Race Report: Eastern States 100

Where to begin? The buildup to this race was perhaps longer than any other I've done. After struggling with some minor (but annoying) injuries for several years, crazy weight swings, and major life changes - I was seriously wondering if my days of running ultramarathons were over. Could I actually get back into good enough shape to attempt another crazy one? Would my body hold up if I did? I signed up for Eastern States back in February during a time when my training was going particularly well (I was training for Georgia Death Race at the time). I saw a post on Facebook that there were still openings for Eastern States, so I figured "why not?" I also saw that they were trying something new this year - a "solo" division where you're not allowed to have a crew or pacer. So of course I had to sign up for the more extreme option of an already extreme race. LOL

So, I finished Georgia Death Race (barely). That seemed to validate that my fitness was where it needed to be, and that my body could handle the stress of a long event. The challenge there was hydration and nutrition, as I was vomiting the entire second half of the race. Still, it seemed I was on the right track. Following GDR, I continued my buildup for Eastern States, which has a similar amount of climbing per mile - just a lot more miles (103 versus 74). I purposely trained in the heat and humidity of the spring & summer, so that I would be as acclimated as possible for an August race. As race day approached, I felt like the training was sufficient - including endless hours on the stair machine since Raleigh isn't known for being very mountainous.

One minor hiccup leading into the race - I forgot to put my trekking poles in the truck before I left the house, and only remembered about 5 hours into the drive. A shame, since I had bought fancy new folding carbon fiber poles specifically for ES100. I briefly considered doing the race without poles, but decided to check if there was a sporting goods store nearby. No REI to be found, but there was a Dick's Sporting Goods just ahead on the highway. So, I stopped in there and bought a set of heavier aluminum telescoping poles. Definitely not as nice as the ones I had intended to use, but certainly good enough.

Anyway, check-in Friday night was uneventful, as was Saturday morning. Except, of course, that I had to wake up at 2:40 am to get ready and drive to the start/finish line at Little Pine State Park. The race started at 5am, which meant that we needed headlamps at the start. (Note to the organizers - start at 6:30 instead so we all get more sleep, and no one has to start with a headlamp. Just a thought...) There *was* someone at the start making pancakes, so I nibbled on several of those while waiting for the race to start.

The wait was soon over and the race began. We started off on the road in the park, and wound through one of the camping areas.  I'd say it was about 1.25 miles until we hit the single track - enough time to spread the pack out a little bit, but there was definitely still a bottleneck when we got to the trail. We hit the first big climb about 3 miles in, where things bottlenecked again. Normally, trail/race etiquette would have you step off to the side on a big climb like that if people are starting to bunch up behind you. Well, there were a couple runners that didn't get that memo, so we were climbing pretty slowly for a while. I wasn't too concerned, since it was forcing me to take a more conservative pace and not start out too fast. Others were definitely more frustrated.

The rest of the way to AS1 was uneventful. I arrived around 1:28, and was out around 1:30. So, a very efficient stop. AS1 only had water (no food), so I was still eating the food I started with - a concoction of instant mashed potatoes, corn starch, extra salt and sodium, and some caffeine powder added for good measure...  I finished that by the time I got to AS2, around 2:49. That was a 3-minute stop. At this point, I'm 11 miles in and feeling pretty good. I'm using the poles all the time - not just for climbing. I do remember thinking I probably should have trained with them more, since I'll be using muscles that I have not used to that extent. Oh well - too late for that now.

AS3 (17 miles) was the first aid station where I would have a drop bag, so I planned on making that a slightly longer stop. I downed a 5-hour Energy, switched to a different hat, and ditched my empty mashed potato squeeze tubes. Refilled water & tailwind (sport drink), and helped myself to the buffet. The highlights here were perogies and grilled cheese sandwiches. I grabbed some and ate them while I walked out of the aid station. Total time - 6 minutes. I'm 4:40 into the race now.

AS3->AS4 was one of my favorite parts of the course. There were two very long downhill sections. The first was not very technical, and quite runnable. I made up a lot of time here, and passed a bunch of runners. The second was more technical, but not super steep. Again, quite runnable if you're comfortable with that - which I am. That one was almost like downhill skiing in parts, and I was aggressively using my poles as I descended. I arrived at AS4 (25 miles) around 6:36, still high on adrenaline from the downhills. 5 minutes later, I was running again.

I don't recall anything specific from AS4->AS5. I arrived at AS5 around 8:27 and left at 8:32. So, I'm still being very efficient with my stops at this point. The goal was to keep most aid stations at 5 minutes or less. There were 5 aid stations where I had drop bags, and the goal there was 10 minutes or less, with the exception of the mile 61 aid station, where I planned an extended stop. But more on that later. So far, I am exactly on schedule, 3 hours ahead of the cutoffs, and almost 1/3 of the way to the finish (31 miles).

By now, things are starting to "get real". My shoulders are aching from using the poles. (My "downhill skiing" escapades didn't do them any favors, for sure.) My brain is starting to get a little foggy. I haven't reached my next drop bag yet, so haven't had a chance to get another 5-hour Energy boost. Around mile 35, I was on a gravel road, climbing, and just in a "low energy" part of the race. So, I have my head down, just focusing on getting up the hill. After a bit, I hear someone yell from behind: "Hey! When's the last time you saw a flag?" Meaning, of course, the ribbons that mark the course. I thought for a second, and I couldn't remember the last time I saw one. Fortunately, I had the course preloaded in my watch, so it was easy to check if we were off-course or not. We were. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. Fortunately, it was "only" 1/4 mile. But we effectively added a half mile to an already long course. Three people  had followed me on the detour. In my defense, the turn was *not* marked well and was much easier to spot from the direction we were now coming.

Side note here... Garmin watches allow you to "follow a course", and will actually alert you if you go off-course. But the alert is so anemic it is USELESS. (As are the "turn alerts".) I wrote a custom "data field" that displays its own alerts for turns and off-course warnings, and it works great. Except, I recently got a new watch and it's full of bugs - including one that doesn't allow my data field to get the navigation information. So, I couldn't use my field, and had to rely on Garmin's pathetic little 'beep' to let me know if I strayed off-course. And, by the way, it only beeps once. So if you don't notice the whisper-quiet beep the first time, you'll never get notified after that. This is all to say that, for a company whose "bread and butter" is navigation, the user experience here is *SHIT*.

Well, after realizing the navigation error, that definitely "woke me up" and got the adrenaline going again. So, silver lining there... I continued on to AS6 (38 miles) and arrived 10:23. I was gone at 10:28. Now, I'm about 20 minutes behind schedule - most of which was due to the detour. Still 3 hours ahead of the cutoffs, though.

Not much to say about AS6->AS7. At this point, I'm just dialed in. I took some Tylenol at one point because my shoulder hurt so much. Also, the hand straps on the poles are now starting to rub the back of my hands raw. (I did see others wearing gloves, which I guess is something I need to consider for the future.) Aside from the shoulders, everything is holding up pretty well, except for the KT tape I put around my knees. Despite buying the "extreme" KT tape, and doing all kinds of prep to make sure it adhered as well as possible, it was already peeling away. To be fair, I was sweating *buckets* by now. The temperature wasn't bad (low-mid 80s). But the humidity had to be 100%. As long as I was in a runnable section, and had air moving over me, it wasn't bad at all. When I'd start a steep (slow) climb, I would be dripping sweat everywhere. So I certainly gave the tape an "extreme" test, but it failed and I ended up taking it off around mile 40, since it was just flapping around. I guess one highlight of this section was the "Fuzzy Friends Club" - definitely *not* a hallucination - that was maybe a 1/2 mile before the aid station.

AS7 was the second "drop bag" aid station. Just under 43 miles. I arrived 11:34 and had another 5-hour Energy. I seem to remember digging something else out of my bag, but I can't recall what it was. I left at 11:42, so was under my 10-minute goal for the "bagged" aid station. I'm 23 minutes behind my predicted schedule, and about 3.5 hours ahead of the cutoff.  The next section was a long one, so I was starting out with a lot of fluids, and grabbed a bunch of food from the aid station (perogies and grilled cheese again, I think.)

It's almost all uphill to AS8, so it's slow going and I'm sweating a lot. Also, as I left AS7 I started hearing thunder. Not too long after that, it started raining. The thunder was very frequent, but the tree canopy was so thick I couldn't see lightning if it was nearby. The thick canopy also kept the rain from being too annoying. Still, I couldn't help but think it was unwise to be going *up* the mountain while hearing thunder. Eventually, I got high enough that I could see the sky light up occasionally from the lightning, which allowed me to time the gap between the lightning and thunder. The first count was around 6 seconds, so that suggested the storm wasn't too close and I wasn't in imminent danger. The lightning/thunder gap increased over time, which meant I was moving away from the storm (or, at least, the lightning anyway). When the gap got to 10 seconds, I stopped paying attention.

The rain didn't slow the ascent much - since that's slow anyway. But any descent had to be done with care now. I couldn't just "bomb" down the hills and make up time. Also, the temperature dropped with the storm, so I wasn't drinking nearly as much as I thought I'd need to - which meant I carried a lot of extra weight up the mountain. Still, there was always the chance the storm could have passed quickly and the temperature rise again. So better to be safe than sorry, but the extra weight in my pack was *killing* my shoulders. I was watching time on my watch now so that I'd know when I could take another dose of Tylenol.

I got to AS8 (50.5 miles) at 14:30. As I approached the aid station, the rain seemed to be letting up. That was a relief. After nearly 3 hours, I had had my fill. I was starting to get a little chilled at this point. The sun was going down (so I got my headlamp back out) and I was in short sleeves and soaked. I of course hadn't thought to put a rain jacket in my pack, but I did have an "emergency poncho". I dug that out and put it on as I sat down to take a rest. Good thing, because the rain picked back up with a vengeance. I had some soup to warm up. My GPS data shows I sat there for 16 minutes. I don't recall it being that long, but the data doesn't lie. I took a few perogies and some Stove Top Stuffing to go, and starting walking. Now, I'm about 50 minutes behind where I thought I'd be, but still 3:15 ahead of the cutoff. 

There weren't any "crazy" climbs or descents going from AS8->AS9 (56 miles). I arrived at 16:30 and left 16:37. Not too bad, all things considered. I'm over an hour behind where I thought I'd be - but the rain was definitely slowing things down. I'm still 3:08 ahead of the cutoff. My legs are still fine, though I started getting some pain on the outside of the ball of my right foot. Most likely, I had a bruise from stepping on a sharp rock or something. My shoulders had reached a "plateau" of discomfort that was mostly bearable. The rain continued, which was frustrating.

AS9->AS10 is where things started to "go south". I'm pretty sure this was the section where I might have thrown up first.  (Hard to remember exactly when my stomach turned on me...) Unlike GDR, I felt immediately better after throwing up. (At GDR, I felt nauseated the entire second half of the race.) So I was hoping this was "one and done". It wasn't. I threw up several more times along the way. It seemed to get triggered mostly if I pushed too hard on an uphill, or if I drank too much. So, I slowed down on the uphills and took "baby sips" of water (like half an ounce at most). That helped, but I still couldn't eat anything. To make things worse, my feet were in pretty bad shape from being soaked for *hours* now. The rain did eventually stop. I think it was a total of maybe 6 hours. Fortunately, AS10 had another drop bag, which was where I planned my "extended stop" to change shoes, socks, and anything else I needed to. To get to AS10, we actually had to wade through a chest-deep river.  There was a rope strung across, and we had safety lines to hold onto. It was a neat experience - I've never had to do a water crossing that deep in a race before. AS10 was there on the other side of the river, and I made my way to the medical tent to see if someone could look at my feet. Fortunately, they weren't busy, so I had help immediately.

I wish I had thought to take a picture. I felt like I had blisters forming on the balls of each foot, just to the inside of the big toe. Once my socks were off, it was difficult to tell because my feet were so macerated. Think about how your fingers and toes are a little "pruney" after soaking in the tub, and multiply that by 100...  So it was impossible to tell if there was a blister there or not. And there really wasn't anything they could do. So I dried off my feet and let them "air out" a few minutes before I put on dry socks and shoes. I also changed my shirt and hat. I probably should have changed shorts, but didn't want to take the extra time to find someplace private to change.  I refilled water and probably grabbed some food (wishful thinking), and headed back out. 62 miles down. I left 20:08, nearly 40 minutes after I arrived. I'm now 2:15 behind my prediction (which I've now given up on). 1:52 ahead of the cutoff.

AS10->AS11 had another big climb. I had to go slow or else risk having to stop to throw up - which I did have to do anyway. At this point, I am *very* frustrated. I feel like my legs are fine to run and climb, but I can't push myself without getting sick. My shoulder is hurting again. And now that "bruise" on my right foot is *killing* me. Like, "sharp pain running up my leg" killing me. Not on every step. But enough to make me really question what the hell I'm doing. There was absolutely a point where I told myself this was my last race. I could deal with everything else, but the nausea was completely disheartening. It took forever to get to AS11. The multiple stops to hurl on the side of the trail really slowed me down. I'm also having a hard time staying awake. As I started getting close, I looked at my watch. At the time, I thought the cutoff was 24:30. I wasn't going to make it... It was close, for sure, but I figured I was going to come in around 24:40 - maybe 24:35 if I really pushed. That settled it. My day was almost over. I wasn't going to have to run anymore. The pain could stop. There were several people ahead of, and behind, me. None of them seemed to have a sense of urgency to get to the aid station. I figured they had all done the math as well and had realized it was out of reach.

I got to AS11 and, like every other aid station, the volunteers were awesome. Multiple people asked me what I needed. I said I just needed to sit a few minutes. As I sat down, I said to one of the volunteers "I guess I missed the cutoff, huh?"  They looked at me, slightly puzzled, and replied "oh no - you're almost an hour ahead of the cutoff." Well crap. Now I have to make a decision to continue or not. I thought the decision had been made for me. My stomach had actually settled down in the last 30-40 minutes, so I felt like I could eat something again - which I did. (A banana, I think.) Meanwhile, another volunteer is talking to me and says something along the lines of "it's only 30 miles to the finish" and "you only have 10 more hours to go". I know he meant well, but I wanted to slap him. LOL. You can't say "only" and "30 miles", or "only" and "10 hours"... At 24:45, I got out of the chair and started moving again. At least now I didn't feel like I was going to throw up. My foot still hurt like hell, though. I'm just 45 minutes ahead of the cutoff now.

I made good time to AS12. As I'm running, it started to occur to me that maybe my foot is more than "bruised". I've heard about runners getting "stress fractures" - is that what this is? It's certainly painful. But, so is a bruise if you keep pounding on it for hours... It's not really slowing me down - just very, very annoying. So I figure I'll keep moving forward until I can't. I arrived at AS12 at 27:16 and left 27:20. I had a drop bag there, but didn't get anything out of it. (I should have grabbed a 5-hour Energy, but forgot...) The sun has been up for a couple hours now, which helped a lot. I'm nearly 80 miles in, and 55 minutes ahead of the cutoff. 

AS12->AS13 had a couple climbs, and the nausea eventually returned. Only when I pushed hard, though. And It only seemed to be on climbs. When a section was runnable, I never felt nauseated. It was weird. At this point, I can start to feel like I'm going to make it, though there is still a long way to go. I also felt an overpowering sense of deja-vu. The trail looked *so* familiar and I was 100% sure I had run it before. I even "recognized" different landmarks. I don't know if "deja vu" is even the right term, the sense of familiarity was so strong. I still can't shake that feeling a week later, but I have no record (that I can find) of ever running in that area before. So perhaps my sleep-deprived brain was playing tricks on me. But I would have bet money I had been there before. I just don't know when.

AS13->AS14 had a couple more climbs. Now, I'm just sipping water and occasionally hurling on the side of the trail. (Mostly dry heaving, of course.) I think it was in this section that I had my only fall during the race. It wasn't even on the trail. The course took us through what appeared to be someone's back yard. There was a decorative bridge we had to go over. Then, there was what appeared to be a drainage ditch with a much smaller bridge over it. The smaller bridge had a piece of plywood for the surface. I'm running at this point, and as soon as my foot hit that plywood, my foot slipped out in front of me and I went horizontal in the air - landing flat on my back. This had to have look cartoonish - it certainly felt it. Like "slipping on a banana peel" cartoonish. I hit the ground hard enough that the "fall detected" alert appeared on my watch, counting down to where it would call 911 (I think). I fumbled and managed to cancel the alert before the call was made. Aside from a scratch on my arm, there was no damage. It was just really weird. I'm not even sure how the physics worked out to make me slip like that.

I made it to AS14 at 31:57, and left 32:01. All I did was have them dump ice into my Camelbak, then moved on. I'm about 92 miles in, and a scant 30 minutes ahead of the cutoff. I had a drop bag at AS14 also, but just ignored it. At this point, there was nothing in there that would help me.

AS14->AS15 is mostly downhill, so I made fairly good time there. I arrived 33:57 and decided to sit down for a few minutes. I sipped a little Mountain Dew for some caffeine. I can't remember if it was AS14 or AS15, but I saw (and talked to) the race director at one of them, though I didn't realize it until after I left. My brain was definitely useless at that point. All my physical and mental energy was focused on getting to the finish now. I left at 34:11, 34 minutes ahead of the cutoff.

The final segment has one climb, then a *lot* of technical downhill to the finish. Several runners passed me while I was sitting down at AS15, and I passed them all on the downhills. And then caught up to other runners, and passed them. And more runners. The final descent was so steep I couldn't help but think that, if anyone had anything left in their quads, this was certainly shredding them now (it was certainly shredding mine). I continued attacking the downhills, aggressively using my poles. I came out of the woods about 100 yards from the finish and passed 2 more people. I started running for the finish line, carrying my poles. I saw another runner about 50 yards ahead of me and decided to start using the poles and try to catch him too. Alas, I was not able to close that gap, as he was still moving pretty well. But I finished strong and even got a halfway decent picture as I finished. Final time: 35:18:08. 115th place out of 227 runners. Only 131 runners finished, so I was toward the end of the people that actually made it to the end. 96 people came up short of the finish line that day. A pretty high DNF rate. I'm thinking the rain had a lot to do with it, though the course is quite demanding even in good weather.

Some stats...

Total steps:        198,831  (114,405 Saturday, 84,426 Sunday)
Total calories:    14,131
Average pace:    21:02 min/mile
Moving pace:    16:15 min/mile
Moving time:    27:18:39 (note: I'm not sure why this isn't run time + walk time...)
Running time:    6:26:40
Walking time:    24:17:38
Idle time:        4:36:47

So what did I learn from all of this?

First, I need to get my nutrition figured out. I suspect I'm trying to eat too much, and that's why my stomach is rebelling. My thinking up to this point has been that these endurance races are part "competitive eating" contests. I'm burning 700-800 calories per hour. I'm trying to replace as much of that as possible. But what GDR and ES100 have taught me is that I'm capable of going quite a long time on *zero* calories. So perhaps I don't need to try to eat 700 calories per hour. Perhaps 300 calories per hour is enough.

Second, I need hand protection when using poles for an extended period of time. Now, if I had my "fancy poles", the straps had a much smoother material that probably wouldn't have rubbed me as raw as the nylon webbing of the replacement poles. Still, some lightweight fingerless gloves would have been useful. I'll probably have (minor) scars on my hands from this - not that I really care. But that's how bad it was.  I also need to train more with my poles, so my shoulder muscles are properly conditioned for the effort.

Third, while I'm capable of completing an event like this without a crew, it would have been nice to have one. If nothing else, someone to remind me to drink my 5-hour Energy. Or have a fresh shirt ready to change into. I fortunately didn't run into any major issues (other than the stomach problems). But if I had, a crew could have made the difference between finishing and not finishing, given how close I ended up being to the cutoffs towards the end.

Fourth, I regret not taking more pictures during the race. But I'm also glad I didn't spend any time on it. I thought beforehand that I might try to to video updates every hour or so. I would love to have a record of my thoughts, but it would have slowed me down. I'm glad I focused on the race and didn't lose any time trying to document it.

HUGE thanks to the organizers and volunteers of ES100. This is, without question, a world-class event. One of the best. I'm not sure when/if I'll be back, but that's only because there are a lot of other races I want to experience. Regardless, my Eastern States finisher buckle is now a prized possession for sure!

So what's next? I don't have anything on the calendar (yet). But I have some ideas about trying a few FKT (fastest known time) attempts.  Stay tuned!

Race Report: Georgia Death Race 2023

It's been a while since my last race report.  Lots has happened.  Fitness lost, fitness gained.  Injuries.  Work/life stress.  Global pandemics.  The usual...

Long story short, I regained all the weight I lost in 2020, and then dropped it all again last year (and into this year).  Going into GDR '23, I was probably close to my all-time best fitness as well as my lowest weight since high school.  Countless hours spent on the stair machine had given me super-strong quads ready to tackle the Georgia mountains.  I did a lot of running on a recent trip to Mexico, which gave me confidence to cruise for 10-20 miles in the heat.  I felt ready.  The only "wild cards" (I thought) were whether my left knee and right Achilles could take the strain of the "74-ish" miles that make up the GDR course.

I drove down the day before the race with my crew (Jill and Liz).  We arrived at Amicalola Falls just in time for packet pickup and the pre-race briefing.  There weren't any real surprises there, since the race directors were pretty good about making information available in the weeks leading up to the race.  One welcome change for this year's event was that trekking poles would be allowed, but only after reaching the first aid station.  Having done the race a couple times before, I fully supported not having them at the start -- it would be a total clusterf#ck having 300+ people with poles scrambling up the narrow single-track trail that comprises the first huge climb.

Anyway, after the briefing, we grabbed dinner, went back to the room, organized stuff for the morning, and tried to get some sleep.  The race starts at 5am and is a point-to-point race.  Amicalola Falls is the *finish*, so there are shuttles to take the runners to the start in the morning.  The shuttles leave at 2:45am, which means I had to wake up around 1:30am to have enough time to get ready and get down to where the shuttles would be.  Nothing like starting a 20-25hr race on 3.5 hours of sleep!

Morning came quickly.  I got ready, and got on the 3rd of 4 school busses that were the shuttles.  Not a comfortable ride by any means, but it was getting us where we needed to go - until it wasn't.  Yep - our bus broke down about 10 miles from the start line.  Fortunately, the bus behind us also stopped.  Eventually, we determined there was enough room to cram everyone on the 4th bus for the remainder of the trip.  We got there about 4:30am - just enough time to use the bathroom and eat some more of my junk food breakfast:  Pop Tarts, Swiss Rolls, Hostess Apple Pies, 5-Hour Energy -- truly a breakfast of champions.

About 5 minutes before the start, the skies opened up and it started *pouring* rain.  This was expected, but still not welcome.  At least it was around 60 degrees, so we didn't have to worry about hypothermia or anything.  Most everyone seemed appropriately dressed for the weather.

Finally - the race starts! In prior years, the course started almost immediately on the single-track hiking trail.  This year, we had about 2 miles of (downhill) road before hitting the trail.  This made for a very fast start (my first mile was a little over 8 minutes) and allowed the field to spread out a bit before getting bottlenecked on the single track.

We charged up the climb to Coosa Bald.  My heart rate was a little higher than I wanted (150-155 bpm) but I felt okay.  I ended up disabling the "high heart rate" alert on my watch, since it uses battery every time it goes off by lighting up the backlight, vibrating, and beeping.  I was pretty sure it would last anyway, but didn't want to take the chance of it dying before the end.  My plan was to re-enable the alert later once things settled down.

The rain made for a little slippage as we climbed, but it wasn't too bad.  The problem was the descents - the first of which was down into the first aid station:  White Oak.  At this point, there were probably 40ish people in front of me and the trail was already trashed.  You could see where people were sliding all over the place and it made the descent very challenging.  Downhill technical running is where I usually make up time, and now that was taken away.  Fortunately, my fitness gains translated into faster ascents, so it kinda canceled out.  Still, it made me very wary of my knees, ankles, and Achilles.  One misstep could put me out of the race.

We half-ran, half slid into White Oak around 1:51 from the start.  Based on my previous times at GDR, I had guessed it would take around 2:15.  So I'm already 24 minutes ahead of where I thought I would be.  I also had allowed for a 5-minute stop to grab food and water.  I still had plenty of water & gatorade to get me to the next aid station, so I slowed down enough to grab a banana, and kept going.  Let's call it a 30-second stop, though it was probably less than that.  So, leaving White Oak I was around 28 minutes ahead of schedule.

The course between AS1 and AS2 (Mulky Gap) was tough, but only because of the rain.  The trail was a complete mess.  This was more of a mud run than an ultramarathon.  Fortunately, I could use the one trekking pole I carried from the start now.  This allowed me a little more traction on the climbs, and a little more stability on the descents.  Why one pole instead of two?  Well, I found that when I use trekking poles, I tend to not eat and drink as often - which is critical in an ultramarathon.  So I thought using one pole would give me most of the benefit, but still leave a hand free for eating and drinking.  Seemed like a good compromise, and I think it worked well.

It wasn't long into this section that I slipped and twisted my knee.  The left one, of course.  The problematic one.  The one I was worried wouldn't make it to the end.  "Great", I thought.  This is what takes me out.  It isn't fair.  I popped some pain meds and hoped I would be able to work through it.

Not long after that, I slipped again and fell on my right side, catching myself on my right forearm.  My right shoulder instantly hurt.  Things are not looking good now.  Still, I went on.  The pack has spread out a bit and I'm not feeling as claustrophobic as I was going into the first aid station.  Still, there are runners within sight ahead and behind me at this point.  

I get to Mulky Gap around 3:21.  I had predicted 3:35, with another 5 minute stop.  I quickly refilled water, grabbed some bacon and quesadillas, and was moving again at 3:24.  A quick, 3-minute stop.  Very nice.  So I'm still 16 minutes ahead of schedule.

Having efficient aid station stops was a point of emphasis for this year.  I burned a lot of time at aid stations in my previous 2 appearances.  In 2021, that lost time caused me to miss the final cutoff (at Nimblewell) and DNF.  I figured I could cut an hour off my 2018 finishing time just by making my aid station stops shorter.

By this point, the rain had stopped and the trail was in slightly better condition.  You still had to be careful, but it was much more runnable.  I made good time getting to the third aid station (Skeenah Gap) which was the first place I would see my crew.  As I got closer to Skeenah, I realized I was way ahead of schedule.  Would I arrive before they got there?  It wouldn't be a disaster if I did, but it would be nice to drop some of my cold/rainy-weather clothes and swap them for lighter/cooler stuff as the temperature was starting to rise.

I got to Skeenah Gap (20.3 miles) around 5:28.  I had predicted 5:55.  I look around, and there is no sign of Jill or Liz.  So I start refilling my hydration pack and bottles, and grab some food.  As I'm getting ready to leave, I see Liz coming down the hill with the wagon, followed by Jill.  I get Liz's attention and start taking off my rain jacket, short-sleeved shirt, and long-sleeved shirt that I started the race with.  I get a dry sleeveless jersey from Liz, as well as a dry running hat.  I also grabbed a bluetooth earbud so I could get some tunes going.  Liz swapped-out my hydration bladder and bottles.  Even with the slight delay, the stop was only 10 minutes - which is what I had planned for the crew-accessible aid stations.  So I'm still 27 minutes ahead of schedule when I leave, and 87 minutes ahead of the cutoff.

Going into Skeenah, there is a mile+ out-and-back that is mostly downhill.  So, leaving Skeenah, you have to climb that to get back to the "main" part of the course.  After that, there is a little more climbing, then it's mostly downhill into AS4 - Point Bravo.  I don't recall much from this section, other than I was still feeling good.  My knee was holding up okay.  My shoulder wasn't really bothering me.  I was still eating and drinking well.  I felt strong on the uphills and the trail had dried enough that the downhills were safely runnable.  I made good time and got there around 7:08, grabbed a fistful of bacon and a couple quesadillas, and kept going.  When Liz swapped my bladder & bottles, I had about twice as much fluids as I needed - so I had plenty to get me to the next aid station already.  I spent maybe 1 minute at Point Bravo.  Leaving at 7:09, I was 46 minutes ahead of schedule and almost 2 hours (1:54) ahead of the cutoff.

Getting to AS5 (Sapling Gap - 30.9 miles), there is an initial climb, followed by a lot of runnable trail.  You get to cross the very scenic "Swinging Bridge". Then it's just over a mile to the aid station.  Sapling Gap is another crew-accessible aid station, and I was expecting to see Jill and Liz there.  And they were.  By now, the temperature was getting quite warm, so we moved a chair into the shade and got to work.  My shoes and socks were still soaked from the rain and mud, so we changed those out.  I changed shirts again.  We soaked my hat in cold water.  I chugged an ice-cold Miller Lite.  I don't recall what food they had at the aid station, but I don't recall taking anything with me.  I'm pretty sure I just stuck with my sugary snacks.  I arrived around 8:28 and left around 8:55.  So a bit of a longer stop here, but changing the shoes was definitely a good move and I had plenty of buffer.  I was still 35 minutes ahead of schedule, and 1:55 ahead of the cutoff.

So...  now I'm nine hours into this thing.  Still feeling okay.  Obviously "feeling" the effort.  But I'm starting to think about my potential finishing time.  After all, the hardest climbs on the course were behind me.  There was an outside chance I could finish around (or under) 20 hours!!  That would be insane, considering my 2018 finish was around 22 1/2 hours.  Even more insane considering the conditions at the start of the race!

I cruised to AS6 - Long Creek.  36.8 miles.  Halfway done.  Arrived 10:44.  Left 10:46.  Don't remember much about that section.  Looking at the elevation profile, there was a little climbing at the start, then some rolling hills.  Very runnable.  I'm now 46 minutes ahead of schedule, and 2:06 ahead of the cutoff.  The next time I see my crew is AS8, so I have one more aid station (Winding Stair) before then.

Long Creek to Winding Stair starts off very runnable and ends with a climb to the aid station.  Nothing crazy, but you feel it after 40+ miles.  It was in this section that things started to go awry...

About 30 minutes after Long Creek, my stomach started feeling a little "off".  A little strange, but it has happened before.  It's never been a hindrance in a race.  Over the next 10-15 minutes, though, I felt more and more nauseated.  Then, around 11.5 hours into the race - I found myself bent over at the side of the road, heaving.  Two minutes later, I felt better and was back moving again.  30 minutes later - I was dry heaving.  And again, 15 minutes after that.

I texted my crew and let them know the situation, and that I was planning on sitting down for a bit at AS7 to try to settle my stomach.  I got into Winding Stair at 12:25.  At this point, I was still 35 minutes ahead of schedule and 2:20 ahead of the cutoff.  I sat down, got some ginger ale, and asked for a plain tortilla to nibble on.  My stomach is definitely not happy, but things are staying down - for now.  Still, I'm not making much progress on the tortilla.  Precious minutes go by.  At 13:13 (nice omen there), I decide that sitting isn't doing much good, so I may as well start walking at least.  Now, I'm 8 minutes behind schedule but still 1:32 ahead of the cutoff.

I ate a bunch of Tums, and that seemed to help for a little bit.  I may have even run a couple miles.  But, about an hour later, I was retching on the side of the road again.  The section from Winding Stair to Jake Bull (AS8) should be the fastest and easiest on the whole course, and I'm walking it - with periodic pauses to vomit.  All that buffer I had built up is slipping away.  Dreams of a PR are gone.  Now, even
finishing the race is a gigantic question mark.

I threw-up and/or dry-heaved 6 times between Winding Stair and Jake Bull.  (That's 9 total so far, for those keeping count.)  I should have made it to the aid station long before sunset, but I end up getting out my headlamp for the last mile or two.  At 15:35 (8:35pm) I finally see my crew.  I'm now 55 minutes behind schedule as I enter the aid station.

I immediately sat down.  My crew was prepared with tummy-friendly food, but I couldn't eat much of it.  I shivered under a blanket.  I eventually changed into some dry clothes - and warmer clothes for the night section of the course (including my new running kilt).  As I had been approaching the aid station, I had made peace with the likely DNF that would occur.  I honestly wasn't sure if I had enough time to make the cutoff for the final aid station (Nimblewell) or the overall 25-hour cutoff for the race.  I probably didn't have enough buffer to just walk it in.  Even if I did, I was losing about 2 minutes every time I had to stop to vomit.

My crew encouraged me to get up and get going.  "There's still time.  Don't quit."  For me, I'm wondering if it's even physically possible to complete the course if I'm not able to hold down any food or liquids.  Almost an hour goes by.  It's now or never.  If I don't get moving, there definitely won't be enough time.  So, I decide to give one more push.  I grabbed a banana just in case I might be able to eat it, and left the aid station at 16:37.  Forget about being on schedule now.  It's all about cutoffs, and I left 23 minutes ahead of the Jake Bull cutoff.  (Remember the good times when I was 2 hours ahead of the cutoffs?)  I had to reach Nimblewell, and leave, before 21:00 on the race clock (2am).

I was walking, but walking "with purpose".  There is a short-ish trail section after Jake Bull before you exit out onto a road and start a 7-mile climb up the the aid station.  The course is slightly different than when I did it in 2018 and 2021. The previous course was maybe half road, then half trail.  Now, it's all road.  And it goes *forever*.  A constant 9-10% grade.  Unrelenting.  And it's dark.  And you're sleep deprived.  I actually nodded-off several times while hiking up that road.  I had picked up my second trekking pole at Jake Bull, so I never fell.  But the siren call of sleep was strong.  All I wanted was to go to sleep.  The side of the road would be fine.  I didn't need a bed, or anything.  Just to lay down and close my eyes.

But I didn't.  At least, not except for the "micro sleeps" that happened during the death march up the mountain.  You hear stories of runners "hallucinating" during ultramarathons.  I wouldn't say that I hallucinated, but my brain was definitely misinterpreting what it saw.  At no point did I actually think I was seeing things that weren't there.  But there were several times where, out of the corner of my eye, it looked like there was someone there hiking beside me.

The road went up and up and up.  I kept waiting for the turn onto the "trail section".  At that point, I thought they had only moved the aid station - not that they had changed the course.  Once in a while, I would question if I was still on the course.  But I had preloaded the course on my watch, and it would alert me if I were off-course.  So I kept trudging along and would eventually see a course marking a few minutes later.  Maybe 2/3 into the climb, the "sweepers" caught up to me.  That meant I was the last runner.  No other runners behind me.  My tired brain had thought I had more time to reach the aid station than I really had.  But even once I figured out my miscalculation, I figured I would just barely make it in time.  The sweepers kept me company until we came across another runner, sitting down on the side of the road.  (He looked fine, and in good spirits.  Just obviously had decided he had had enough.)  So I continued on to Nimblewell, leaving the runner and two sweepers behind.  Along that long climb, I had to stop **13** times to vomit or dry-heave.  Each stop took 1-2 minutes.  Still, I kept going.

I made the final turn toward the aid station and saw a car coming my way.  I recognized the driver as the race director.  He slowed down, leaned his head out of the window, and said "If you want to continue, you better start jogging!  The aid station is just up ahead."  I looked at my watch and saw I had 5 or 6 minutes before the cutoff.  Unless I had misjudged the location of the aid station, I should be able to walk it in.  Still, I didn't want to miss the cutoff by minutes (or seconds), being that close.  So, I started jogging.

I got to Nimblewell 2 minutes before the cutoff.

Nimblewell was probably my shortest stop of the day.  I stopped long enough to tell the aid station volunteers I was moving on, and that I didn't need anything.  I had barely drank any of the water I took from Jake Bull, so there was plenty to get me to the finish.  I kept moving down the trail toward Amicalola Falls...

Once I got down into the park, the course was definitely hillier than I remembered.  Nothing crazy, but it was not the "mostly flat" I had in my brain leading up to the final climb up the waterfall.  Nope, there were actual hills to go up and down.  I kept struggling to stay awake, nodding off on my feet every now and then.  In the first two hours after Nimblewell, I vomited/heaved 5 times.  At one point, I decided to sit down on a bench to wait for the next wave of nausea.  It didn't come, and I felt myself falling asleep.  So, I got back up and started moving again.  It was a 5 minute stop, but felt like 30 seconds.  Looking at my watch, I thought there was a chance I might not make the 25-hour cutoff.

My eyes/brain continued to play tricks.  I saw a couple oblong black shapes laying along the trail.  This was not long after seeing signs to "be aware of bears".  I started making some noise, but the shapes didn't move.  When I got closer, I finally saw they were just logs.  

Based on my 2018 finish, I wanted to allow an hour for climbing the 700 stairs to get to the top of the waterfall, then descend to the finish line.  My pace was going to get me to the stairs right around the 24-hour mark.  It was going to be close!!  I stopped to vomit/heave 3 more times after my brief stop on the bench.

The course descends down an old busted road, then turns onto a paved path before you get to the waterfall.  While going down the busted road, I finally saw another runner.  The first one since Nimblewell.  We recognized each other from earlier in the race.  She apparently had made a wrong turn and was also now in danger of finishing before the final cutoff.  She said she was glad I made the Nimblewell cutoff, and that I looked like I was moving well.  I told her I didn't come this far not to make the final cutoff.  I passed her on the downhill and didn't see her after that.  I hoped she would pick up her pace enough to finish in time.

I emerged from the woods near the Amicalola visitor center at 23:46 and got on the path toward the falls.  It was definitely steeper than I remembered!  I definitely remembered a slight climb from 2018, but this was some serious effort.  Enough effort that I started to wonder - did they take out the stairs when they were damaged in 2021, and replace them with a paved path up the falls?  Of course, they didn't.  But that's what it felt like.

I reached the base of the stairs right around the 24-hour mark, as I expected/feared.  In 2018, it took me 52 minutes to ascend the stairs, then descend to the finish.  (Or so I thought at the time- I think it was actually 52 minutes including the paved path...)  But I didn't realize that until later.  Instead, I was seriously wondering - would an hour be enough time?

I had gone long enough without a wave of nausea, that I decided to just go for it.  I had spent many, many hours training on the stair machine for this race.  Time to make that training pay off.  I saw a sign "175 steps".  Hell - that's easy!  I charged up the stairs in about 3 minutes.  Of course, there were many more stairs to follow.  A brief zig-zag later, and I was at the next set.  The sign said "Difficulty - Strenuous.  425 steps."

I continued my charge, anticipating a wave of nausea at any moment.  Fortunately, it never came.  About halfway up, I backed off slightly on the effort, but kept a steady pace.  Total time to ascend *all* the stairs:  less than 10 minutes.  Now, all that was left was to run a short bit down the road, turn into the woods, and head for the finish!  As I mentioned before, downhill running has always been a strength, and something I can do even on tired legs.

I passed a pair of runners on the road.  They said they saw my charge up the stairs and were impressed.  I said a quick thanks and kept going.  After turning into the woods, it's a very technical descent on the trail.  I had my trekking poles to make it less treacherous, but care was still needed.  I made great time through the woods and came upon a group of 5 runners maybe 50 yards from the finish.  It was a particularly steep part of the trail, and the group was being very cautious (and slow) making their way down.  I planted my poles like I was downhill skiing, and zipped past all of them.  I emerged from the woods, splashed through the creek, and crossed the finish line at 24:28:00.

Along with some mandatory safety gear, all runners are required to carry a 1-pound railroad spike for the entirety of the race.  At the finish, you exchange your (plain) spike for one that has "Georgia Death Race" engraved on it.

A new visitor center is being built for the park.  Due to the construction, parking was limited so there were no after-race festivities.  I thanked the race director, took a couple more pictures, then we drove back to our room for some much-needed sleep.  (After a quick shower of course.)

I've had some time now to reflect on the race and, while it wasn't exactly the performance I wanted, I'm happy with the result.  I certainly wanted a faster finish, and a more pleasant second half.  After all, what's the point of all that training if you're still miserable and barely finish?  Well, the stomach issue was a new one that I haven't had to deal with before.  Had I been less trained and less fit, I definitely could not have finished.  Had I not had a crew there, I would not have finished.  Heck - if the rules hadn't been changed to allow trekking poles, I may not have finished.  (I probably would have picked up a stick in the woods if poles had not been allowed...)

It's hard to say what caused the nausea.  Dehydration probably played a factor.  All the junk food I was eating probably played a factor.  Maybe allergies - my nose was running a lot the second half of the race.  I suspect there was significant drainage going into my stomach that could have contributed to the nausea.  Heck - maybe it was the Miller Lite?  Maybe all of the above?

What I did learn was that sitting for an extended period of time didn't make a bit of difference.  So, it's better to keep moving, even if it's slow.  Perhaps if my crew had been at Winding Stair, when the symptoms were relatively new, they could have made a difference.  By the time I got to Jake Bull, I think it was too late.  If it happens again, I will try to keep eating and drinking, even if I just end up vomiting.  I figure if I can keep 5% of it down, maybe it'll accumulate enough to get out of the death spiral.

I'll also rethink my nutrition plan for future races.  Junk food is convenient because it's very calorie-dense.  And I won't eliminate it entirely.  But I'll also have some more tummy-friendly food to eat, so it's not all bacon and apple pies.

On a positive note, I felt so strong the first half of the race that it really re-invigorated my love of trail running (and racing).  Going into the race, I had some doubts whether my body could take the pounding and abuse.  I think I've gained some more confidence that my ultra-running days aren't over quite yet.  

Next up is the Mountains-to-Sea 50K on April 16th.  Not much time to recover from GDR, and I normally would not have signed up for another race so soon after a big one like that.  But it's the final race in the "Tough as Trails" race series that I signed up for...  I ought to have enough time to be ready.  At the time I'm writing this, it's 11 days away.  I'm still working through some knee issues with my PT.  It may be a game-day decision whether to run or not, but I think it's pretty likely I'll be able to.  After that, it's the Eastern States 100 in mid-August.  It's supposed to be one of the toughest races on the east coast.  I'm envisioning something akin to GDR, but longer.  So I have some things to figure out between now and then.

I'll wrap this up by thanking my amazing crew. Jill and Liz - you were awesome!!  I definitely would not have finished without you being there.  Jill especially got my butt out of the chair at Jake Bull.  Thank you!!  Also, a big thanks to the GDR race directors and volunteers.  This is a really well-run event, and you can tell the RDs put a lot of work into it.  And the volunteers!  They are some of the best that I've seen at any race.

I'll also give a quick shout out to Dr Askeland and Dr Lintz at Askeland Chiropractic and Acupuncture, as well as Dr Bill at MyPotential Life & Body.  You all have helped me work through the various aches, pains, and injuries I've incurred while training for this race.  I wouldn't have even made it to the start line without you.