Race Report: Georgia Death Race 2016

“You have to touch the magical pony before you leave the aid station!”

“I’m not going to touch the magical pony, I’m gonna kiss it!”

That was just one of the memorable interactions I had this past weekend at the 2016 edition of the Georgia Death Race, held in the beautiful mountains of North Georgia.

With the year’s edition of the Georgia Death Race being a ‘Golden Ticket’ race, I knew I had to go down and see where I stacked up against what I knew would be deep and fast field.  I had seen increasing success locally over the last couple years and was extremely excited to see what it was like to toe the line with some of the best racers on the east coast and beyond.

After a relaxing drive down on Friday and good nights rest in a cabin at Amicalola state park, I found myself on Saturday morning in the car with my buddy Josh, who was crewing me, on the winding road up to Vogel state park…and I definitely had the pre-race jitters. Even though my training had been great and I was well rested, I was nervous about what the next 12-15 hours would hold.  I was comforted by the fact that I had three awesome teammates running the race with me and I knew many of the other racers I would be seeing throughout the day.

Let's Race!

I snuck away from the crowd before the start for a little quiet time and sat by a creek in Vogel state park, thinking about my race strategy and trying to stay calm. Once the race started, my buddy Leif and I immediately found ourselves mid-pack, getting left behind by the leaders, most of whom definitely had an agenda that involved a golden ticket.  We spent the next several hours together, keeping the pace reasonable, but up-tempo through the big climb up Coosa mountain and onto the Duncan ridge trail. This section of trail was brutal. In a certain way though, the toughness of the trail was very comforting to me. It reminded me a lot of my home trails here in southwest Virginia. 

Running with Leif early in the race

We eventually settled in with a group of folks including Franklin Baker and Ron Brooks. As we headed towards Skeenah gap (mile 21.5) I found a little separation from the group and proceeded to quietly run on my own for awhile.  The descent into the aid station was the only out and back section where you could see who was in front and behind you and it was great to see how places 1-8 were shaking out as I entered this aid station in 9^th place. Horton was there and as usual yelled something about "slanty eyes" and told me not to be stupid. After seeing a bunch of folks on the way back up to Rhodes mountain, I was on my own for the next several miles. I started to get in a rhythm and tried to shake off the fatigue I was feeling from the earlier miles of the race. This section of trail was a mix of steep ascents and rocky, root-filled descents and I had a blast! The sun started to peak out and the temp was rising quickly. Right before reaching Point Bravo, where I would see my incredible crew of the first time, I surprisingly saw someone up ahead. I made the conscious effort not to spend too much energy trying to catch him but inevitably I found myself in chase mode for the last mile or two before Point Bravo (mile 28).  I charged into Point Bravo hot, sweaty and pumped up! It was awesome seeing my faithful crew here and I have to give them a huge shout out for the effort they put in to keep me going. I had told them initially that I would be taking my time through the aid stations, but I got caught up in all the excitement and wanted to get in and out in a hurry to hit the trail again.

High-five from Runbum [race director] coming into Skeenah Gap.

Leaving Point Bravo with the sun finally shining

I somehow left Point Bravo in 7^th place. From around mile 10 to mile 28 I had steadily moved up from about 20^th place to the point I was now sitting solidly in 7^th.  After crossing the Toccoa Swinging bridge, I found myself hitting my first low point. I was less than a 50k in to a 70 mile race and I honestly started feeling felt pretty trashed.  Each steep climb seemed to sap my legs more and more and on top of that, the sun had come out with a vengeance and was beating mercilessly on my back.  Here is where I first thought to myself, “why am I out here again?” Then I thought back to the start line when Runbum had stood on top of a vehicle and made all the racers recite out loud, “ I AM HERE TO HAVE FUN!”  So there it was. I was there to have fun and self-pity or despair had no place in my fun.  This next section leading up to mile 41 seemed like a blur because I was by myself and quietly was trying to re-invent my race. Runbum’s words kept resonating with me, “If you can get to the fire roads in the second half and be able to run, you will do great.” So since I knew was not quite to the fire roads yet, I tried to deliberately dial down the intensity for a little bit. I popped in my headphones and started running like it was just another day in the woods, like so many days I had spent in the beautiful mountains around my home. 

Jumping logs, having fun!

Soon enough I arrived at the mile 41 aid station. By this point the sun had once again given way to clouds and right when I arrived the skies opened up with rain. The amazing aid station volunteers tried to get me under the canopies to stay dry but I had places to go and racers to chase. I remember them saying to me, “Dude, you are the first person through here that doesn’t look TRASHED!” which I took as a compliment but they didn’t know that inside I was working very hard to not look trashed as well.  After kissing the magical pony I once again headed out into the forest and started thinking about seeing my crew in 8 or so miles. This section was the first where you hit a long section of forest service roads and I was able to open up a little bit, feeling smooth and relaxed. After several miles of gently rolling gravel roads I saw Darren up ahead and immediately knew something was wrong. As the ‘Team Doc’ for the VT Ultra team, I have had the privilege of watching Darren evolve over the last 4 years from a triathlete/road-racing freshman to the super strong ultra-marathoner he is today. It’s a little sad for me to think that he and the other seniors will soon be moving on to bigger and better things and I am super stoked for what the world has in store for these amazing young people who keep me inspired on a daily basis.  We briefly chatted and then I continued on my way up to the Winding Staircase aid station.  Here I hooked up again with my all star crew and switched shoes to better suit the final twenty-something miles.  In the process I managed to totally rip a hole through my pair of clean socks while attempting to put them on so I then had to put my dirty, wet socks back on my feet which was just gross and not pleasant. Oh well, things don’t always go as planned during an ultra.  Also at this aid station were the dynamic duo of AJW and Horton and it was great to get heckled by some familiar Virginia folks. Brian Rusecki was chilling there too, waiting for a buddy rather than racing onward so when I left, I found myself thrust into 5^th position. Happily, I ran down the mountain and onto the last couple sections of the course. This part was super smooth and runnable with fun winding trail sections. This took my mind off the growing discomfort of having 50 miles on my legs.

Rolling into the Jake Bull (mile 54) I was feeling strong ready to tackle the final 16 miles or so. I knew that 4^th was a good 15-30 minutes in front of me, so rather than thinking about chasing them down, I focused on taking care of myself and not faltering in the last miles. As the race had proven so far, anything was possible and no gap was too big to be lost. In the back of my mind there was still a possibility (even though a small one) that 2-4 could come back to me as long as I kept it together.  On I went, and soon hit the pavement of Nimblewill road. This felt strange because in many ultras I have done, hitting pavement meant you were almost done. In this case, I knew I still had a couple hours to go and darkness still had to fall. This got a little discouraging but a couple kids, who were playing outside their house decided to join me for a little bit and their enthusiasm and joy made all my aches and discomfort melt away….at least for a little bit.  The road took me back into the mountains and up a long fire road climb. This type of climb is one I was intimately familiar with because of how many of the ultras in Virginia take us up these extended road climbs. I was in a good place, walking and running up this climb, which seemed to keep going and going. The sun was setting over the mountains and what an amazing view it was. The sky was filled with bright oranges, reds and pinks as I made my last turn into the final aid station (mile 61) Here the volunteers helped me get my jacket out and headlamp on as the chill of night was starting to settle in and the wind was picking up quite a bit. 

The Nimblewill road climb was loooooooong

For the last time, I left the comforts of an aid station and started running into new and unfamiliar places. Darkness really brings out a different mentality to a race and I tried to tell myself that although these trails were new to me, I was not new to running long hours in the dark, cold mountains. Racing at night in the mountains was something I knew I was good at, and actually kind of enjoyed (I guess I have Dr. Horton and Hellgate 100k to thank for that) On I went into the darkness.

When I finally turned down the terribly technical ‘trail’ (rut/ditch/rock garden… whatever you want to call it but it definitely wasn’t a trail) heading into Amicalola State Park, I could see the lights from the finish area and I knew that I had made it. Oh wait, those thoughts ended up being WAY too premature because although I knew we still had some climbing left to do before finishing, I hadn’t wrapped my head around how ridiculously hard the climb up Amicalola Falls would be (Pro-tip: try and preview things like this before race day). Up the first section of 175 stairs I tried to keep a steady, solid rhythm. When I arrived a the viewing platform, I foolishly thought I just MIGHT be done with the steps, only to get gut punched when I looked to my left and saw a sign for 425 MORE STEPS. Yes. I thought 175 steps initially had done me in and then I had to triple that number just to get the PRIVILEGE of running straight back down a different trail to the finish. After dragging myself by the handrails up to the top of the falls, I looked down and saw that no one behind me had yet started the climb up the falls. 

Left: the stairs of death
Right: the view from the top of Amicalola Falls

This was a double edged sword because on one hand, I knew I was going to finish an awesome 5^th place in the most competitive ultra-marathon I have ever run but on the other hand, all motivation to finish hard and be tough on the last rocky, root-filled descent immediately evaporated.  Instantaneously my body started to feel fragile and broken, as if the weight of competition had been the only thing holding it together for the last 13.5 hours.  I hobbled down the road and onto the last section of trail in a daze, not able to really run or negotiate the rocks and roots without extreme difficulty. At one point there was flagging on a downed tree to signal racers not to run into it and I just stood there for at least a minute, staring blankly at it, trying to interpret where it was telling to go (it was saying go straight just don’t impale yourself on this log 0.5 miles from the finish) Finally I came upon the finish and crossed the creek desperately trying not to fall.  The last section was by far my slowest but overall I was extremely pleased with how I executed my race.  Runbum and my crew were there to greet me and that was that. 5^th place in 13 hours and 50 minutes.

How Strava saw the race

DONE !!!

As I threw my dirty railroad spike into the coffin at the finish, I was reminded about what Runbum had said at the pre-race meeting with regards to the symbolism of carrying the railroad spike for 70 miles on your back and then tossing it away when you finished before getting your finishers award (another railroad spike of course).  I thought about how this race carried a lot of meaning for me beyond just racing through the mountains of north Georgia just to see who was the fastest. There is a lot more to life than that.  I thought about all my friends and training partners at home who were cheering me on from afar, about how much time and energy they had invested in me and how I wanted to make them proud.  I thought about how inspiring my fellow UltraVT teammates who were still out racing were to me and how incredible my crew had been all day and night. I thought about my amazing wife, who sacrificed so much to let me put crazy hours into training for this race.  But most of all I thought about my mom, who just started her battle with breast cancer this past week. She was my ultimate inspiration during this race.  I kept thinking to myself about how trivial the burden of carrying a steel railroad spike across 70 miles of mountains on foot was compared to what my mom would be going through for the next days, weeks, months and years. It put things into perspective for me.

There is nothing that we can do or achieve as ultra-runners, adventure seekers or daredevils that can outweigh how tough, strong and incredibly resilient the people we love are.  God made us tougher than we know and that should be something that inspires us.

This one is for you mom.