpeck, so I was warming up. Tried to put some more food down, and I honestly don't remember what, if anything, I had. Took a bunch more pocket Snickers though.

Jenn & I set out after 10min, hobbling along, and she had the great idea to grab a tree branch as a cane for me. That helped in some rough spots. After two miles of barely making headway, I got impatient and told her that as long as the pain was the same amount, I might as well run as best I can rather than walk. That lasted all of 4 minutes, as while I could run as well as I could walk (and thus move faster), I had no mental juice to sustain the effort. Was surprised that really no one had caught me, as slow as I was moving - only two people thus far. That last seven miles on in just plain sucked though. Moving so slow, not feeling up to talking, sleepy - Jenn was an angel for putting up with me. Thankfully, the last 3.5 miles were on gravel, so the terrain was smoother than I could move a bit faster. If I was in any runnable shape, I could have easily put down sub-10 on those - my legs felt quite fresh, so add frustrated to the list. People started catching & passing, and I went (by my count) from 13th to around 28th. Not that it matters at this point. Hobbled, hobbled, hobbled, down the road, along the back side of the resort, across the field, along the horse pasture while people were cheering. Turned the corner with 50' to go, handed Jenn the stick and tried to run - made it two steps, and settled for a hopping, left-foot dragging shuffle across the line & in. 28:44. I made it.

Kind of a blur after this - got my buckle, gave Jenn & Brian their thank you gifts, hugged many people, probably ate some things, stubbornly insisted on going back to the cabin to shower (which involved using many weight-bearing shoulders and crawling up stairs), "packed" (threw things into tubs), and went back down to watch Gary Henry finish. Checked the results, and saw I was 18th - guess more people ahead of me dropped, plus a few who passed me that I thought were racers must have been pacers. Happy about that placing, but feel kind of weird about it. Turns out only 56 of 136 finished - 44%. The winner said it was harder than Leadville(!) I kind of wonder about the causes of the low finishing rate. I know the course was tougher than expected, but I also wonder about the entrant pool. From what I've heard, this race had a lot (40%+ of the entrants) of first-time 100 milers. Carina, who I mentioned earlier, had never done further than a marathon. I heard about another guy who had never done further than a half-marathon - including in training. Just makes me curious to what extent the low finishing rate can be attributed to 1. Heat 2. Tough Course 3. (related to 2.) Cut-Offs being too strict 4. Atypical entrant field

I am definitely coming back next year, and hope this is the start of a 10-year streak for me. What will I do differently? The main thing is alter my pacing - the last 60 miles were quite runnable, analogous to what I'm used to at Clinton Lake but with longer hills. I (and everyone, I expect) just beat ourselves up so bad on the first 40 that we couldn't take advantage of the latter 60. Once I get a couple more 100s under my belt to make sure this is possible, I plan to take the first 40 as easy as I can, regardless of pace, and see about hitting the last 60 hard(er). Other minor changes - Biofreeze in the med kit, Ibuprofen in the S-cap container, different waist pack since I'm tired of the chafing from my main one, carry an extra layer at night. Not much. Take away my shin problem & the hypothermic problem (mostly) disappears, and take away the push on the first 40 and the slowness (hopefully) on the last 60 is lessened for an overall better time. Looking forward to Rocky Raccoon in February now. :)

There's probably more to say, and I may add it at some point, but thank you again to all who made this possible. Brian, Jenn & Nolan, without whom I wouldn't have finished. Debbie, Ben, Gary, James, Kyle, without whom I wouldn't have started. And my God, without whom it wouldn't even be possible.


More Photos / Videos courtesy of Jenn!