Arkansas Traveller 100

I've talked about the Arkansas Traveller for about a year now and I've generally kept a long list of excuses for not doing it.  Mainly, I thought that I was too busy with school (not true), or the distance wouldn't be fun (not true), or I couldn't do it (not true), or that it was too expensive (relatively not true).  I held on to the latter idea as long as possible until late August.  A friend of mine gave me a birthday card with a check made out for the AT100.  I turned in my application after the Mt. Nebo run and the date was set.  

I struggled a long time trying to figure out my training.  I had several attempts at 50 milers that hadn't gone all that well and was deeply concerned that that would be the case for this race.  However, I had no desire to be doing 80-mile weeks all summer.  After a terrible 50 miler in July, I changed things from a  focus on super long runs, back to backs and the such and substituted two-a-days and weight lifting.  I could average 60 miles a week without a long run over 12 miles and I would do endless amounts of weighted squats until my muscles would quiver.  I had a small handful of 20+ runs, maybe 5, since May but had many within the 16 mile range and never had back-to-backs.  I essentially took on the opposite idea of a lot of people; instead of doing 3 hard weeks with 1 for recovery I would have 1 week of hard then chill out for a while until I felt like doing more.

Tapering was essentially forced upon me by my school schedule and my complete lack of desire to move within two weeks of the race.  My last weekend was spent doing a 95 mile bike ride with my dad and a 12-mile run on Sunday with a group of guys.  The rest of that week leading up to the race I slept in, ate well, and did a decent bit of school work to keep busy.  Come Friday morning I hadn't thought about the race nor had I prepared for the journey in the least.  I stayed home from school that day to pack my drop bags and buy a few things as well.  I headed out to the packet pickup/race dinner at Camp Ouachita and had the chance to catch up with some of my buddies that I hadn't seen since I had started tapering.  We had out pre-race meeting and waited around for the free spaghetti dinner provided by the fire department for the county (Perry?).  I headed home and dropped off a few things at my pacers house for them to have the next day.  I came home and decided to please Helen by staying up to watch some True Blood with her.  I didn't get to bed until 11pm and woke up at 3am.  I drank some coffee, had a pre-race drink mixture and started the drive out to the race start.

The gun went off at 6am along Highway 324 and we were off headed north to Brown's Creek Road; it was the last asphalt we would see for 96 miles.  A lot of us didn't bring headlamps for this section so we grouped around some people that did.  At this beginning I had the chance to run with most of my training buddies getting some good catching up and some ill-conceived singing (Jenny).  The road leads to the first aid station which is placed at the beginning of the single track section of the course on the OT.  We followed this for 8 miles coming out at the Lake Sylvia aid station around mile 16.  I grabbed a grilled cheese and was out of that area as fast as I could.  This connected to 132C and this is where Stacey caught up with me.  We ran together fairly regularly and made the unspoken decision to stay with each other.  We were both shooting for sub-24 hours and we were already one hour ahead of that pace.  "I hope this doesn't come back to bite us..."

I made my first extended aid station stop at Electronic Tower to get my Camelbak refilled.  My only complaint about race crew came from here and the next aid stations where I refilled.  The folks were holding the pack on the sides which also were areas of the bladder.  So, it was only getting filled up about half full which made me stop an extra time for a refill and to have to eventually just do it myself.  I'm feel lucky that that is the worst that I can say about that.  Stacey and I reached Lake Winona about an hour ahead of schedule, enough to make it where her crew weren't even there yet.  This began what I think is the most undulating and most easily ran portions of the course and I was excited to get some solid running in.  I was playing very conservatively with every hill I met and probably walked more early in the race than I did later.  I would then hammer the downhills to make up the time.  In no time we were at Club Flamingo where Paul Turner waited with a "sexy" nurse outfit on.  He was definitely the ugliest woman in Arkansas.  This was starting to become the warmer part of the day and I was beginning to feel dry mouth and was not urinating as well as I wanted despite taking many electrolytes and drinking as much as I thought my stomach could handle.  We reached the 80s themed Smith Mountain aid station and soon began the rather nice hike up with plenty of time to sip on water and munch on some sandwiches.  This is the point I began to feel my energy begin to slack off a bit which was a concern being around 44 miles into a 100 mile race.  I went through the BM road aid station and didn't grab anything because my body just didn't want anything else at that point; with so much going in, I was beginning to feel bloated.  The good news was that Powerline was only 2.1 miles away.  This is where I would pick up my first pacer and was also just a good place to see a lot of people.  Stacey pulled away from me before we arrived and stayed ahead of me until much later in the race.

As I headed down the road to I saw Howard sprinting toward me.  Apparently he and Dave had just arrived, Dave was parking the car, and they were not ready for me.  He soon came barreling down the hill with my box of equipment on his shoulder; which is still one of my favorite memories of the whole race.  I checked in and got weighed in at 191 pounds, pretty heavy and over 18 pounds away from the 7% mark where you get pulled - no worries there.  I was quickly swarmed by a plethora of people including people I know and aid station worker ready to help me.  I asked for blister treatment and was sent to a chair and a guy named Mike.   He used a syringe needle to drain a blister on my left heel, put a bandage on it and I was set.  I decided to change shoes here as well trading in for my trail shoes which made a huge difference on the way that my feet felt.  It was a good thing that I had to do all of this because Dave, my first pacer, was still getting ready.  I headed down the road leaving the aid station and Dave caught up with me soon after.  We got to talking and then I asked him what equipment he grabbed.  Come to find out, we had forgotten my headlamp.  Dave took off sprinting back to the aid station and I kept moving forward.  I wanted to wait on him but there were some really nice downhill sections that I had to hit hard.  He eventually caught up with me and at about the same time Jenny and Jack had caught up.  We chatted a bit and she eventually passed me.  

I passed some of the people that had gotten by me during my extended aid station stay and got into a steady pace with the mostly downhill section.  By this point my quads were beginning to feel the downhills.  To be cautious, I walked a lot on these whenever I felt like it.  At Powerline I had dropped the Camelbak and instead I had the pacers carrying a handheld bottle that they would pass to me during walking periods.  By mistake or purpose, Howard had filled up with Heed instead of water but Heed soon became my go to from this point out.  The benefit of having a pacer came at Copperhead...Dave shot ahead and filled up my bottle and had the aid station staff getting together Mtn Dew and PB&Js for me.  While Dave was certainly the best at this, the pacers doing this helped me not spend more than a minute or so at each aid station.  This could have made all the difference with my time - there are 25 aid stations, spend a little more than 2 minutes at each and you've added an hour to your time.

The 5.8 miles to the turnaround were some of the longest miles evident by my water bottle being empty much sooner than I wanted.  My hydration was starting to feel a bit better but my quads were still feeling the downhills.  The return trip was mostly uphill though and I ran more uphill than I ever thought I would during the race.  I would constantly get passed by some runners coming down a hill just to pass them on the uphill, so on and so on.  I met a runner that I was loosely aware off, Jacob Evans, and enjoyed chatting with him during this section as well.  He went on to finish an amazing hour ahead of me.

Dave and I made it back to Powerline around 8pm.  I weighed in again, 189, and spent a little time digging through my stuff to decide on equipment to bring.  I picked up Howard here as a pacer and told him that the uphills were feeling better than the downhills so that he could strategize accordingly.  We took off and I got a little more chatty than I had been the whole race up to that point.  We returned to BM road quickly which had a dirt mound in front of the entrance that I swear grew since I had been there last.  We began the ascent of Smith Mountain.  At some point I asked Howard a riddle, "Does an ultrarunner poop in the woods?"  He said he didn't know; I said, "Let's find out."  We ascending the infamous mountain cautiously and I was intensely waiting to hear the music to let me know the aid station was coming soon.  This was mile 73.9-ish and I was beginning to feel the sleep deprivation and the pain in my feet.  I had blisters on each small toe break already and I kept using that pain to keep myself moving.  That intense of pain did allow me to lose track of the other pains that I was feeling everywhere else - silver lining.  

Howard continuously timed walking and running and drinking to a rhythm while entertaining me a bit with conversation in between.  He even took up singing the 80s music around Smith Mtn aid station - no comment.  As we approached Club Flamingo the volunteers ran out to meet us to see what I wanted.  By the time I got there everything was ready and I set off down the path eating and drinking waiting on Howard to fill up his Camelbak.  About a third of a mile down he remember he took out the spare headlamp and left it at Club Flamingo.  We decided he could go back for it while I walked.  This took much longer than I thought and ended up being about 25 minutes out there by myself.  Not a big deal, but I had been use to having someone with me for a while at that point.  I started going a little crazy and was ready to fend off ravenous beasts that didn't exist.  

At mile 79, just before Pig Trail, I passed Stacey who looked like she was having a rough go at it.  We went through the station quickly and starting making our way to Lake Winona.  At Winona (12:20am) I weighed in and did the usual food and drink as well as I finally got to see my parents and Helen who came out and waited hours to see me for a few minutes.  That's love folks.  I looked Joe, my next pacer, in the face and it took me a second to realize who was talking to me.  We took off down the road catching up on the race and aid station gossip.  Some of the worst roads I have ever seen exist in this section and there difficulty multiplied since the morning because of my exhaustion and the dark.  Joe took a quick tumble but said he was ok (I think he lied).  We spent a lot of time walking some of the long hills in this area but had good spurts of running as well.  Joe was incredibly encouraging and made it sound like I was running twice as fast as I probably was.  At some point I asked him what pace I was running:  13:30. Ha!

Time slowed on FSR 212 which felt like it was forever uphill and rocky.  I walked more than I should have here and was elated to see Electronic Tower off in the distance.  Here, I took a seat for the first time since Powerline and enjoyed sitting there while Joe took care of filling up and the such.  Across from me was another runner who said I would be in 12th because I was going to pass him here.  We left and started down the last of the nice dirt roads that we would see.  Joe was worried that the guy was going to catch up and use us a drafters and kept looking back.  Eventually we would see that runner again and he would prove useful in two different ways.  On 132C I was walking a lot but had several 5 half mile runs in between walking bouts.  I likely lost 10 minutes on this section alone but I can't regret the relative rest that the walking afforded me.  At some point I realized my light was beginning to give out.  Joe and I swapped lights and I went ahead as he stayed back to change the batteries.  20 minutes later I though I was going to have to report a dead pacer.  I had a vision of Joe not having batteries and light the trail with his iPhone or something else.  Come to find out, Joe realized that he had dropped a pouch containing his keys and was trying to back track.  He didn't know where exactly he lost it so he apparently gave up and started catching back up with me.  

We made the creek crossing on 132C slowly and with a bit a swaying.  Soon after the runner that I had passed at the aid station went by me followed by another guy soon after.  I yelled a bad word, peed for the last time, and started the attack.  I couldn't deal with the idea of someone passing me without a fight.  We caught up to the first passer who had been passed himself by the other guy.  He ended up asking if anyone had dropped a pouch with keys in it.  Joe reclaimed his property and I put a bit more speed in.  We ran for two miles up hill without stopping and without regard to the rugged terrain.  I wasn't going to get passed again and I wanted to catch the other guy.  When we crested 132C and reached the Crossroads, I yelled dirty words again and knew that there was just a bit over 2 miles to go.  Up ahead about a half mile we could see the headlamp of the next runner.  I told Joe, "Let's get him!" and I took off as fast as I could go.  We made some headway but the runner was definitely aware of us and seemed to speed up himself.  after about 1.5 miles we slowed back down and took another walk break.  We jogged for a while as we reached the last hill we took another walk break.  I was happy walking but kept looking back for the other runner.  Then I heard it, music, and then there were lights.

Joe told me to take off and go get it.  I took of sprinting up the remainder of the hill at a fast pace.  The effort was exhausting but my adrenaline made the pain disappear.  My dad was at the top of the driveway as I turned down it to the finish line.  I finished in 22:30 and some seconds with my mom, Helen, and Chrissy Ferguson to greet me.  I was ushered inside to talk to the race doctor who gave me the all clear quickly.  I was elated and didn't feel tired at all for several minutes.  But that didn't last.  After getting my feet cared for I was sitting in a chair and became nauseated.  I tried to stand up and go to a lounge chair but quickly fainted.  Instead of putting the effort into getting me up, the medical staff gave me a pillow and wrapped me with a sleeping bag.  I spent several hours trying to feel better.  I finally moved to a daddy-made spot on the floor after refusing a IV from the staff.  I stayed there until the awards ceremony later.

Now, a day and a half after finishing, I am proud of the time I ran which was well below my goal.  I feel overly grateful to have the people who got me through this race.  Dave, Howard and Joe are some of the most selfless people I have ever met and each essentially volunteered to pace me.  They each gave up their day to help me through this journey without any direct benefit for themselves.  The willingness of people like these guys is inspiring and heart-warming for a young guy like me as well as being incredible role models.  Thank you three for everything, carrying that bottle, talking to me, not talking to me, lighting my way, keeping me company, etc.  Huge thanks to my parents who drove down from Van Buren after I told them many times to stay away and to Helen who comes out to see me do the stupid things I do more than I deserve.

The race is incredibly organized.  There are more than twice as many volunteers as there are runners.  The Fergusons are the perfect directors who's love for running and energy makes everyone ready for the next one.  

Will there be a next one?  If you ask, you must not know me.    My feet are swollen, I'm going to lose 4 toe nails, the blisters are nearly unbearable.  But what a journey and experience.