I arrived in Oak Ridge late on the Thursday before the event. I settled in the hotel, excited to pick up packets the next day. Friday, was non-eventful, I slept in getting a good night’s sleep, as I know my body doesn’t like to sleep the day before a big event and I visited the park before packet pickup. Around 1 pm I had my packet and course map in my hand. I quickly discerned what I thought was the route and verified it with another group of folks. I then studied the route and committed it to memory along with the trail plaza colors, any special features and any trail blaze colors/names that you were to absolutely not be on. It was probably over kill, as I would find out later, but I had never been in the park before and many race reports were outlined with taking a wrong turn. I wanted to be as prepared as possible.
On Saturday morning, I caught a ride from Oak Ridge with a fellow Maine runner. My ride back was coming to the finish line later. We arrived about 50 mins before the race start. We were probably in a line of 10 cars, and could see the start line before we had to stop and wait. Overall, I don’t think it took us more the 5 mins to move along and get out of the car. Very impressed with their efficiency and organization. I had about 40 mins to kill before the start. I dropped my bag at the designated location and I went to the line for the restrooms. The portable toilets were in two rows with a single line of people between at the end of the rows. I found this odd, as I would think that all the toilets in one row with a single line of people in front of each would be more efficient, but heck whom am I to judge. The line moved faster than I expected anyway.
After the restroom I chatted with several other runners here and there and then announcement came over of 15 mins to go. Time really flies. At that point I realized I had forgotten to apply my sun screen, I wanted to wait as long as I could. I went back to my drop and applied. 10 mins to go I was back at the start and I crowded in with the 500 other runners about to start the day. I chatted with a few other runners, one who had a really cool camera that was the size of inhaler. He had also completed the 50K four other times. We ended up seeing each other a few other times, but he would pass me on Chimney and I never saw him again. I imagine he achieved his 5th Croix. With a minute to go the energy picked up and the crowd really packed in. Before I knew it the cigarette was lit and we were off. I started out in probably the front ¼ of the pack and I am glad I did.
We ran the mile or so up the road to the yellow gate, and turned onto our first switch back of the day, up Bird Mountain. I had maintained my top ¼ position, but it still wasn’t enough to avoid the conga line that is this climb. However, I did get in behind a very nice gentlemen (I forgot his name, so I will call him Black Shorts) who took no issues in asking people to move aside and I followed his lead up Bird. The only time I felt frustrated by not being able to run my own pace was coming back down Bird. About 4 of us had tucked in behind black shorts and closed the gap to another conga on our way down the other side. We were moving at an okay pace, so we just stayed put. It was on the way down Bird that I felt the presence of something poking at my left heel (pebble or stick, whatever) . I of course, being the experienced runner I am, immediately stopped and corrected the issue…..NOT. I was so happy to be actually running again, even if I ideally wanted to go faster, that I ignored that little pain and it would come back to haunt me soon enough. I told myself I would stop and fix my shoe at the first aid station, it would be fine. This was the first lie I told myself that day.
Once we reached the second climb of the day, the conga line really broke up and my group of 4 with black shorts leading the way set a steady pace of power hiking up and running down. We did this all the way to the first aid station, well ahead of the 50K pace time. I quickly got my bib punch and headed down the road, not needing fuel or a re-fill at this point. The trails had all been good so far, but this section was the pebble road of death on my feet. I had not conditioned for this kind of downward pounding with all the small rocks. This was also the point where I realized, oh right, stop and shake out my shoes….too late. My left heel was on fire and anytime I put pressure on it going downhill, it would kill me. Again, my experience would tell me to stop, take the shoe off, apply the mole skin and then continue on, but not this version of Bucky; This version of Bucky trudged on. This was also about the point, I realized it was time to visit the bush for some “thank goodness I packed them” baby wipe time (yes, I had a disposable zip lock bag that went into the trash at Aid#2, carry-in/carry-out). Except there weren’t any bushes, so I settled on a corner with a good built up gravel bluff so fellow runners did not have to witness what those poor trees did.
Afterwords I continued my painful trudge down the road and heading to aid station #2. We were back in the visitor center area and a women gave the encouraging words “you’re doing great, top 60.” I thought, fantastic, even with the heel pain and bathroom break I am making great time. I hit the second Aid Station again still well ahead of the 50K completion pace time. I quickly topped off my liquids and attempted to eat a ½ cliff bar. It was just not good. Congealed in my mouth and it took everything I had to swallow it.
After Aid #2 we started a steady climb up, up, and oh wait, more up. This entire section kicked my ass, I got passed left and right and felt like I was moving through quick sand. But heck, I was gaining ground on black shorts again, as he had gotten ahead of me after Aid #1. Alas I never officially caught up to him again because we hit another downhill section, and off he went and I just kept getting passed. Downhill running was not in my playbook any longer, because of my heel and I was in trouble. But hell, why not stop and put on that mole skin, but NOOOO, we just keep going like a moron. This was the first time of the day, that I honestly didn’t think I was going to make it, but I told myself just keep moving to the next aid station and then you can quit. So I walked, hobbled, and finally reached that GD top, (hey there is literally a Chimney up here, cool). It was about at this point I was passed, yet again, by a very nice lady, who had finished a BFC or two prior. I didn’t catch her name, but thank you for stopping to answer my annoying questions and offering advice. She offered me great advice and told me that I was still making good time and I could walk the rest of what I had to and still make the decision point before the time cut off. She offered me much needed encouragement when I was at a very low point. She of course kicked off and was gone, I don’t believe I ever saw her or passed her again. It was at that point, I finally wisely decided to stop, take off my shoe, get passed by about another 10 runners and put mole skin on my damn heel….and what do you know, it helped, because of course it fucking did. I was finally able to turn my hobble walk into a hobble shuffle that one might call a run if they were so inclined to believe that is what I was actually doing. I did so dub my hobble shuffle, Turtle Speed, and kept trudging the last 3 miles or so to Aid Station #3.
I reached Aid Station#3 in better spirits and didn’t even once consider quitting. I arrived with still plenty of time ahead of the 50K pace time, just over an hour at this point, and that is about where it would stay for the rest of the day. I quickly filled up all my fluids, ate my stinger waffle bar, got my first punch from the great and wonderful Oz (Laz, mastermind of evil), and away I went down another road. I left this aid station feeling good again and set a steady turtle speed down the pebble/rocky road. At this point, I told myself and another runner who prompted the topic, a big fat downright lie. He said “oh those are cool looking shoes”…I told him about Xero shoes and how I love them and the feeling of being close to barefoot…..his follow up question “how do they feel on these rocks”?….my answer “oh not bad at all really, I am suffering from a bit of a heel issue, but otherwise I would be flying down this hill and the rocks wouldn’t be a bother”….after that I did take off down the hill, because I didn’t want him to witness the grimacing on my face every time either one of my feet hit the ground, because I could feel EVERY single one of those stupid rocks. Next time, I am putting inserts in because those rocks really do suck and my feet were on fire.
Not long after we stated to climb back up, yet again, and finally hit testicle spectacle. It was about a mile long out and back trail, down first. I started down and the trail was pretty well blazed at this point, thank you to all the runners who were already ahead of me and those who passed. I did not put on my gloves going down and found it easier than I expected. There was shade in spots, a gentle cooling breeze and just not humid or that hot. I descended in about 15 mins, as there was a lot of stopping to allow other runners coming back up. At the bottom my bib was quickly punched, I put on my gloves, and started back up. I could see the top and where I had to go and knew I had it. I didn’t have to stop as much on the way up and it took me about 17 mins. Total of 32 mins on TS, not bad at all.
At the top to TS it was just a simple run down Meth lab…..yeah, right, “run”. It was about 3 miles to the prison and one heck of a trip down with some great butt sliding terrain. I even somehow managed to lose my shoe in mud. A quick recovery and I was off again. All day long the conditions had been dry, so I choose now and then not to question where this mud came from, why it was so deep, or really anything about it….it was simply mud. The terrain over really wasn’t terrible and the 30-40 mins it took me to traverse over to the prison gave me plenty of time to think, “ wow, TS and ML really didn’t meet the hype, RJ probably won’t either, I got this”…..I would regret that thought.
Soon the prison was in sight and there was the next beloved aid station#4. I quickly top off my liquids, down my protein drink since its around 2 pm and time for that. I also take up the offer from the very nice lady who let me share a nice cold can of coke with a fellow runner. I was in and out of the aid station quickly and despite what my face show in the prison pictures, I was feeling pretty good. I was even tempted to stop for some moonshine at the prisons restaurant/bar (I would do just that the next day), but instead I went up the ladder, got my bib punch, and over the wall. Into the tunnel I went, where I got to meet a lovely large puddle of very questionable water (it was this or the mud or the combo that would later make my shoes and socks stink up my hotel room and later on luggage like a scent from hell, three days later and several washes and a soaking in vinegar seems to have fixed them). After the tunnel and I looked up and went “What the fuck is that”….
I had finally hit Rat Jaw and I quickly realized my thoughts earlier were so very wrong. The sun was blazing hot, the grade was steep, the briars were thick and sharp….I put on my bandanna to protect my ears and back of neck from the sun, and slide on the gloves….after all how long can a .89 mile section last and I was well head of the cut off time. This section was by far the section from hell for me, it was hot, and tedious. After trudging up, bear crawling under briars (I still don’t’ fully grasp how the first few runners through this section survive, those people are my heroes), I reach one of the many false summit. .I just keep pushing through and go up the next section. Finally I reach another false summit and there is a team rangers/medical folks there and many runners vomiting and passed out in the grass area. I lay down, exhausted, and really question my sanity and why the hell I am doing this. My soft flask water bottle squeeze top pops off and water comes splashing all over me, and I realize I am not meant to sit and lay down. The rangers have some water and I re-fill my flask from the water I lost and I look and go up. I continue to trudge up this endless hell of steep grades, thorns, poison ivy (later discovery on my arm) and having to bear crawl large portions. I finally reach a rock wall section and I look up in envy recalling the one guy’s race report who said he scaled the wall to avoid a conga line, impressive feat. The only choice and the clear path went towards the woods, yet you are NOT supposed to go into the woods and they even have a bib punch somewhere in the middle of this nightmare to make sure you don’t. But with the large rock wall looming and in no mood to test my free climbing skills I head toward the woods figuring it will swing back in. This is the only trail navigation mistake I make in the day. I missed the path that takes you back up, it was just to the left right after you hit the woods. I overlooked it and went about 200 feet further up what could be construed as a wooded trail. I know in my gut it is wrong and I have missed something so I turn back. Just as I get back to the wall, another runner emerges and he kindly points out the trail on the side of the rock outcropping that was directly behind me that I had kept overlooking. Luckily, I had done my research and knew enough to know I was wrong, else I would have made a very crucial error that would have ended my day. Phew…. Not long after you finally reach the RJ bib punch to meet very kind and funny gentlemen. Thank you for sitting in briars all day for us. He points up and there you can see the final summit and the fire tower. I quickly move on and push for the top. I catch up to another group and almost get a foot in my face. I am sure it would have broken my nose, I don’t even think she realized I was there and I am sure I was too close. She probably should have kicked me. Just over an hour into this climb, and I am at the top where a very nice lady snaps your picture as you are coming out of the briar hole, thanks for that. I head up the three story fire Tower and get my 7th punch of the day. It is a quick jog down to aid station #5 and the drop bags.
I once again, move quickly in the aid station. I receive some help closing backup my pain in the ass water bladder, at this point I decide that this is that bladders last race. They are out of sword, but I have extra sword powder me. However, I give it to some folks that looked like they need it more. After all I have other options on me for electrolytes if I need it and I am feeling good. I dump all the stuff I don’t need into my drop bag, I drink ½ of a carbonated lemon drink I had, grab my poles (I didn’t train with poles and generally don’t use them, but this time I did), and headed to get my decision point punch#8 from Laz. He must have saw the determination in my eyes, either that or since I was more than an hour ahead of cut off, he did not challenge my resolve to continue this beast of a course. We do chat briefly and I shake his hand in appreciation for this challenge. I think about the true Barkley, not this baby one, and am awed and amazed at the caliber of athlete it would take to even start that course, let alone finish it. No wonder it has had such few finishers over the decades and why it is so hard to get into. I get my punch, and head out toward the final aid station. After all, it will be a quick 2 ½ miles to the final punch and aid station and then we are back on the same route we had taken that morning. I had done it once, it would be easy to do again…..another lie.
This section is once again dirt road with plenty of rocks, but not as bad as the others. I use my hiking poles to ease the pressure off my feet. The left heel is still bothersome but doable and the rest of my feet are just on fire. I do settle into a nice comfortable turtle speed that I can maintain on the slight up and down grades of this section. I reach the final aid station in around forty minutes. I get my final punch, fill up with sword since they have it, tuck my hat away, and off I go.
This section is all downgrade switchbacks and I get passed a few times, as I can really still feel that heel and at this point I know I will finish before the cut off time and that is all that matters at this stage. Slow and steady goes the turtle. Toward the bottom I become determined not to let another runner pass me (don’t ask why I changed my mind literally 30 seconds after I decided I wasn’t racing against anyone but myself), so I force myself to run the last few switchbacks, but again one guy catches up and passes just as we reach the bottom. We start climbing back up and I strike up a conversation with the passer, David. It is the most leisurely and pleasant conversation I have had all day. It made the climb back up go super-fast and I assure David this is our last big climb then it is a short 3 miles to the end, David let me believe that, but I don’t think he was convinced. It wasn’t the end, I had lost track of where I was.
We reach the top and David says “good bye” and starts running down another series of switchbacks. I am determined yet again not to fall behind, so I tuck my poles on to the pack and off I go. And “Holy Cow I am running at a great pace, I can survive this heel, this is it, I got this”…….I reach the bottom and there is a large dried up river bed, and not the right turn onto the road like there should be……motherfucker, David was right…..we still have to climb Bird again. Fuck….
I am still determined and decide I am done with this shit, I am not stopping to take out my damn poles again, I am going to power hike up this god damn mountain and there isn’t shit it can do about it…..lies, once again, at least they were the last ones. I catch up and pass several other runners and catch up and pass David. This never ending series of switchbacks, up thousands of feet, over several miles, kicks my ass. 10 mins after I pass everyone in my area, they all get the privilege of passing me back, I am whopped. I take back out my poles and trudge up this “stupid motherfucking, who designed this shit, a fucking crazy man, that’s who, goddamn trail”….Finally I reach the summit and take a seat.
I am tired, but it is confirmed we have 2 miles of downgrade switchbacks and 1 mile of pavement from the end. I once again tuck away my poles and I am determined to run down this mountain, and I do. I set a nice steady pace and am not passed again. After lots of switch backs I finally get to take that right turn, I was desperately thought was earlier and I see the famous yellow gate. I pass the gate and I am off like a bat out of hell. This last mile feels like I am running a 7- 7:30 min mile pace, can’t really tell because no GPS or actual distance gauge, but now I am cruising. I feel great, the endorphins have really kicked in, and my feet are thanking the universe to be able to run on pavement (which is weird because normally I hate pavement). I pass at least 10 other runners in the last section including my new friend David. I turn the last corner and there is the finish line. The crowd cheers and I sprint in. 12 hours and 25 mins later (an hour later then I thought I should be, but who’s counting) and I am DONE. I lay on the ground and breath. A very nice gentlemen, says “ you look like you need a water” and hands me a ice cold clear deliciousness bottle from the gods……maybe I wasn’t going as fast I as thought at the end, if I look that bad. I tell my finish line friend who has waited hours for me, “that was fun, and very challenging and I am never doing it again” (okay, apparently I wasn’t done lying for the day). I struggle back to my feet and hobble over to collect the coveted Croix, I earned that. Then on the table gleaning at me, are the Croix with small stars, mine is bare. It doesn’t have stars, why?, because those stars represent the number of times you have completed the BFC 50K and since this was my first I don’t get stars. It is then and there I realize, even though I said I was done 2 mins before that I was not done with BFC yet, I want my star. Dammit all to hell, when is the 2020 registration, sometime around October 1st, right?…may the lottery gods have mercy on my soul.
Running with Love 