Another Christmas Song - lyrics

 

Another Christmas Song

There's a foot of freshly fallen snow,

if this were a school day,

there'd be cancellations on the radio

It's still dark out,

but I've already had three cups of coffee;

I'm wired as I go out for a run

In the tracks of a pick-up truck,

on a favorite county road;

it's dark out, but the sun will soon be up

It's rays reflecting off a barren field;

a cardinal sings along the way;

it's as if creation must proclaim...

It's Christmas Day, let the earth rejoice,

it's Christmas Day, give your joy a voice

it's Christmas Day, silence the noise,

from a world that cannot comprehend

the joy and peace the Lord would bring

into our hearts through Christmas Day.

I get back and home and shower,

and I find the easy chair,

as the smell of breakfast permeates the room

The kids are playing, passing time,

anxiously awaiting, to open gifts

and hear the Christmas tale

Of the reason why we celebrate

a little town called Bethlehem,

and hear of angels singing in the fields,

and shepherds who abandon flocks

and wise men would have traveled far,

to lay their costly gifts before a child...

It's Christmas Day...

Noel, Noel

O Little Child of Bethlehem,

Hark the Herald Angels Sing

O Come Ye Faithful,

let the earth receive her king...

It's Christmas Day...

Buffalo Mountain Endurance Challenge: Oct 3-4, 2020

First, this might rank as my favorite race venue ever! It's little valley nestled amongst the mountains where the Methodists used to host a summer youth camp until mud slides did so much damage that they abandoned the venue, but has since been rescued and turned into a nice little retreat center that hosts weddings and other special events. Roxanne and Billy have done amazing work to clean, repair, and keep The Buffalo Camp open.

The course: Netta says it's 70-30, paved to unpaved, Tony says 60-40, but regardless, it's 95-5 in terms of elevation change,and better measuring devices than my eyes might say there's not even 5% flat surface – lol. Still, it's a fast course, as I was to learn as the race unfolded.

I arrive late afternoon, Thursday, and enjoyed having the place to myself. There had been recent rain, so Dry Creek was a bubbling brook, and there's little more soothing than the sound of water rushing through the rocks. I sleep well, despite temps dropping into the low 40's by morning.

The race starts at 8pm, so around 5pm, I fix my first cup of real coffee in two weeks. I've been enduring a blend of 85% decaf and 15% regular, hoping any caffeine I consume during the race will have a better kick. I also heat up a can of Progresso chicken noodle soup and mix in a whole bag in Four Cheese instant potatoes. This isn't bad, but maybe next time I'll use just a a half-bag of potatoes!

My race starts out well. The course is 1.25 miles long, and I soon realize that a 15 minute/lap pace might work for me, at least for a while. By the six-hour mark, I've reached 30 miles and know I'll be needing to slow soon. I drank a wide range of beverages: Coke, Dr Pepper, Sunkist, coffee, Sword, and even (gasp!) water – lol. I ate a little here and there and my stomach responded well. The cooler temps must suit me :)

Early on, I knew I was 5^th place male, but I didn't focus on that. I only want to know two things: what lap number I've just finished and what my elapsed time was on the previous lap. I believe that if I set my goals right and hit my marks, the race will take care of itself. However, I am aware that that Tom Ecay and Shawn ??? are running up the hills, lapping me with abandon. There's no temptation to follow suit, but I'm impressed and a bit envious of their ability.

As I settle in, I decide that breaking the race up into three 12-hour segments might help with my goal and pace setting. I want 100 laps (125 miles), and a 40-40-20 strategy seems doable. Paul Heckert, an astronomy professor, points out Mars, Jupiter and Saturn in the night sky. It's a beautiful night, and if the moon isn't full, it's very close to it! The temps drop into the upper 30s, but I remember what Tony said about regulating my body temperature and modify my dress accordingly.

By 8am, I've reached 45 laps (56.25 miles), and the daylight hours, which should be good ones, aren't going as well as I've hoped. I've slowed to 17 minutes per lap, and even that pace is erratic. I'm glad I built up that five-lap buffer, but I don't like it that I'm struggling. Lianne Jennings did ask for my thoughts on when to take a break, and I had been thinking about right around sundown, as it would still be warm enough to not feel chilled to the bones when I get up to head back out on the course. My answer is holding me accountable, but these laps are not going well. I even take a five-minute lay-down on the concrete at the aid station!

                                                                (photo by Laurie Matecki)

I share my frustration with Tony, and he asks me about my salt intake. He tells me that I am one of the few people sweating, and that even in the cooler temps I am losing electrolytes. I confess that I haven't been, so I immediately down two Salt Stick caps, a caffeine pill, and a vitamin B-12, hoping that the whole mess doesn't come right back up on me. My pace does not improve, but it does not appear to getting worse, and I keep counting down the laps. I really appreciate Tony converting my lap numbers into miles, as it gives me more reference points to celebrate. I need eighty laps to reach the 100 mile mark, and having goals within the goal helps keep my mind in a slightly more positive space.

I reach the 100-mile mark before dark (around 22.5 hours), the first time I've done a sub-24 hundred in a long time, and this while walking all the uphill sections! I reward myself with a break in my zero-gravity chair, and a change of batteries in my handheld for the night ahead. It wasn't to be. The flashlight doesn't turn on, and the new batteries, really are new, and putting the old batteries back in doesn't solve the problem either! I have a headlamp, so it will have to do. As for a nice comfy nap? Nope! The legs are twitching and kicking and I can't get comfortable. Nothing to do but get back at it.

I only need twenty laps to reach my goal, so I walk a lot more, still hoping to keep my pace under 20 minutes per lap. I'm in a close race with Tom for the lead, as Shawn, who finished his 100 miles at least 90 minutes before, is no longer on the courser. (Shawn had dropped from the 36-hour to the 24 before the race, though I didn't learn that until later, so kept wondering if he would be back after a few hours of sleep.) Tom rests a little too, but comes back out to help Greg reach his first-ever 100-mile finish. Liann is still moving well, and has her sights on a new distance PR. Later, Tom would help her reach that mark also.

I take a two-hour nap when I reach the 90^th lap, and dread getting back out in the cold night air. I bundle up, but after the first lap, I'm shedding layers. I take another, even longer nap at the 95-lap mark, but after that (3:30am?), I'm out there, mostly walking, for the rest of the night. At one point I counted six headlamp on the course: Tom and Liane; Paul, who wants to get to his age in miles (67), Don; hoping for 50 miles; Mateo, working hard for his first 100-mile finish; an me. Towards dawn, Laurie Mateki will be back out on the course also. There are many fewer cars in the parking lot.

As the sky lightens, I come across the start-finish line with enough time for one more lap. Tom and Liane are sitting by the fire, but there are others standing around. I ask if anyone wants to do my last lap with me, and Lisa agrees. She's been volunteering and pacing through the night, but is a bundle of energy and positivity. It is a great way to end what has been a great event!!

                                                        (photo by Laurie Matecki)                

I finish with 102 laps, good for 127.5 miles, first place, and an event record.  

                                                     (Jessie's crew: photo by Laurie Matecki)

A few odds and ends.

-During one of the two nights, someone (Landy?) mentioned “to him who endureth to the end” and I ask for the chapter and verse. I spent a lot of time thinking about that, coming up with several possibilities. (I've since looked it up, and one of my guesses was right.)

-I wish I had remembered earlier in the race an idea I had gotten from Kevin Randolph on emptying salt caps into my drink. That might have made a huge difference to my daylight hours and overall performance.

-I saw a house get loaded onto a trailer and hauled away. I learned later that Billy and Roxanne had sold it, and it was getting moved to North Carolina where it will sit overlooking the Appalachian Trail. How cool!!

-Amazing how one event can have so many outcomes down the road. I met Tony, Netta and Carl at a one-off Laz race, the name of which escaped me for many hours during the race. I also met Rick Gray at that event. The race was The Bitter End, a 100-mile journey run that started in Bristol and ended in Jonesborogh, Tennessee's first state capital, back before it was called Tennessee. Later, I would meet Michelle, Liane and a host of others from the Johnson City area, and run several events with the group. I've asked Netta if she's up to another Bloody-Bitter this coming Memorial Day; I didn't finish the first one and I want to make amends. We'll see.

-My sleeping bag stunk SO bad!!! Apparently, airing it out on the clothes line between races isn't sufficient. It's already washed and hanging out to dry, even though it's only 45° outside.

-I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I could settle in for an extended stay at The Buffalo Camp. There were a lot of small cabin-like buildings that were being used for storage, and one in particular has my name on it - rhetorically speakin – right by the creek, a big roofed-over space that would make a great three-season room, all those trails in the mountains... I finally had to drop the topic as it was messing with my focus on the race.

                                                            (my "dream home")

-I think I'll spare you the story about the “moonshine” motivator that wasn't. Too many updates on too many races will do that to one no longer of sound mind or body.  

Veterans Memorial 150

Meme posted on FB by Sandy Junk shortly before the race

Veterans Memorial 150

First off, Michigan is a beautiful place, especially when you get to see it up close and personal. Secondly, Kurt Adams and his volunteers put on a very fine race.

Sherrie and I had decided weeks before to run this together. I have big goals, but having just finished a six-day less than two weeks before, I know I will be in poor shape to run this competitively. Still, we commit to each other to take the race seriously, and go for the best result possible.

The forecast has called for overcast skies, rain, and cool temps, but I think the weather people are batting about .001 this year. It's very humid as we leave Lake Michigan (Ludington) and head east into some beautiful countryside, so country, we soon find ourselves on gravel roads! We pass by asparagus farms being harvested by migrants, ranches raising weird-looking animals we soon learn are elk(s?), and land that is unfit for any kind of farming, and perhaps more beautiful because of it.

As we journey from the start to the first aid station, the RD drives by offering us water, which we declind. After that first aid station (12.6 miles), where I drink some wonderful warm tea and eat a few grapes, we head towards the next aid station, again declining water when a volunteer drove by with a gallon jug in his hand.  Unmanned water stops had been advertised on the webpage, so we think that we'll just wait until we arrive at one and refill there.  Soon after, the sun is shining – overcast skies, eh? - and the temps are climbing – cool temps, eh? - and we are beginning to wonder how our water supply is going to hold out until the Barothy aid station (26.8 miles).  We finally figure out that those water stops are mobile units!  Pretty unexpected but pretty coo! Still, Lesson #1 we learn the hard way – Never turn down a chance to top off your water bottles!

It is great seeing the IT gang at Barothy: Mike, Steve, and Pat are there seeing to all our requests, though this early in the race, we don't have many. Still, familiar faces offer a special kind of encouragement and motivation. Seeing Nick drive up as we leave is an added bonus.

Cindy, Szu-ying Huang, Mike Pfefferkorn, Jenniffer Jordan, Nick Brandt, Sandy Junk, Pat McQuinn, Steve Carr
(Photo by Kurt Adams)

Sherrie and I have run a lot training miles together, and we've worked out this weird run-walk thing where one of us points to a tree, mailbox, crack in the road, or whatever, and say “what do you say we run to there?” and when we get there we start to walk until one of us says it's time to run again. It works well for us here on this gently rolling terrain, and we maintain a sub-12min/mile pace for much of the early going.

During this stretch, I encounter a runner I know by name from an email list that I used to frequent. He has run this race before, and tells us that last year temps reached 90°F and the heat index topped 100°. He also comments on how he is feeling the effects of the sun as it radiates off of the pavement. I hadn't noticed this, but I begin to seek shade along the road whenever possible, though it is becoming more scarce. (Andrew, it was great meeting you in person!)

At the third aid station (38.2 miles), I really began to appreciate how much our crew (Jenniffer Jordan and Sandy Junk) are spoiling me. The chicken/avacado wrap and ice-cold beverage far surpassed anything I would have been treated to at the aid station, though this shouldn't be taken as a slight towards the volunteers and what they were providing for the runners. I've seldom had anyone to crew me at races like this, and never have I experienced this level of support. Spoiled is much too mild a word. I decide to change shoes for the next stint, another advantage of having a crew - if the switch doesn't prove a good choice, I can always switch back.

(Photo by Sandy Junk)

Forgive me for channeling my inner-Everett (O Brother, How Art Thou), but I'm a S-Cap man. Unfortunately, I didn't bring any along, so back at Barothy, when I asked the IT guys if they had any S-Caps,  Jenniffer quickly responded that said she had some Enduralytes. I kind of turned up my nose, but thankfully, better judgment prevailed, and I took a small baggie of them with me. As the temps rise and we continue to sweat, we occasionally force one down. This is a hint of things to come, but we don't know that yet.  By Baldwin (44.7 miles), it is mid-afternoon and we were feeling the effects of the full sun. My buddy has already dropped and is suffering far more than he let on.  We were are moving at a decent pace,, but we are doing a lot more walking than running. Anyone who's spent time on the roads or trails with Sherrie knows that her walk is faster than a lot of peoples' run, so we really aren't falling too far behind the little goal sheet (one of the best works of fiction ever!) that we had conjured up before the race.

We leave the roads after Baldwin and head out on the Pere Marquette State Trail, a wonderful rail to trail path we will be on for the next forty-four miles. The sun is now behind us, cooking us from behind. The next aid station is nearly eleven miles away. There is no opportunity for the volunteers to top off our water bottles any more. Fortunately, we come across a fellow-runner's crew at a cross-roads and they give us some of their water, but by the time we reach Chase (55.6 miles), we are toast. This is our Valley Forge.

Jenniffer and Sandy are no longer spoiling us; they are saving our race! Sherrie climbs (with "help"-lol) into the back of her car, and I lay down beneath the rear bumper. I don't sleep much, and I'm chilled, but it feels good to be off of my feet. The rest of our time here is really Sherrie's story to tell, but I have to say that having a crew who knows you well certainly has its advantages. They know just what Sherrie needs and how to motivate her to do what she needs to do. Also, the mac 'n cheese from the aid station hits the spot! We spend (invest) 45 minutes or more, every second essential, to rest, hydrate and eat. Lesson #2 – Temperatures are relative. Even though we both ran at Holston River the summer before, where temps touched 90°, this was the warmest day yet of a new spring/summer, and our bodies havn't adjusted. This is probably the biggest reason so many people will end up dropping. Taking time to recover adequately instead of going back out still half-baked is the right move. Our crew make sure we are ready before letting us go. Tough love indeed...but just what we need!

It is dark when we set back out. It is nearly ten miles to Hersey (66 miles), and that takes us almost three hours!  Off and one we wonder if we will fall asleep on our feet!  I get a text from Jenniffer informing me that they have no way of meeting us with additional fluid, but at one crossroad we see two jugs of water and we text that information back to her.  They are able to park and get some well-deserved sleep while we continue trudging through the night.  When we reach Hersey, a volunteer invites us to take a nap on some comfortable cots.  Just when I begin to fear I will get too cold to sleep, another volunteer appears with blankets!  A good thirty-minute nap, some coffee, and a few calories later, we hit the trail.  It's another 10 miles to Evart (76.2 miles), and we arrive there around 4am.  We take a much shorter nap, me in the front seat of the car, before heading back out.  Day two is about to make its appearance.

I find a cap on the trail, a nice white one, so I pick it up and put it in my pocket. We're still doing more walking than running, and some of that walking is more of a stagger, even in the daylight, but when one of us is tired, the other seems able to carry on, so thus we continue. When we run locally, there's usually little silence, mostly because I can chatter non-stop and Sherrie doesn't seem to mind my blathering, but we aren't talking much now, and we both comment on it.  I guess us not talking is something to talk about - lol.  We are struggling, but neither of us is going to utter the “d” word, no way! Lesson #4 – when you decide to run a long race with someone, pick someone you don't want to let down. That sense of commitment will keep you moving and squelch a lot of negative talk that can cascade into a DNF.

We get to see the entire IT gang at Coal Tower (89.8 miles), and what a delight! Nick gets me some coffee and Pat lets me borrow a short-sleeved shirt. (Remember that weather forecast? I had taken it seriously and packed two or three long-sleeved shirts. Joke's on me!) I am also developing a problem on the top of my left foot – a nerve or something is getting pinched. This is race-threatening, and I am afraid of the the pain working it's way up my shin like it did a year ago in Hungary during a six-day. All I could think to do is to take the laces out near the sensitive spot.  I reject the idea of taping it, it just didn't seem like that right fix, even though I have no other ideas. Despite the irritation, we leave in great spirits and headed towards Clare, the hundred-mile mark.

Before reaching Clare (100 miles; 11:10am), we see a three male turkeys trying to impress a small group of females. Instead of ducking into the woods along the trail, they keep moving on ahead of us. They entertain us for quite a while. I also decide to try treating my foot by changing out of a thick pair of socks and into a very thin pair I had purchase many years before, hardly ever worn, and for some reason had decided to pack for this race. Having a crew allows you such luxuries, I guess.

It works! No more problems, not even a hint of what I was feeling before!! Lesson #5 – trust your insights, if you're fortunate enough to be given them! I consider my packing these socks a Divine intervention. Whether it was or not, it was fortuitous to say the least, and a game-saver.

After a brief stint back on the highway, we join another bike trail, but this one provides a bit more shade. It's already the afternoon of day two, and we've had perhaps ninety minutes of sleep, tops. Probably less. We take another nap at Loomis (107.7 miles; 2pm) before heading on to Coleman (113 miles;4pm). Jenniffer “ran” with us to North Bradley (118.4 miles) and then Sandy joined us to Sanford (124.1 miles). I'm not going to say that Sherrie and I are tired of each other's company, we really aren't, but the conversation sure picks up when these two take turns joining us.

A nap at Loomis AS
(Photo by Vincent G C Annica)

Jenniffer ready to boogie, as always!
(Photo by Sandy Junk)

How can you not enjoy spending a few miles with a personality as bodacious as Sandy's?
(Photo by Jenniffer Jordan)

We rejoin the roads shortly after Sanford and headed towards Midland. The day is fading, and there is no sidewak on our side of the highway. Along the way we pass a house that is being built or remodeled, and there is a outhouse outside. We've already learned Lesson #6 – never pass up a facility, especially in the city.

We don't dare crossing to the wrong side of the road for fear of missing the next turn sign – turn signs are always on the left side of the road – and this seems an eternal stretch where we doubt both  ourselves and the turn sheet that had been provided. Also, much of traffic refuses to move over for us, so we have to climb up the curbing into the grass and then back down several times. Ouch!! I decide that once we make it to the next stop light, which seems like it is taking us forever to reach, we will double check the directions. That intersection proves the be the road we are seeking.  Oh we of little faith...

We see our crew for the last time at the Midland Soccer Club (133.8 miles; 10pm) and the volunteer gives me thorough directions for the rest of the course. Naturally, I will remember little to none of them, but I eat some of the best chicken-noodle soup ever and enjoy hearing a Lynyrd Skynyrd song as we gather up strength for the last sixteen miles.

The route is pretty much as I remember it described. Sherrie and I both think we see a large old building with lots of windows on the opposite side of the road, but which turns out to be a bunch of trees. It won't be our only hallucination.

At the intersection of Waldo Rd, a lady comes running out of her house wanting to know if we are part of a group and if we are running for a cause.  Just as she begins telling us that she and her husband are also military vets, we see the volunteer from the Soccer club come behind us and take out the turn sign. I try reminding him that there is another runner still behind us, but he assures me that that is no longer the case. Hmph...we're dead last. LOL. As we walk Waldo Rd, there is very little berm and a deep ditch with a lot of stagnant water. Again, some of the traffic doen't want to give us much room.  Sherrie asks me if I want the DFL award and I answer the question with a question: Do you want the DFL award? She does! That decides our portion of the finishing order!

 The turn sheet says we have one mile to go on this road before turning back east, but it's wrong. We doubt ourselves some more, and I wonder out loud if the volunteer already removed that turn sign, but we keep moving forward. I don't remember having seen any other roads we could have turned east on yet. When we finally find our turn (Letts Rd), the volunteer is there, and though he has pulled the sign, he has been waiting for us.  Nice of him to be so patient.   

The miles to Willard (140.2 miles; 12:30am) go slow, but right before we reached town, a deer saunters across the road. One of the volunteers sees it too, so it really did happen. They are really nice to us there, as everyone has been everywhere, but we don't stick around long. We want this to be over!

Between here and the finish (150.4 miles), we get encouraged by a group of young men in a pick-up truck, who then put the hammer down, only to get pulled over a few hundred yards later by a sheriff.  We come upon a closed convenience store and McDonald's, and here, for the first time, I use my Google Maps to check our location. It isn't bad news, we aren't off course, but it isn't good news either.  We have much further to go than we think!  My legs are rubbery, but Sherrie turns her frustration and disappointment into forward motion and I have little choice but to follow suit. She can't be DFL is she finishes ahead of me - lol.  Within a mile, another vehicle drives up, but there are more than encouraging words! . John and Tiffany Kravec have just left the finish line pavilion, and John gives us precise directions and distance to the finish. We take off "running,"  though are running pace at this point is laughable, John and Tiffany then turn around, drove a few hundred yards up ahead of us, and wait, and then repeat that sequence until we reached the finish!

John and Tiffany Kravec at the start.
(Photo by Sandy Junk)

We finish 6th and 7th - Sherrie gets her DFL, and then learns that she's first female!!  (26 runners had committed to attempting the 150.)  We finished in 43.5 hours, well under the 52-hour deadline.  

Final thoughts:

Mu lowest point would either be late that first afternoon when the heat was getting to us, or the last ten miles that never seemed to end. However, having a lot of confidence in each other's abilities to finish, despite the adversities, helped. We also had a fantastic crew that knew just what to do and when to do it.

Once again I experienced how much fun it is to run an event and just enjoy the course and the people I was with along the way. That doesn't happen often enough for me. Having a crew was a wonderful luxury. I never carry a cell phone with me when I run, but for this race it came in handy, as I could text ahead any special needs or wants we might have.

I have no idea what I'd do different next time, other than not running a six-day event less than two weeks before.

As I said, Michigan is a beautiful state, and this event is a great way to get a close-up look at a small section of it. If you have the opportunity, do it!

Sandy, Sherrie, some old geezer, and Jenniffer
(Photo by John Kravec)

Where Dreams Go To Die

Where Dreams Go To Die

2016 Barkley Marathons

Yes, I had dreams. Dreams of finishing five loops; dreams of being the oldest Barkley finisher ever; dreams far more embarassingly fantastical and story-book than either of these. And yes, they died.  (Que an old Allman Brothers Band song here.)0

I came prepared for five loops: Five quart baggies filled with Lara Bars, Paydays, Cliff Bars, bottles of 5-hr energy drink, instant Starbucks sweetened iced-coffee packets, and something new - zip lock baggies of mac 'n cheese I had prepared at home. I packed extra clothes and a space blanket should it get cold, or should I have gotten lost.

I'm sure I have more than enough hubris,¹ and I have trained pretty hard.² I have learned some about using a map and compass. I have visited the Frozen Head twice to hike the "legal" trails and learn the general layout of the park. However, deep inside, I knew none of this had been enough. My bowels were betraying any level of confidence my heart wanted to believe I had.

Fear was my ever-present companion since I've received my Letter of Condolence. So quickly my fantasies turned to anxiety upon arrival of that email. Even in the hours at the park just before the sounding of the conch, I battled the temptation to pull out of the race. In spite of all the race reports I'd read, I still wasn't sure what to really expect, just that whatever it was, it was going to be hard. The Veterans had a huge advantage: mental pictures and memories of the course, and notes and maps from past attempts. Having none of those things gave me a lot of idle time, and opportunity for new anxieties to develop. More and more often I was questioning why I was there.

One of my wife's dear friends, Tina, gave her a verse of Scripture to pass along to me: "Be strong and courageous and get to work. Don't be frightened by the size of the task, for the Lord my God is with you; he will not forsake you. He will see to it that everything is finished correctly."³ I hadn't attempted to memorize Scripture in years, but I was able to get fragments of this one, especially the lines "get to work," and "don't be frightened by the size of the task." They came to me often while I was "out there."

----------

Friday morning, Laz arrived and we exchanged a warm greeting. He eventually handed out the directions, and set out the map for copying. It was crunch time. Once I'd given Laz my license plate and received my copy of the Official Barkley Marathons Instructions For 2016 (course directions), I headed back to camp and started underlining every detail I thought I might need later. This took nearly an hour.

Copying the map was stressful. I tried very hard to draw my lines down the exact ridgeline Laz used on the Master Copy, while looking over shoulders, checking, double-checking, finally putting marker to paper. Nerve-wracking! I headed back towards camp only to realize ten minutes later that I hadleft the course directions back at the map table! Panic!!! But there they were, right where I had left them.

When will Laz blow the conch? Jim Ball has convinced me that it will be around mid-night, but Saturday arrives and still no signal. Will he wait as long as he did last year? I passed the time putting zinc oxide on the exposed parts of my feet and eating and drinking to stay calm, resisting the temptation to walk mindlessly around camp burning off nervous energy.

Finally, at 9:42am, the conch blows. That final hour went fast, but during my last-minute trip to the bathroom, Mig told me that my trekking poles were anchored in a very dangerous way, one that could put somebody's eye out! With five minutes to go, I was working frantically to fix the problem, even while Laz gave out last minute instructions. As usual for my experience in a Laz race, I didn't actually see the lighting of the cigarette, but people were moving, and I found a spot near the back of the line.

Last minute instructions - photo by K.O. Herston

Jim Ball and me climbing Bird Mountain - photo by John Price

My goal was to keep Hiram, a veteran who knows this course as well as anybody, in sight, but as soon as we cross the Pillars of Doom, Hiram was gone and it was pandimonium as everyone rushed into Fangorn to get to Book 1, every virgin desperate not to get scraped. (There is no chivalry, nor are there good manners at the Barkley. You get your page as quickly as you can and move! It's not really selfishness; it's fear of being scraped, that and the legends passed down around the campfires and blog entreaties of Barkleys past.) Karen and I were the last two, until Benjamin, who overshot the book arrived. We handed him the book and moved on. I took off my pack to get my trekking poles ready, but I had trouble getting the pack back on and snapped correctly, costing me time and frustration. The trekking poles were supposed to be helpful, but at times they were my achilles heel.

I followed another runner down the ridge, but he was much faster and quickly disappeared, leaving Karen, Ben and me to make our own way. As I descended, I slowed myself by falling into trees, several which snapped and fell forward (downhill), one landing on my head. Ouch! Several more trees broke off near ground level when I attempted to use them to control my descent, and Karen remarked that she could follow me by the path of destruction I left in my wake.

We encountered Patrick when we reached Phillips creek, where we were to join the North Boundary Trail, but none of us took a compass reading. We went the wrong way and climbed all the way back to the Cumberland Trail. During this waste of a climb, I tried using my new trekking poles, but a plastic adjusting/tightening connection popped out of the pole, leaving me with one fully functional pole, a short handled section of another, and a section with a spike. We encountered two hikers who knew we were turned around and they directed us back downhill. Already an hour was lost; the dream was slipping away.

Retracing our steps, we hiked up to Jury Ridge and we didn't pick too bad of an line for our next descent. We ended up at the bottom of a convergence of two streams that we thought was the creek convergence we were aiming for, but instead we spent another thirty minutes looking for Book #2.

I have no idea where we went wrong on our climb up the Hillpocalypse, but I don't believe we ever encountered the High Wall we were supposed to work around. My guess is that we traveled far to the right, and after at least another hour of hiking, we finally found a coal road that leds us back towards the NBT. I'm felt pretty good, not about the time off-course, but that I was able to use what little map-reading skills I possessed to find the trail. Of course, once on the trail, we weren't sure if Bald Knob was to the east or to the west of us.

Almost immediately, Kimberly, looking a bit frazzled, came running towards us, greatly relieved to have found some fellow runners. Marianna and Christophe also joined us, and together we again encountered the same hikers we last spoke with a few hours before. Finally determining that Bald Knob is east of us, off we went. I really enjoyed this iteration of the group. Most of us had leadership at one time or other, most of us made mistakes, but we hung together and it was a great collaborative effort.

Patrick, me, Kimberly and Benjamin - photo by Karen Jackson

 We took a short break at Book #3 and ate little bit. I believe we are already six hours into the race, and I had hoped to make Garden Spot (Book #4) in four. I took off my pack, unzipped the back to get a bottle of Ensure out, and then put the pack back on, learned later that I forgot to zip my vest pouch shut, and losing a brand new handheld flashlight as a result. We took the wrong way around the Coal Ponds, but Kimberly, the only veteran among us, remembered enough of the way to get us to Garden Spot. Marianna led us directly to Book #4,where a cairn had been built to honor all Barkley participants who have departed from this life. We each solemnly added a stone to the cairn.

It took us 8 hours to do the first third of the course. The dream of finishing a loop with time to go back out was dead. Evening was upon us; temps were starting to drop. Back and forth we went on the jeep road, but we could not find the path that descended towards Barley Mouth Branch. We explore other jeep roads, as much to stay warm as anything. I knew we were close, but this wasn't horseshoes. We hiked for at least another hour. Darkness descended. I remember thinking that the only way we will find the descent is to wait for the leaders to come through on their second lap, and as we were now approaching ten hours, that would not be too far off. Depressing.

Marianna and Christophe headed down a jeep road that I was sure was going the wrong way. Karen, Patrick and Benjamin decided that it was too cold to continue, and headed for Quitter's Road. Kimberly and I committed to continuing on into the dark, even without a clue as to how we were going to get to Book #5. The fellowship was broken.

As I had hoped, Gary and Jared, the leaders, came running towards us, and offered to lead us to the drop off. We wer so close; we had walked by it at least six times! The others had a chance to join us, but opted to continue their way back to camp. They had dressed for a twelve-hour loop, and well past ten hours, we were not even half-way around.

Jared and Gary climbing Rat Jaw - photo by Chris Gkikas

Gary paid Kimberly and me a nice compliment for contining on when it would have been so tempting to go back with the others. I treasured those words for the rest of the adventure. There were reasons I didn't quit: I didn't want to quit without seeing the course; I didn't want to quit without experiencing being Out There at night; I didn't want to have to look Laz in the face and try to explain why I must not have wanted it bad enough. It helped that I wasn't cold, that I had plenty of food and caffeine, and that Kimberly wanted a complete loop as badly as I did. Down towards Barley Mouth Branch we plunged, descending like the dream, from five loops to one, from fantasy to fiction to reality.  

They guys told us we would reach a jeep road and should turn left. We did, but we did not see Bobcat Rock and the trail down Leonard's Butt-Slide. We marched right past it, turned around, and marched past it again! It was cold, and we needed to keep moving, so Kimberly and I headed back to the creek, ventured around the bend in the road, descended to the creek and crossed it, only to discover there was nowhere to go that way. We came across some abandoned mining equipment, rusting away quietly just above the creek bed and I wondered if I was destined for the same fate. Then Kimberly looked up and saw a headlamp on the road above us. It was Starchy, who had just arrived at the jeep road.

We followed Starchy and he took us straight to Bobcat Rock! Frustrating, but a relief at the same time. We descended Leonard's Butt-Slide, but couldn't find the book. John Kelly came along on his second loop, and he had trouble also. We descended further down, climbed back up (a short, but very steep climb) and John finally yelled that he'd found it! By the time I get my page and made my way up to the road, Starchy and Kimberly were at Bobcat Rock (John long gone), looking for the next path up to Hiram's Pool and Spa. Starchy and I walked right past Book #6, but fortunately, Kimberly spotted it and saved us some backtracking.

Starchy was doing such a good job navigating that I make a big mistake: I quit looking at my map and compass and contributing my input. It was a hassle unzipping my pack pouch, pulling out my 200x reading glasses, sitting down with the directions and map and trying to figure out what was going on when Starchy did it all in less than a minute. Still, an extra set of eyes and another brain (such as it is) might have been helpful on the next descent.

There were cliffs to work around, some climbing down, a loose rock that rolled murderously towards the head of the person in front of me, some tense moments and words, as we made our way down the ridge towards New River. We ended up far to the right of where we were supposed to be. Former finisher Andrew Thompson came along on his second loop, and immediately began climbing a steep hill. We followed, but at the top, he was long gone, and the highway we expected to find was nowhere in sight. Back down we went. By now, all I had left of my trekking poles were two stubs, the top section of each, so as I climbed these steep ascents, I was bent over even worse than the old man on the Aqualung album cover.

Part way up the next climb, we realize we had passed Book #7, so we descended yet again. We encountered Mig who told us it was only a few hundred feet back. We spread out a little until Kimberly found the book in a hollow tree trunk.

Walk into splintered sunlight,

inch your way through dead dreams

to another land

maybe you're tired and broken,

your tongue is twisted with words half-spoken

and thoughts unclear⁴

I was frustrated and getting down on myself. The name of a bluegrass band from many years before came to mind, Old and In The Way, and it really seemed to fit how I was feeling at that moment. I'm debated whether or not to tell the others to go on without me. I'm slow. I don't feel like I'm much help to the group, but I think that once daylight comes, I'll be able to find my own way. However, instead of voicing all of these thoughts, I pulled out my map and compass, took a bearing, and announced that I was going "this" way and started off into a thicket of rhodendrums. Kimberly was more than a little frustrated with me, but Starchy followed. My bearing and compass reading were right, but by not having an accurate idea what our starting point was, my navigation brought us out on the top part of Testicle Spectacle. At least now we know where we were. And daylight was breaking.

The section down to Raw Dog Falls went pretty well. I went my own way at Danger Dave's climbing wall, and didn't really expect to see the other two again. They were much faster climbers, and I was tempted to sneak off to a sunny place where I could take a nap. I found an Old Man Route around the wall, got Book #8 and climbed up to the road, where to my surprise, they sat waiting for me. It was daylight now; my spirits had improved and the loneliness and worthlessness I felt during the night were passing; and I was thankful they were there. I wouldn't be any faster on the climbs, but I also wouldn't have to battle my thoughts alone as the heat of the day, fatigue, and the effects of sleep deprivation worked their magic.

We climbed Pig Head Creek, reached the Prison Mine Trail, and got lapped by Jennilynn. The climb up Rat Jaw went better than I expected, and I used up my water just before reaching the top. We filled our bladders and bottles, and took time to eat. We had been out on the trail for over 23 hours and Starchy and Kimberly were running low on food. I pulled out my zip-lock bag of mac 'n cheese and gladly shared.

Gary and Jared were climbing Rat Jaw on their third loop as we descended. We also met Heather, now on her second loop.) By the time we reached the bottom, John Kelly was exiting the prison area. There was no way I could keep my feet dry in the tunnel, nor did I have the climbing skills to go up either of the towers. (Kudos to Jared, who climbed them on all five of his loops.)

Bad Thing took a while, but it was fairly straightforward. We didn't have too much trouble finding the book at the top and we were anxious to begin our descent down Zip Line. Again, stream after stream converged, leaving us guessing as to when we are actually supposed to cross the creek and when weren't. We spent a lot of time looking for a beech tree at one convergence, until I finally gave up and began moving further downstream. Suddenly, I heard my name being yelled from off to my right. It was Dale Holdaway (followed by JT and Jason) and he told me that the beech tree was only a little further down. Very soon we found a confluence that had the right angle layout I'd been expecting, went to the beech tree, got our pages, and rested before climbing Big Hell.

I'm not sure where we again encountered Jennilynn, but I believe it was during this climb. Maybe it was because it was the last climb, maybe because we were ready to be done, maybe because we'd been on our feet moving for thirty hours, or maybe for any number of other reasons, but this climb seemed to take forever. It deserves its name, We finally reached the top, celebrated getting our last pages, and took only a short breather before heading down Chimney Top Trail.

We were pretty quiet as we walked. I was thankful for the downhill, but once we encountered the Ridge Mountain ascent, I surrendered the point position to the others. Somewhere along here we made a pact to approach the Yellow Gate running and holding hands. I remember feeling thankful to be included, apparently still harboring some of those dark feelings from the night hours.

At the gate, I asked Laz if we made the cutoff. I got no response, just a look from under the brim of his hat. I told him that Barkley truly is the place where dreams go to die and he asked me if any dreams did die out there? I told him, "yes," but some came true also.

Running to the finish.  Joel Gat is off to the right, in the flip-flops. - photo by Dan Henry courtesy of the Chattanooga Times Free Press - http://www.timesfreepress.com/news/local/story/2016/apr/06/barkley-marathons-race-eats-its-young/359012/#photogallery_1549

Touching the Yellow Gate - photo by

Photo by Clark Annis

  Dave played the best version of "Taps" I heard all weekend. Many wanted to know exactly what happened to us Out There, but I was at a loss to know where to begin. The only word I had was "convergences." Too many convergences...

Asking Laz if we made the cutoff - photo by

Our adventure lasted 32 hours. We have been informed that we took more time to complete a single loop than anyone in the history of the event. My mind and heart are still trying to cope with the experiencing of such a wide array of emotions simultaneously: exhileration, euphoria, and complete humiliation. It's befuddling...

Afterwards:

The reception for the three of us at the Yellow Gate was so positive. Instead of laughing at us derivisely, people cheered and applauded our dogged determination. Several offered me a beer, but all I wanted was an ice cold Classic Coke, which Joel Gat was able to procur. Thanks Joel!!!

Later, after a shower, I did enjoy an IPA at Jim and Karen's fire, wrapped in one of their fleeces, enjoying the comraderie (Chris Gkikas was there too) until I started to nod off.

Jim Ball, Chris Gkikas and I, before the race - photo by Karen Tuell

After six hours of sleep, I woke up and just laid there, my mind wandering. I heard "Taps" sounding for three runners and regretted not having gotten out of my sleeping bag to be there to welcome them in. I spent the rest of the night and the next day hanging out around the the fire at HQ, enjoying fellowship with people I've come to enjoy so much, and watching runners come into camp and head back out, each with amazing stories of their own to tell.

Laz and me after the race.  I'm not sure who were talking with. - Photo by John Price

Jared was the only finisher, finishing in about 53 hours. There was a huge crowd at the finish line, and he sat calmly and answered questions for 30 minutes or longer.

I thank the Lord for the whole experience:

- for creating the beauty of this part of Tennessee

- for Laz, Raw Dog and all those that have had a part in creating and sustaining this race

- for all the other runners, their families, friends and crew, as well as friends of the race, that joined together to make this the great event it was

- and for the privilege of getting to do what I did this weekend. It wasn't all I had hoped for, but perhaps in some hard-to-explain way, it was so much more.

Laz and Dobies had some fun with math at our expense...

-officially, we traveled at an astounding pace of .625 miles per hour, 55 feet per minute (try that at home for fun)

- had we done the entire 100 miles at that pace, it would have taken us approximately163 hours

- Robert Youngren calculates that if we averaged 1.5 (unofficial) miles per hour, we may have wandered as far as 48 miles during our loop, . This caused Laz to proclaim that even though the Barkley course is not a perfect circle, neither did it resemble a small intestine.

PS...Erik, on his second loop, found my handheld while descending Bald Knob! How cool is that?

Thanks to Henry Spier for his 20 Self-Evident Truths. I didn't fully appreciate #20 until today: that "the Barkley is the ultimate revealer of truth. Most will find out that they are not as tough as they hoped they would be...but all will be grateful and better for the experience." I want to believe I am a better person for this experience; help thou my unbelief.  :)

Footnotes:

0 - "Dreams" by the Allman Brothers Band  
      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8OR-nIqEzw

1 - Henry Spier's "Barkley Self-Evident Truths" #5

2 - ibid, #1

3 - I Chronicles 28:20, The Living Bible

4 - "Box of Rain" by Phil Lesh and Robert Hunter
      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bxh5olGxCYI

Other stuff:

a)

Barkley Self-Evident Truths - Henry Speir

#0 - You can't learn if you listen with your mouth. (Mike Dobies)

#1 - You toe the line at the yellow gate with the training you have, not the training you wish you had.

#2 - Weather happens - the successful Barker wastes little time and energy on this and instead focuses on aspects within his control.

#3 - There are two ways of quitting at the Barkley: Direct and Indirect - Direct is the aspiring Barker declaring, regardless of reason, that they are unwilling to continue; Indirect is the lack of will to move at an appropriate pace so as to not timeout.

#4 - Manage your calorie intake; the successful Barker will not allow himself to even go into "mico-famine" - if you are near the end of a loop and need to eat, do so, don't wait to get in camp.  attrib: Andrew Thompson

#5 - One cannot make it far at the Barkley without above average hubris.  However, hubris is also one of the leading causes of a Barkley attempt being cut short.  The successful Barker is aware of, and will manage this.

#6 - There is no "wishing" at Barkley - there is "vision" and the steadfast will to then realize that vision.

Thompson corollary: Once the switch is flipped, it can't be unflipped.

#7 - Go at a pace comfortable for *you*.  If you plan on going with someone else, you are going at their pace, at some point this will be too fast.  attrib: David Horton

Corollary: The virgin would be wise to seek a vet that is otherwise likely to move at a slower natural pace than them

(see self-evident truths #8, #9 and #5).

#8 - The most important decision the Barkley virgin can make is which veteran they will try to follow.  Choose wisely.   See: Barkley self-evident truth #7.

#9 - The Barkley virgin is a parasite and any self-respecting veteran will attempt to "scrape"(drop) them at some point.  See: Barkley self-evident truth #8.

#10 - You will vastly increase your chances at success if you know where you are and are able to pick out where you are on the map at all times; keep track as you progress and make a mental note as you get to each book or pass significant terrain features.  At some point, you are likely to find yourself alone - see: Barkley self-evident truth #9

#11 - While "Out There", the ephemeral "Barkley Friendship" can be very fleeting, but also very useful.  The successful Barker will immediately recognize when it is no longer useful and move on with haste.  (be mindful, however, of Barkley self-evident truth #5)

Corollary: The successful Barker will instantly spot the mopey, blue, dead-weight Barker and put distance between them

before he is infected with negative, self-justifying talk about quitting.

#12 - All other things being equal, during the nighttime, the successful Barker will leverage pairing or teamwork possibilities with those around him.  Being mindful, of course, of Barkley self-evident truth #11.

Corollary: The Barkley virgin is much less likely to be scraped at night.  See: Barkley self-evident truth #9

#13 - While "Out There", the course is in command; between loops, YOU are in command.  The successful Barker will visualize, plan and parsimoniously manage every minute between loops.  What you do or fail to do here could be the beginning of the end of your Barkly outing.

#14 - If you haven't spent much time with a USGS 7.5 min topo quad and can't tell the difference between a draw and a spur, go back, re-read and double down on Barkley self-evident truth #8

#15 - Ultrarunners: Realize that all that trail running training and experience you have is only tangentially useful at being successful at the Barkley.  Furthermore, some of the experience and habits you've gained in this pursuit can even be somewhat counterproductive at the Barkley.  That is not to say that it's not useful at all; it's just not as useful in preparing you for the Barkley as you likely assume it to be.  See: Barkley self-evident truth #1

Corollary 1: "Mudder/Death/ToughGuy" type running events and experience are even more useless.

Corollary 2: The best comprehensive Barkley training is during the event itself; if you are in, keep moving forward --

your next chance is at minimum a year, but more likely more than a year away!

#16 - Knowledge and understanding of the actual Barkley course and how to navigate around it is fundamental to success and goes without saying; however, equally as important and useful, but often overlooked, is the "big picture" of the park, its features and how they are all interconnected and how the Barkley course fits and flows within/around the park.  (attrib: Jonathan Basham; also: laz, Furtaw, others)

#17 - Implicit in your desire to enter the Barkley and being granted entry into the event is your steadfast commitment to self-extract and make your way back to camp on your own power, accept under the most extreme of circumstances.  If you had the energy and fortitude to get out there, then you should be able to get back on your own...without bothering the locals, and bringing shame and disgrace to yourself and the Barkley.  (partial attrib: "Pit Viper" circa 2007; others before and since)   See: Barkley self-evident truth #16 and #10

every barker has self-extracted.
no matter how long it took.
altho some have hitch hiked back from some damned remote locations!

there is a certain pride that no one has had to be found and retrieved over all these years.
the weight of all the barkers who have precdeeded you
and all the barkers who hope to follow
is on your shoulders.

you got yourself out there.
you must get yourself back.

laz

#18 - Navigating around the Barkley course is no doubt a challenge.  However, the primary driver for causing the once aspiring Barker to quit is the cumulative effect of the brutal climbs and descents.  See: Barkley self-evident truth #3

#19 - The Barkley is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. (inspiration attrib: Winston Churchill)

#20 - The Barkley is the ultimate revealer of truth.  Most will find out that they are not as tough as they hoped they would be (or as most perceive them to be); a select few will become legends.  All will be grateful and better for the experience.

b) from Laz on why a GPS isn't necessary during the Barkley

as for tracking your heart rate,
i will save you the trouble.
you are going to redline....

a lot.

if the term "redline" is not part of your standard english vocabulary,
picture the gauges on the dash of your automibile.
the meaning of "redlining" should be obvious.

let me explain:
when the uphill slope gets over 30%
most people have to redline their heart rate just to move.
by the time it hits 40%
everyone has to redline to move at all.

30 and 40% grades are all over the barkley course.

if your heart cant take a licking
and keep on ticking
you ought to give over your slot to a weight lister.
because you will die out there.