LAVS 500K: Part I - An Adventure Of a Lifetime

"There is no fee, no disclaimer, just 500K of open road.
And the adventure of a lifetime. If you have what it takes to do it" -Laz

It really is a selfish thing to commit a week to a race, but if you get the right thing out of it, it could be the smartest thing you ever did. -Charlie Taylor

I've lost track of the number of times I’ve started to write this report.  I’m virtually desperate to put this experience down on “paper” yet…I'm resigned to the fact there's simply nothing I can write that will do justice to the magnitude of this experience or convey what it took to complete this race.  In fact, it's still hard for me to even believe I ran (and I use the term loosely) 314 miles (more like 330 miles if you count all the “bonus” miles).

In Linden on the morning of day 4, I was ready to QUIT. The rains that hit us on day 3 (Saturday), resulted in the worst blisters and most tender feet I've ever had. I couldn't put weight on my feet. I couldn't put a shoe on my left foot. Yet somehow, I ran 51 miles that day and I kept going...Day after day...after day...after day....I kept going. For six more days.

The daily mileage went something like this:

Day 1/ 57 miles to McKenzie
Day 2/ 58 miles to Parson (50 miles to Parson +8 bonus miles)
Day 3/ 21 miles culminating in a nervous breakdown in Linden
Day 4/ 51 mile push to Columbia after pep talk from Naresh
Day 5/ 49 miles ending with the wildest night of all in Wartrace
Day 6/ 29 miles and a decision to take on crew. And by crew I mean Charles.
Day 7/ 22 miles to Monteagle
Day 8/ 26 miles to Kimball
Day 9/ 14 miles to finish

I ran the last 70 miles or so without shoes- without shoes! THAT'S how wild this story is.


Those highs make you feel like you can ride them right to the rock. The lows like you will never feel better and the rock is a million miles away. - Fred Murolo

In the weeks since Vol State, I've had time to digest the experience for the most part. Vol State is like the most intensely joyful and inspiring running experience you've ever had combined with the funniest running thing that's ever happened to you while you're running the most painful, grueling and disgustingly disappointing race you've ever run. And it goes on for a WEEK.

It's been incredible to read the other runners' accounts and race reports. They are all so good, and are such a source of inspiration. They confirm that indeed I am part of an experience that very few people will ever share. They confirm that it really was as wild as I thought it was.


In his race report, the winner of this year's race, Dan Fox (all Hail! King of the Road!!) likens Vol State to a Mandan Tribe ceremony called the Okipa. He succinctly answers both "Why?" and "How?" when he talks about Vol State as a means to "being the Hero in a myth of your own making"

He perfectly describes the race when he says, "the loose organization of Vol Sate provides just the right proportion of freedom/safety to go hard. And a defined goal: get to the Rock as fast as possible - provides the context. The back roads of Tennessee make a fitting Underworld in which to do battle. Add in the searing weather elements and the stage is set for epic performances." Indeed.

A more epic road race cannot be found. Nor can I imagine that a more intense race experience exists.

The challenge of this race report is to tell both my story and the story of the race. I find it hard to come up with a cogent format in which to relay the race and my own personal tales of the road- they are so intertwined. 

So, what will follow in the next few posts is a sadly inept accounting of the race (which relies heavily on Laz and Carl's updates to the various ultrarunning lists), along with the highlights and lowlights of my own personal experience. It is a long, long, story- and by the time you are done reading it, it will seem as long as the race itself.

But it's a good story. They are good stories- and great experiences. Ones I will cherish for the rest of my life and always look back on with fondness, and a sense of longing.

For I now know that life will never seem quite as alive as it does at Vol State.

Barkley: What Was I Thinking?

I realize now it was probably a mistake to go in to work the day after getting home from Barkley. I mean, how do I reconcile the fact I broke IN to a prison in the dead of night with this stack of papers on my desk?

It’s like Barkley switched on my prehistoric brain and I'm having trouble switching it back. I can readily deal with the possibility of falling off a cliff while being lost “out there”, but answering a phone? What planet does THAT happen on? I’m staring at this box of highlighters on my desk like they're moon rocks. What ARE these things? And when will I remember why I find them necessary?

Like so many others, it will take me a while to “normalize” and absorb everything that happened before, during, and after Barkley. Barkley changes you, and it’s hard to force yourself to put everything in to words when you’re still trying to understand it. But you have to weigh that against the fading memories that will be gone forever if you don’t act.

Now, more than ever, I know this is an event you have to experience to appreciate. To attempt one loop is to know not how difficult, but how IMPOSSIBLE this event truly is. And I say this even after watching not one but THREE people finish this year, and six people complete the “Fun Run”.

As for my 1-loop experience, I found myself scraped, alone, lost, found, befriended, and continually tortured in seemingly endless ways. I climbed almost 11,000 feet, descended the same amount of treacherous downhill, jumped off a cliff, bush wacked through briars, creeks, rocks and trees, located 11 books hidden in the woods, and found my way back to camp in a 18 hour and 46 minute timeframe of seriously difficult effort.

I was rewarded with a spectacular DNF.

It was the best day EVER.


Foothillz Foolz, Meet April Foolz
Charles and I drove up to Frozen Head State Park on Wednesday for Saturday’s race. In contrast to last year, we arrived to a completely full campsite- and the entire vibe was different than last year. There were a lot more people, including a documentary film crew.

We were starting to get worried about where we'd be staying when Carl Laniak and Co. drove by on their way out to dinner. Wouter Hamelink was in the van and he solved our problem by kindly offering us a place to pitch our tent at his campsite. Later, we invited Thomas to join us as well ('cause everyone knows it's not a party 'til the 'Snail arrives).

Wouter is awesome. His name is more difficult to pronounce than mine, so I like him based on that alone. But after just a few minutes with Wouter, anyone would love this guy.




Weight List Therapy
I remained #4 on the weight list for weeks. However, with last minute weight list activity, Travis Wildeboer was #1 and I was #2 going in to Barkley week. By Friday, Travis was in and I was next up. I was in exactly the same position Charles was in last year (what are the chances?).

Being #1 on the weight list is horrible for obvious reasons. In fact, the weight list concept is just horrible. I mean, it’s hard enough to train through the winter knowing you’re actually IN the race. Try training for the hardest thing you possibly may ever attempt while not even knowing if you’ll get in. Then sit back and watch your motivation climb and descend faster and farther than you ever do. It’s not fun.

Needless to say, my head was not in an ideal place upon arrival at FHSP. Up until about 5 weeks out, I had trained fairly well (or so I thought. It's funny how that changes post-Barkley). But suddenly I wrote a BOOK! work overtook everthing in my life and I was working 10-16 hours a day. My training fell apart. However, I wasn't all that worried - I actually didn't believe I was going to get in.

Now it looked as if I might just get in, afterall.

Talk about race anxiety. With more than 2 days to stew in the race anxiety of all race anxieties, I mentally fell apart. I focused on my lack of training, on how I "sacrificed" my aerobic base for less, climbing-specific miles and then lost even that fitness. I doubted the training I did, and the training I didn't do. I doubted my decision not to drop, and basically my sanity in general. Things spiraled downward from there . It got ugly.

By Thursday night, I was in such bad shape and was bringing such negativity to Charles everyone around me, I finally forced myself to stop focusing on the anxiety itself and trying to find reasons to justify it, and looked within for answers. I asked myself what was truly going on. Surely all this commotion isn't just about some dumb race??

Of course not. The race was is just a perfect excuse for long hidden fears to arise and take hold. What a nightmare...Barkley had become a perfect storm of fear.

Not to spend too much time on this, but as a race experience, this was a good one. Barkley raised the bar of fear so high for me that it facilitated a breakthrough. I was able to see the fear for what it was - in this case a perfect example of how losing my mom at a very young age created a certain insecurity within me that plays out when I'm confronted with new (and fearful) situations in my life. The best thing about seeing this was that I immediately knew the solution to the problem. My takeaway is this- the answer is never to think smaller, or be or do less, but to see the fear for what it is and do what I need to do anyway.

Uh huh…and you thought this was just gonna be a race report about some really tough trails with names like Testicle Spectacle and Rat Jaw. Instead, you get Barkley therapy. You can thank me later.

As it is with many of my "big" insights, I feel kind of dumb when the realization sets in. It always seems so obvious. I will say this, though- as anyone who has survived early childhood tragedy knows, things don’t become available for healing in the order you always expect them to. You take what you can get when you can get it, even if it's at the Barkley Marathons. I'm just thankful that there has been as much grace in my life as there has been tragedy.

Oh, $hit. I'm IN
So, I got in to the race at about 9:30 Friday night. There were rumors that Luis Escobar would not be arriving at Barkley as expected. He supposedly was involved in the search party for Caballo Blanco (Micah True) - of "Born To Run" fame. Apparently, Caballlo had gone out for a 12-mile run and never returned. Sadly, the rumors were true. Caballo was found dead, apparently of natural causes, on Saturday. Read the story here.

The story of how I got in to the Barkley stands alone, but on a personal note, it got even better when I arrived home and googled "luis escobar". I wanted to know more about the runner that enabled me to get in to the Barkley. Perhaps I would "friend" him on facebook and send him a thank you message. Guess what? As soon as I read a little about him, I was like, "Oh! That Luis Escobar!!" I know exactly who he is- because we both grew up in Central Coast,CA (he's from Santa Maria and I'm from Arroyo Grande). I knew his name as a x-country phenom when I went to Arroyo Grande High School in 1981-82. Wild, huh?

Getting Ready
In theory, the race could actually start in a few short hours. Although, Charles and I didn't really think it would- not with a new first section that sounded kind of dangerous, and with a film crew here. But you never know...

Now that I had my head firmly screwed on, I got my things ready and went to bed early. Surprisingly, I slept really well. We heard the conch shell blow right after 8:00 a.m., and I went to work getting ready. What a difference a day can make! I was totally focused and ready to make the very best of my situation. I was calm but excited.

Georgia Snail & Psyche- Getting Ready (to each his own)

Now that I was in the race, I wanted to be included in Geoffrey Baker's "portrait project" and I went over to his tent to have my "before" portrait taken.

Geoffrey S. Baker Photography Tent

Before I knew it, I was milling around the yellow gate with the others as if in some surreal dream where the hardest race on the planet is begun with the lighting of a cigarette.





Witness the typical all-out sprint start. Ultra style.

Book #1- Pillars of Death, the Flume of Doom, and Hiram's Gambit
Perhaps I should have mentioned this at the start. Finding books 1 and 2 at the Barkley is the most exciting thing I have EVER done. I truly don't have words to describe the heart-pounding adventure this was.

Earlier today, I was walking down our road with Leopold and we startled some deer. They ran through the forest and across the road, and the very last deer jumped all the way across the road from the forest in one leap. You could feel his fear and adrenaline.

It was like that.

But not right way. Immediately after starting, I noticed nothing was going as I expected. I assumed everyone would take off and I would be hard pressed to keep up. My "plan" was to make sure I did not lose sight of Frozen Ed and/ or Leonard Martin. Instead, both of them were well behind me, and I found myself leading a small group that included Joel Gat and Tim Hardy. We all walked up the first couple of steep miles of Bird Mountain "candy ass" trail in a group.

Joel had Laz's instructions out and it seemed the group I was in was paying close attention, even while talking all the while, so even though I was "leading" this little group, I wasn't really paying too much attention myself.

Soon, we arrived at the top of Bird Mountain and turned left on to the Cumberland Trail (a new section this year). I was curious about the "Pillars of Death" I heard about in camp the night before. Thomas had been up here exploring the trail the day before, so I knew I wasn't looking for pillars that went UP, but ones that I would walk over. And they were cool:

Pillars of Death - photo courtesy Matt Mahoney

Immediately past these rocks, I decided to heed Laz's words about taking advantage of any flat, runnable sections. I was jogging down the trail when I heard Joel call my name, and in whatever time it took for me to run the 50-100 feet back the way I came, I knew I was fucked my entire race experience was formed. I watched the entire field of runners cut across a small hill and begin running down the other side. And they were moving incredibly FAST.

I got a glimpse of Frozen Ed and Leonard Martin- Leonard was wearing a red and white shirt and all I knew was that I had to keep that red and white shirt in sight as if my life depended on it.

Later, several people said and wrote in their reports, "I saw this section was called 'Hiram's Gambit' so I figured I better stick with Hiram." That never even occurred to me. My one consolation is that you can go here to see how much good it did Hiram to be Hiram.

This is the view going down Check Mate Hill - courtesy Matt Mahoney

As I flew through "fanghorn forest", it registered that the section was aptly named- what a creepy forest. The forest leads you to Check Mate Hill where you descend 1300 feet in less than 1/2 a mile. Of course, at the time, I didn't know this was Check Mate Hill. I was out of my mind, trying to keep any human being that I could in my sights.

This photo gives a better view of how steep Check Mate Hill is (courtesy Matt Mahoney)

Everone was just gone, except this one guy with longish grey hair (I later learned this was Pat). I flew down the hill, chasing Pat, hoping against hope he was going the right way. I could no longer see Frozen Ed or Leonard Martin.

I was almost all the way down the hill, when I got a really bad feeling- This just can't be right, I thought. I know the book is back up there somewhere and I've screwed up. What a moment of truth. Follow the one person I can still see and assume he knows more than I do...? Or head back UP check Mate Hill? Oh, holy god. I headed back up the hill. I didn't come here to NOT get the book pages, damn it.

About 1/2 way back up, I see people coming towards me. I ask if they've already gotten Book #1 and they say yes. Someone tells me to head back up and angle slightly to the right until I hit a road. Go down the road and I'll find Book 1, they say. Then, (I think it was) Tim Dines says, "Psyche, you've got this." *

So, I climb back up Check Mate Hill, I find the road, I run down the road and I eventually see the rock that Book #1 is hidden under. Just like the instructions say: "The first runner will find the book under a large rock. He may need to wait for the second runner if he is not strong enough to lift the rock."

Oh, noooo..... I can't lift the rock by myself. And I'm...the...last...person...in...the...race. Can you imagine? I get scraped, descend and then climb back up Check Mate Hill to find Book #1, only to realize that I may not be able to physically get the book out from under the rock? No, no, no, no. That is not happening. I pry and pull, and push and shove, until I finally see a bit of plastic. E ventually, I work the book out from under the rock, and get my page! Sweet, sweet victory.

Naresh, Stu, and Terry at Book 1 (courtesy Matt Mahoney)

Book #2 The Rambo Experience
Obviously, I don't bother placing the book back under the rock because 1) I'm not strong enough and 2) I believe I'm the last person in the race. I secure the page in my plastic baggie, and head back the way I came. I read Laz's instructions. I'm supposed to be looking for a creek, but shockingly, I don't see it. I know I have to go back down the hill but I'm not sure where to go down, or if it makes any difference. Then, I see Pat- he's coming up Check Mate Hill just like I did and he's saying he made a huge mistake- he went for Book #1 where it was last year. So I tell him where he can find Book #1, and I continue to try to make sense of Laz's directions.

Eventually, I decide to wait and follow Pat. I figure he must be a vet if he knew where Book #1 was last year. When I see him, I say something like, "I don't know where the hell I am so I'm following you." He mentions something about a jumble of cable being a landmark, and heads down Check Mate Hill that way. I follow, until we get to a section and it becomes unclear how to proceed. Laz's instructions say to be careful not to go too far to the right because there are dangerous 40- 60' cliffs, but this guy is moving.

All of a sudden, he finds a rock face drop off, and jumps off of it. He begins descending. I'm like, "mother fucker!!" "Hell no!" but then I remember: I'm LOST. And he's gonna be GONE in a few seconds. I decide to follow, and I take my pack off and throw it, along with my trekking pole, down the cliff ahead of me. I remember saying, "Sorry, honey" out loud right before I jumped, because I knew Charles would not like what I was doing...at all.




Naresh and Terry Cash going down the Flume of Doom (courtesy Matt Mahoney)

Later, I heard this section was called the Flume of Doom. I don't think I actually went down the Flume per se, but rather jumped off the cliff you see in the picture above. It was scarey as all hell.

The fear did not let up. Pat was now almost completely out of sight, and he was bushwacking down the side of the mountain just freakishly fast. It was incredibly hard to run fast enough to keep him in my sights. Especially as I'm having a heart attack. The whole section down to Phillips Creek had such a surreal, dream-like quality to it. I was chasing Pat, but it also felt like I was being hunted. It somehow reminded me of Rambo- the forest scene in First Blood where Rambo is forced to hurt the officers who are hunting him. He tells them to get over hunting him or they will get a war they will never forget. At any moment, I expect Rambo to silently step from behind a tree, or spring from his lair in the leaves beneath me. Surrrreal, I say...

I've now completely lost sight of Pat. I decide to head down to the water instead of bushwacking just above it. I don't even know why. I honestly think my race is over. I take my time and follow the creek, thinking it will eventually lead me... somewhere. I can decide the best course of action at that point.

Then I look up, and right in front of my face is the rock cairn where Book #2 is hidden. Damn! Barkley is nothing but a series of emotional ups and downs!


Rock Cairn where Book #2 was found (photo from 2010 Barkley)


Books #3 and #4 - Takin It Down a Notch
Now I know exactly where I am... and I know where Book #3 is located. I secure my page, get water, cross the creek and begin climbing up to Jury Ridge. This section is on "candy ass" trail and it's a tough climb and everything, but nothing like what I just went through. Mostly, I feel a little depressed because I know I'm last (turned out not to be true) and it's hard to make myself hurry.

I do run all the downhills of this section and I keep checking Laz's instructions, wondering when I'll get to Son of a Bitch Ditch. I also think that no one better tell Laz that this whole section is quite runnable if you're so inclined.

The Garden Spot was tricky to find and I wasted a lot of time, but it seemed to me I could follow the directions for the most part, even if I lost a lot of time doing it.

By the time I was on Stallion Mountain, I was losing heart and considering taking one of the roads back to camp. Can you believe it? After all that initial excitement, I was having a hard time facing the prospect of navigating the rest of the course alone and it taking me for freaking EVER to finish a loop.

Just as I was finding Book 4, I look down the trail and...Naresh and Matt Mahoney are walking towards me!!! GET OUT! I was so happy to see them! I knew right then I would finish and it would be perfect. I mean what's not to love about how this turned out? Matt Mahoney, the godfather of Barkley, gives Naresh and I a personal tour.





align="left">I'll end this story with a few photo highlights of the rest of the journey. Matt took some phenominal pictures, and it was such an honor to complete the loop with him. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect experience, especially since I don't know if Naresh will even be here next year. It was the best day ever.








Book 5 at the swamp

Book 6 at Raw Dog Falls

Breaking IN to the Prison for Book 8








The rusty barrel on the way to Pig's Head Creek













Congratulations to the 3 finishers this year.
I still can't fathom what you did.

* You have no idea what that meant to me, Tim. Thank you.

Barkley 2011

After spending six days in Frozen Head State Park bearing witness to the most incredible endurance achieve- ment I have ever seen (not to mention being in the company of such incredible people), adjusting to "real life" feels more like a smack down than a let down.

As I look back on the Barkley weekend, I realize several things...

First, and without a doubt, the Barkley Marathons is truly the ultimate endurance race that requires training specificity. Yielding just 10 finishers in its 25 year history, if you look at the long distance experiences of those who have survived the entirety of being "Out There" you see a common thread- these are guys who have made it their business to suffer for more than just days on end.. sometimes for weeks and even for months.

As Sherpa John recently noted, the Barkley is probably easier for them because in their eyes it's one of the shorter events they've endured. Indeed, the bottom line for success at the Barkley appears to be the ability to suffer for long periods of time... and with a quiet patience.

The take away for me for my attempt next year (if I get in!) is to train with a speed hiker's mindset, with lots of climbing and lots of relying on self sufficiency. Can you say Bartram and Foothills Trail? Good thing Charles and I were already talking about running the entire Bartram Trail- this will surely be good Barkley training.

Aside from trying to wrap my mind around what it takes to finish 1 loop let alone 5 loops, for me the overwhelming experience of being a Barkley weight lister at camp this year was simply the the honor of being in the company of some of the world's greatest people and athletes. The humility and spirit of the Barkers has left me nothing short of renewed, inspired, and grateful.

Finally, and I honestly have no words to convey what this experience was like, it was simply amazing to witness Charles' most awesome defeat by this race that eats its young. He suffered the pain and had the privilege of being "out there" and in doing so joined the ranks of some of the luckiest people on the planet- he is now a Barker.

Here is his race experience in his own words:

"Today, even though it is close to a week after my tapping out, it is difficult to put into words all that I experienced while "Out There" at the Barkley this year. I certainly have a newfound respect for both the wild nature of this area and those strong enough to tackle this tremendous challenge. I feel somehow changed, more in tune with myself, than I ever have. Stronger, yet also more vulnerable.

Until Friday the 1st, as far as I knew I was still # 1 on the weight list - starting out at # 21 when the list was first published by Laz I had no expectations of getting in but over the last several weeks my name kept moving up until there it was perched right at the top. I had no choice but to prepare to run. Psyche on the other hand had moved up from # 6 on the weight list all the way up to the # 3 spot - she was getting prepared to run also.

We had originally planned on traveling up to Frozen Head to crew and lend support for our friend Joe Lea (aka Marmot) who had secured one of the slots. We knew Marmot was very strong and thought he might have a real shot as a contender. But when our names moved up on the weight list our focus shifted more to our own aspirations.

I think I had somewhat of a portent of things to come when on the drive up on Wednesday I passed by a strange assortment of dead animals - a beaver, a coyote, and a hawk!

Arriving late Wednesday Psyche and I secured a spot and setup camp. It was fantastic to meet some of the other early arrivers, "Frozen" Ed and his lovely wife Gail, Carl Laniak, Chip Tuthill, Dale Holdaway, James and John Demers, and others.

Spent Thursday sightseeing around Wartburg, hiking along the Obeds scenic river, driving up 116 past Brushy Mountain Penitentiary, and getting our things together in the event we might be "in the race".

Friday was surreal as we met more and more folks filling up the campground and finally strode up to the big white tent to meet Laz and inquire about our entries, license plates in hand. Laz informed me that I was in the race taking over John Dewalt's spot!!! So the next order of business was to go and get the topo maps we had purchased at park headquarters the day before and mark up the route on them. After doing that we went into town and lunch at Hardee's while I laminated my course directions with clear packing tape.

Friday night we sauntered up to the main gathering to eat and meet a few more folks. I never did get any of the infamous Barkley chicken because every time I went over to the grill there were no pieces ready, and then when I went back over someone had already gotten the "cooked" pieces off the grill! Damn...:)

Naresh arrived late Friday night with wild stories of a naked guy all jacked up on meth who had literally vaulted over Naresh's car next to the front gate to the park! Wow, it seems fitting that happened at the Barkley!

I laid down about 10:30 that night and actually managed to sleep about 1.5 hours until I was awakened by the conch blowing loudly through the camp at 12:07....and then again it blew! Christ! From then on it was a mad scramble to shower, get dressed, lubed, and all my gear on and ready for a cold nighttime start at 1:07 am. I struggled up the hill only to see that the race had just started and runners were moving steadily up the road toward the first climb up Bird Mountain. And I missed the cigarette lighting completely!

That initial climb up Bird Mtn was slow but definitely hard and I was sweating hard by the top. I had originally run to get in the middle of the pack but fell back a little on the climb. At the very top Iso Yucra passed me and left me standing still as he flew down the trail on the other side. All I remember about this section of trail (and true about much of the North Boundary trail) is that almost all of it was pitched and the footing was difficult/slick from recent rains. I'm still nursing a broken arm from a trail fall 8 weeks ago and have to be extra careful about falling on it again so much of the time I moved slower than the other runners on the wet terrain.

Reached Book 1 without any problem and grabbed my page, but my first mistake was that my ziplock bag was in my pack which was painfully slow to take off and put on for every book stop - later I would simply stuff the baggie in my front pants pocket. After we crossed Phillips Creek and started heading up the next climb I realized I had lost my trekking pole that I thought had been securely tied to my pack! Damn again!

Along the NBT I remember quite a bit of steep climbing on the trail and marveling at how strong the other runners were. I played tag with Allan Holtz and fell in and back with a group that included Frozen Ed, Sue Thompson, Abi Meadows, Paul Lefleholz, Dale Holdoway, and a couple others. Along this section my legs started to cramp but I was ok when I just continued on - but thoughts of having to quit early on due to spasms had me worried. During this time I heard thunder and soon some rain and small hail started falling. I struggled with the hood on my rain jacket but couldn't figure out how to clasp it so I started getting a thorough soaking. My low point on this section came at a small ditch soon after we crossed Son of a Bitch Ditch - my left leg totally seized up and I was left lying in a muddy ditch unable to move unable the cramps subsided, all the while hail was falling all around me!

On up to the coal ponds and the Garden Spot, Stallion Mountain, Fyke's Peak (which I don't remember at all!), and down to the New River was somewhat of a blur as I tried to stay with the group. They were much stronger than me on the climbs but I could usually catch them on the descents. That whole area is very eerie and traversing it at night only enhanced that foreboding feeling. I was terrified of being separated and struggled mightily to stay with the group as we all climbed around up and over the cross country terrain, sliding down steep slopes on my ass and using small trees as climbing poles to get up the steeper slopes.

We finally made it down the steep descent down a leaf filled draw to the New River and found a place to cross. The others were able to jump from rock to rock without getting their feet wet but with my paranoia about falling on a slick rock and rebreaking my arm I just wading right through the water - that would be my method to cross all subsequent streams. From the river was a jumble of downed trees to climb over and navigate around before we climbed up and over 116, traversed downroad and into the woods again. This took us up into a virtual swamp where the mud was so deep it almost sucked my shoes off. We spent about 10 minutes there hunting around before someone found Book 4. Next up - climb up the Testicle Spectacle!

Kent Moeller and I were the last to start up the climb and I quickly realized that I would never be able to catch everyone else on this huge climb, so, including Kent, I let them all go and struggled up it at my own pace. The briars were something to contend with but it was generally easy to avoid most of them. The climb itself is an unrelenting beast and gets steeper as you get closer to the top. A couple of times I actually had to grab thick briar stalks to help pull me up the muddy slope!

Once at the top there was no trace of anyone down the Meth Lab Hill side or back on the route I had taken up Testicle Spectacle - I was on my own for the first time in the race, but the sun was coming up and I still had my map, directions, and compass intact. I stopped to rest there, get some food and get my bearings to continue on.

My first of many mistakes came coming down Meth Lab Hill - instead of continuing down quite a bit and past the Neo butt slide I started off the power line cut and into the woods far up the ridge. This cross country jaunt eventually led me down the steep other side of the ridge to Raw Dog falls but I probably lost quite a bit of time. In fact even at Raw Dog falls I had trouble finding Book 5. After 15 minutes futilely searching I realized I was on the wrong side of the creek - at the Barkley perspective is EVERYTHING! Ok, now found the book and then to find Pig Head creek. I had no trouble going down and back up Pussy Ridge (not sure exactly which spot was Danger Dave's Climbing wall but if it is what I thought it was it looked too dangerous to attempt). Up a very steep and broken glass covered hillside to 116 and down a switchback - great, this must be Pig Head Creek but where is the pig head? I'll be damned if I looked and looked but never found it - hiked down the road to the next switchback, back up, and realized I must have been in the right place - but another 20 minutes wasted (I ended up climbing up the right side up a steep embankment and never saw the "trail" on the left side)! This was a tough scramble up the ravine and very steep to get up and on the ridgeline. Had no problem seeing the faint traces of old roadbed but mistake # 3 I followed the road left instead of right! Damn, after going 1/4 mile down I realized my mistake and had to climb back up.

The next section was fairly straightforward as I made my way to the old prison mine and start of the Rat Jaw climb. At this point I was trashed and hungry and sat down to rest. After a few minutes Steve Durbin happened along the trail and I was damn happy to see anyone! Steve and I made our way up Rat Jaw around the left side - this was a BITCH of a climb, especially without my trekking pole, and more than a few times I was on my hand and knees crawling up while sliding halfway back down! Up on top finally we took a break to eat and fill up on water. Howie Stern joined us as he had just arrived at the summit. One of the more humorous situations also occurred as a mother and her 2 daughters made their way to the summit on a hike and we told them a little about what we were doing "out there"!

Steve and Howie started descending Rat Jaw before I did. Once I started the descent I ran into Mike O'Melia on the way up who asked me if I wanted my trekking pole back! He had picked it up on the descent down Bird Mtn. and carried it with him the rest of the way.....I was sure glad to have it back!! The descent down Rat Jaw was uneventful but slow as I picked my way through the woods and got farther away from the power line than I wanted. Once I tracked back over I realized the briars were mostly gone on this lower section so it was pretty fast getting the rest of the way down. On the last steep section of Rat Jaw to the prison I sat down to butt slide and startled a large rat snake who had been sunning on the rocks! He started to rattle his tail to mimic a rattlesnake and actually started coming toward me so I kept poking him away with my trekking pole all the while sliding down to make my get away!

At the prison now but now the problem was figuring out how to get into the tunnel entrance! I walked around both sides before finally settling on a method that had me grabbing the gate with my right hand and I jumped down and swung myself over and onto the ledge, pulling myself up and inside by the gate! Going through the tunnel was one of the most memorable experiences I've ever had! But getting out the other side was no picnic as it was a steep bank with only loose stones to pull yourself up.

Spent some more time getting oriented for the Bad Thing climb and surely lost some time on it. By this time I was wasted and moving slower and slower - still able to climb though as I steadily moved up the mountain. When I reached the summit at last I nailed it because the Needle's Eye was right in front of me! Another break to retrieve my page and rest before staring down the Zip line. This was probably the hardest section for me - just a rugged, steep descent bushwhacking all the while and dodging downfalls, small trees, boulders, briars, and anything else that is an obstacle out in the woods.

I eventually made it down to the creek but mistakenly followed it past the confluence and onto the remains of the "jeep" road. I went down this quite a way before again realizing my mistake and backtracking up and over the creek. Book 9 was pretty easy to find. At that point I was joined by Bob Haugh and together we started up Big Hell. Although I was trashed and running on empty I was anxious to get to the top so I got ahead of Bob and made it to the summit - once again I lucked out and my "line" had taken me directly to the correct capstone where Book 10 was hidden!

From that point on was mostly a hike in as I didn't have enough energy to run - that last 4 miles seemed to take FOREVER and I was surprised to have yet another climb even on this candy-ass trail!

Made it to the campground and ran up the hill just as it was getting dark, something better than 19 hours after I started. Touching the yellow gate, seeing everyone there, and hearing taps played for me was just surreal.

The rest of the time in Frozen Head was spent resting and watching as others finished their races. It was a wonderful experience seeing Joe, John, Nick, and James finish their fun run! And Monday getting to watch as Brett made history was the greatest athletic achievement I've ever witnessed!

All in all, even though my time was way over the limit I am satisfied that I left it all on the trail. Forced to dig deep, by myself, I found out what I am made of and that has made me a better person. Yet longing to push farther....

Psyche, it's your turn next year!!!

Thanks to Laz and everyone else who makes this event what it is, a celebration of the human spirit!

Charles Raffensperger

A huge thank you to Laz and to everyone who makes this race possible. Congratulations especially to Bret Maume for his finish this year, and to everyone that had the courage to start and fail.

See you next year!

CREW REPORT: Pine Mtn. 40-Mile Race

The annual Pine Mountain 40-Miler is put on by GUTS. This year's race was held on December 5, where I was lucky enough to experience this much-beloved race from the perspective of "crew mate".

First, a little about Pine Mountain and the Trail: Back in the 40's, Franklin D. Roosevelt made Warm Springs, GA and neighboring Pine Mountain his home away from home. He would first come here to treat his polio, but soon fell in love with the beautiful scenery of the Appalachian foothills. When visiting, it's not hard to understand why FDR loved it so much. Even in the late stages of autumn, the area boasts a certain mystique and beauty.

FDR visited the overlook below no less than 41 times.

The Pine Mountain Trail begins in FDR Park and extends 23 miles mostly along a ridge. The trail boasts 29,000 feet in elevation change and is known for its diverse terrain, crossing creeks, and climbs up and over ridge tops and traversing past oak, hickory, pine and maple trees. Many sections of the trail are also known for the degree of technical difficulty. The trail is littered with protruding rocks made even more difficult in the fall by the leaves covering the trail.

That sounds beautiful doesn't it? Much better than how Jason Rogers describes it (although I bet every runner on Sunday is taking sides with Jason).

"How can I describe the Pine Mountain trail? Rocks. Lots of rocks hidden by leaves. Lots of rocks that presented a constant danger of trips, bloody falls, hidden "toe catchers" to trip me up, countless small boulders for me to bang my toes on. A few creek crossings that I managed to complete without getting my trail shoes wet."

Photos courtesy of Jason Rogers

After spending the night in Pine Mountain, we headed out early the next day to the Pine Mountain group shelter, where we enjoyed hanging out with several friends. I just have to say that I'm always amazed at the level of camaraderie that exists among runners, but especially trail runners. It seems to be cemmented by a mutual love (and borderline obsession) for something non-runners deem crazy (you’ve heard the “you’re crazy” subtext in your non-runner friends’ comments before).

I feel like this camaraderie is strengthened in some situations (like when you’re running a race that might possibly kill you).

Camaraderie of the crazies - party of 3

As 7:00 approached, we all walked up to the road where the race would start. It was a chilly 28 degrees and barely dusk as we stood there listening to last minute instructions. Then, they were off.

RD extraordinnaire Srah Tynes says, "Sock Monkey not happy with headlamp placement."

How many of these people are going to get "Schicked" today??

The runners headed down a brief stretch of pavement before hitting single track trail.

Leopold and I had made a bunch of signs earlier in the week and I was anxious to get to the first sighting of the runners to get Charles' reaction. I headed over to Buzzard's Roost, which is not an Aid Station but a road crossing about 2 miles in.

Charles came through looking very strong here.

Later, he told me that the guys he was running with said, "Your OUR hero, Charles! How'd you get her to come out here and cheer for you?"

After Buzzard's Roost, I was off to Fox Den Cove, the first official Aid Station, at Mile 5.9. Charles came through in :56 minutes, which is about 9:30 pace. I was alittle worried he was too fast, but he looked very strong and comfortable at this point.

Charles is looking strong at Buzzard's Roost

Next stop: Mollyhugger Hill, which served as mile marker 10.8 and 31.54. This Aid Station was a lot of fun, but I was getting a taste of how cold this day was actually going to be.

Yeah, it was that cold.

My favorite sign

Charles continued to look strong and keep a fairly consistent pace. Whenever he dropped off it was because of a particularly difficult stretch.

As I spent the day wandering from Aid Statin to Aid Station, I enjoyed the sights quite a bit. Here are some of my favorite things from the race:

Favorite costumed volunteer dudes.

Favorite grilled cheese.

Favorite HTFU dude.

Favorite HTFU guys number- which should serve as the marketing photo for next year's race.

All in all, I had a fantastic adventure. I am so proud of Charles! Covering 40 miles in 9:16:02 (average pace of 13:54), he is the true defintion of an Ultrarunner. Recently, fellow trail runner and blogger Jon Harrison wrote something that pretty much sums up what I was thinking and feeling as I watched Charles charge in to the finish:

Being in nature, one is left with no choice but to marvel at creation. Be it vast flatlands, rugged mountain tops, or a simple stream snaking its way down a mountain, it is sure to inspire awe in even the hardest of hearts. Despite this, I truly believe that the finest of all God's creations lies in the mind of man. One can shatter a rock with the proper hammer, dam any river with enough concrete, burn any forest in conducive conditions, but the will of man is something far harder to shake.

Thank you Sarah Tyne for putting on such a great race, and a big thanks to Woody for the awesome post race meal! See you next year.