My primary goal was to scout the climb from Gloucester Gap to Black Balsam Knob on the Art Loeb Trail. I expect the first 20 miles of the race course to be similar to the 2023 version of the event. If this is the case, there will be about 6,500 feet of vertical gain in that first 20 miles and I need to be able to do that, not get cut off, and then still be able to run 40 more miles.

The bulk of the 6,500 feet is between Gloucester Gap and Black Balsam. 1,800 feet stand between the gap and the summit of Pilot Mountain (not the state park) and 1,400 feet of climbing is required to get from Farlow Gap to the Blue Ridge Parkway, with the whole seven-mile climb totaling about 4,000 feet of vertical gain.

In 2023, Looking Glass 100K participants had three hours between cutoffs at Gloucester Gap and Black Balsam. I expect to be running up on cutoffs all day, so I wanted to see how I measured up with three and a half months until race day. Unable to find a loop with a reasonable amount of mileage, I settled for a simple out-and-back.

With climb happening about 14 miles into the race, I did not want this test run done on fresh legs. The day before, I chose a route of 10 miles with 2,500 feet of vert that would preview the first four miles of the expected course. I planned on it being an easy day that would fatigue my legs but would also not leave me stranded in Farlow Gap the following day.

After spending the entire night before getting rained on, my brain did not make the connection that if it rained at the campsite, it might also have rained on the trails surrounding the campground. I picked my trusty but blown-out Altra Lone Peaks because I needed to save my Altra Timps for the following day. This turned out to be a mistake. I spent the entire run (hike) slipping on every root and rock my feet touched. At one point, my feet rode a root off the side of the trail and I thought I was going to slide off the ridge and I started wishing I had an ice axe to self-arrest.

During the early miles, Coach Aaron Saft and his pacer passed me as he was starting his attempt at a double traverse of the entire Art Loeb Trail. While listening to his podcast on the drive to western North Carolina, I learned that he would be attempting the double, but I did not know when, so it was fun to see him start. This would not be my last podcast interaction of the weekend. We exchanged pleasantries and I wished them luck as they ran ahead.

On Saturday afternoon, I was well recovered but started getting in my head about the big day. I recognized this anxiety as something I dealt with the year prior before a big, solo day in the mountains. I began negotiating with myself: “you’ve done enough” and “maybe you can just go run the greenway.” I decided what I needed was to start closer to sunrise and that would help with the anxiety. After making sure everything was ready for a quiet exit in the morning, the rain started as I climbed into my hammock to go to sleep.

When my alarm went off at 5:00 am, I turned it off. The rained had not stopped all night and I knew the trails were going to be a soupy mess. I decided not to go and went back to sleep. At 7:00 am, I woke again. The sun was up, and I asked Barry for a forecast via text. He said it was it was clear after 9:00 am. With that, I got up and got ready. I would, at minimum, start and see how the day played out.

I started the climb up Pilot Mountain. I slid back down a couple of inches with every step up, but I put my head down and kept pushing up. I made it to 1,000 feet gained and figured, “what’s 800 more?” and made a push to the summit. The summit treated me to a view of several yards in all directions. At the summit, I decided to drop into Deep Gap so I could get at least 2,000 feet for the day. This continued to be a trend throughout the morning. I would hit a milestone and decide I could go to the next one. The next big decision point was Farlow Gap. It was a 1,400-foot climb to the Parkway, but I was feeling good and forged ahead.

Once I reached the Parkway, I knew I was close the Black Balsam and mailed it in mentally. This turned out to be a mistake. There are nearly two miles of the muddiest bullshit between the Parkway and Black Balsam Knob summit. The upside is that it is also not marked well, and I took a wrong turn where the Mountains-to-Sea Trail and the Art Loeb diverge after joining briefly. This is also when I saw the first people of the day since you can drive almost to the top of Black Balsam. For a day with no views, it was quite busy. Before reaching the summit, I ran into three runners that I assumed were doing the entire Art Loeb and mumbled a hello.

After popping out of on to the bald, I got cold for the first time. I had been wet all day, but the climbing warmed me up. The wind on the exposed bald cut right to the bone. It reminded me why it was worth carrying the extra weight in the form of a rain jacket and emergency bivvy. After taking a brief look around (I don’t linger, as Barry once said), I turned back and started plotting the fastest way down.

I knew I could cut off the bullshit section if I ran down the road and took the Parkway back to the Art Loeb and that’s what I did. There is no shoulder, so I ran against traffic with my red carbide tipped trekking poles out to the side. A driver might be willing to hit me, but they stay clear of the poles. As soon as I hit the Parkway, I saw it was closed and had to make a decision. It was a mile to the trail and there very well could be a landslide between me and trail. If that was the case, I would have to backtrack and climb back up and get back on the Art Loeb from Black Balsam. I decided to risk it and quite enjoyed running a 14-minute mile with no traffic. It felt almost apocalyptic in the dense fog.

The road was clear and once back on the Art Loeb, I was making good time as the trail had dried. I thought I heard voices and started catastrophizing. Scenes played in my head about getting run down and attacked. I had to tell myself that no one was out here waiting to attack me as we were at least three hard miles from a parking lot. I convinced myself that I was hearing my pack rustle as I moved.

While climbing out of Farlow Gap to Sassafras Knob, I learned where the voices had come from as the three runners I saw earlier were running up behind me. I wondered how I had passed them because the shortcut I took was not really a shortcut. I asked and they confirmed that they were running the entire Art Loeb, and I thought that was impressive considering the conditions. Upon reaching Deep Gap, I started to look for my shortcut to the bottom. I am like a truffle pig for a mountain road and the map showed a road that, not only cut off the Pilot Mountain summit, but also excluded the switchbacks. After finding it and weighing the risks, I decided to take it and try out my running legs again. The risk paid off as it was the plushest mountain road I’ve ever seen, and it was an absolute pleasure to run down for the final miles of the day.

Back at my car, I heard the voices again and I offered the three runners aid, since I was prepared to run 100 miles out of my car. The only thing they asked for was to take their trash. We stood around and introduced ourselves. Raven, Emma, and Brad wondered how I beat them down the mountain and I divulged my secret road. After a few minutes, I recognized Raven’s name from a Facing Vert podcast episode after she finished Hellbender this year. I also found out Emma is running Looking Glass as well. I wished them luck on their last ten miles and headed back to Brevard to get some lunch.

This weekend was my biggest training weekend since Umstead, and I’m pleased how it went. I faced and overcame some adversity and anxiety and still managed to do everything I had planned (except Tennent, but those were junk miles anyway). In nasty conditions, I did the climb from Gloucester Gap to Black Balsam (the road where the aid station should be) in 3:16. I have a lot of work to do but I’m hopeful I will get there by race day.

My strength training in the four months since Umstead is paying dividends. I never felt weak and felt I could climb another 5,000 feet if I needed to. I was able to run downhill with ease on the smoother, less muddy terrain. I also was not sore or tired from the first day. The quad I hurt at Umstead held up all day. Along with these revelations, I was reminded of the importance of shoe choice. After trouble on the first day, the Timps stole the show and I was only sliding in mud, which crampons wouldn’t have stopped. Hopefully, I’ll get a few more chances to practice in the mountains prior to race day.

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While I am ramping back up, I wanted to jump back on here, warm up my writing muscles, and post a life update.

Family

A couple of weeks ago, my wife and I welcomed our new son, Parker, into the family. We did not know his sex going into the birth, but we were convinced we would be having a girl. When the midwife announced the birth of our new baby boy, our jaws dropped. It took a lot of practice to stop calling Parker “she.”

Katie had gestational diabetes and we had an induction scheduled for Wednesday. She developed gestational hypertension on Tuesday, so we got to meet Parker a day earlier than expected, which was already a week before 40 weeks. Regardless of this, she rocked the delivery. After two natural births, she made the difficult decision to get an epidural and we were both very surprised how easy it went.

The complications made the hospital stay frustrating. We left the hospital quickly with our first two kids, but with all the risk factors, we had to stay longer and the doctor seemed like she was dragging her feet in letting us leave. We spent all of Thursday waiting on one thing, which did not even happen, so we stayed about 24 hours longer than we needed to.

Though frustrating, both mama and baby are home and healthy. Katie’s parents took the toddlers to their cousin’s birthday party out-of-state, so the first week was like having one kid again. After having been through this twice already, having one kid feels like a breeze.

The older kids are back home and we now feel like a complete unit, even though it is chaotic and the older kids (and old dog) are still adjusting emotionally to having a new younger brother.

Running

Spoiler alert: I did not finish the 2025 iteration of the Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run. I am working on the recap for that now. I am disappointed that I did not finish and it sucks to defer a dream for another year, but overall happy with how I performed in the conditions and excited to keep chasing it.

I decided that my first buckle will be from Umstead no matter what and will be registering for 2026 (once I ask my wife and she approves it). I am taking an off-season for the first time since I started ultrarunning because I feel like I am teetering on the edge of burnout.

I do not necessarily want to look like a runner next year, but I would prefer to look like an athlete (as opposed to the fatty that toed the line this year) so I will be focusing on eating, lifting, and swimming until my training starts in October. I will need to maintain some kind of running base but have yet to figure out how to work that in.

Swimming

After Umstead, I signed up for a 1.2-mile open water swim at Jordan Lake here in the Triangle. I had not swum since October, when I swam the other race in the series. Like the October race, I went into the Jordan Lake Open Water Challenge with absolutely no training. Nothing. No swims to even dust off the cobwebs. I just stuffed myself in to my jammer, donned the pair of goggles I bought for the October race, and sent it.

The race, obviously, did not go well. I was lapped by the winner of the 2.4-mile race, Becca Mann, before I was halfway done with mine. The water was pretty rough and I had to spend the first half fighting the wind. The back half was nice because all of that was at my back (feet?).

As I finished, some guy sprinted up the ramp past me. I assumed he was in the 2.4-mile race so I moved out of his way. I later learned that he was in my race, which resulted in DFL for me. I guess he needed that at the unserious pace we were swimming. I did finish first in my age group though…

I joked beforehand that I was cheating on ultrarunning with my true love, open water swimming. I rekindled an old flame and I am back in the pool. I started to remember all the races I used to dream about swimming and consuming all of the swimming content I can get my hands on (including Becca Mann’s recently released “Outside the Lanes” which I discovered the same day I learned she won the 2.4-mile event).

I decided to continue the affair through my running offseason. It works well with the new baby since I can swim in our neighborhood pool about 100 yards from the house. I signed up for an 8-week course to work on my stroke and I am eyeing a few races in September.

I originally committed to Swim the Loop in Wrightsville Beach, a 3.5-mile swim around an island in the Intracoastal Waterway. I have since found a 10-kilometer marathon river swim in Knoxville in September that has caught my fancy. If I think I can be ready for Bridges to Bluffs, I intend to cap my swimming season with it. It will require more planning, as it requires a pilot (someone paddling beside me to help with feeding and navigation), but I think I can make it work right now. If you want to kayak for four hours down the Tennessee River in late September, hit me up.

Writing

I am not sure where I want to take my writing. I really enjoyed hammering these words out, even with a newborn-addled brain. Maybe it is just a hobby. Maybe it is more. I will need to be more disciplined to know for sure.

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Before I saw the lights, I heard the music. The strings of lights lined the trail as it led to the start/finish. The light of the start/finish line grew brighter as I approached. I finished my second lap in just over seven hours for a total of 13, with one lap to go. It took a minute to wrap my head around the swarm of people that surrounded me.

I saw Tony, Jen, Cameron, and Stacey. Then the NASCAR pit stop started. A chair appeared. My bottles were filled. Drop bag opened. I (brilliantly) gave Tony a checklist a few days before so I would not miss anything before my last lap. Food. Check. Warm clothes. Check. Liquids. Check. Change sock. Shit. Back in the chair. My shoes were off in an instant and Jen was cleaning my feet. I (stupidly) had not turned my toe socks right-side out before the race, which I found out the hard way.

Finally ready to depart, with a hamburger in hand, Tony and I marched out of the aid station and into the dark. I was instructed to tell him the story of the “Rez Bear.” Once I was done eating, I went into every single detail of the battle I had been waging for my local trails. I also gave him a rundown on what to expect from the course because I was now a pro after two laps.

I had never been paced before and we spent some time figuring out how to handle it. Leading did not sound great for Tony as I had some awful gas. I am also prone to move too fast when I lead. We tried side-by-side but that didn’t work on the singletrack. And we tried having him lead. We eventually alternated leading throughout the night.

Night had fully set in when we arrived at Crossroads. I went through my routine of resupplying while Tony, ever the social butterfly, chitchatted with the folks we knew from TUFF. I head back into the night with Tony promising to catch up.

The darkness played tricks on your eye. The yellow and white blazes I had been following all day had reflectors in the middle for visibility at night. The trouble was that I thought the whole blaze was reflective, when it was only a small reflector in the middle of the blaze. This made them appear much further away than they were. It took me much longer to figure out than I care to admit.

There were people backcountry camping all over the course. I would have turned around and gone home the second I realized there was a race going on, but these people did not. Most of the night, we were talking as loud as possible, just having a jolly good time until we realized we were right next to a campsite. Something would always catch your eye, and I would automatically turn my head to investigate, only to realize I was shining my headlamp directly into someone’s tent. I felt this was fair payback for hearing “you are almost there” over and over through the day.

The rugged, “simply unrelentingly” nature of the course began to take its toll, which was entirely expected. I had trouble moving my legs to walk, let alone navigate through technical terrain. Every foot placement was now deliberate or I risked falling. I used my trekking poles to offset some of the difficulty. I made my final ascent up Sasquatch Summit, one step at a time, taking breaks along the way as needed. I remembered being very concerned about falling off the edge, a concern I did not have the two previous climbs in the daylight.

I finally made it to the top and realized that this was the last time I would have to climb Sasquatch. It almost made me sad. Everything hurt but I loved what I was accomplishing, plus every step was now a distance PR because the furthest I had run previously was 34 miles. The sadness quickly vanished once I reached Soul Crusher and I remembered that I was on the toughest section on my toughest lap in complete darkness.

You can see several of the blazes way ahead when climbing Soul Crusher at night. The problem comes with how far above you they seem. You begin to wonder if you even have the legs to make it up the climb, let alone finish the race.

The race holds monthly training runs that begin in March with the URE Marathon and continue until October, a couple of weeks before the race. Somehow my schedule conflicted with all but one training run. Making that training run was a Godsend though. The entire run was done in the pouring ran but I was able to see the course and I went into the race having respect for what I was about to attempt. I may have had 36 hours to complete the 100k, a generous time that would not have been offered unless it was part of a 100-mile race, but the course had the ability to end my day if not treated with the respect it deserved.

During that training run I also discovered how lonely it is in the woods. I have backpacked before, but I was generally with someone or was somewhere with a lot of people. Out there, aside from campsites, you may as well be in a desert. I joked with a friend a few weeks before the race that I was going to meet the devil out there in the middle of the night if I was not careful. That put into motion my effort to find a pacer.

Coming down Soul Crusher was harder than going up. We kept hearing noises that sounded like a bear. I knew there were not many, if any, bears out there so I tried to rationalize that in my head each time I heard the noise. “He’s here for my soul!” I thought each time I heard it. I finally was able to associate the noise with a tent and realized I was hearing people snore.

We came up on an injured runner as we approached Kelly’s Kitchen. I went ahead because I needed to move faster than she was moving, but Tony stayed behind to help her into the aid station so she could drop. At the aid station I was greeted my more TUFF members, Emily and Tony, not my pacer, but also with an M last name. My pacer Tony introduced himself to other Tony’s kids as “Tony M” to avoid confusion. I sat down a chair and munched on a hamburger. I felt so grateful for the volunteers at the remote aid stations in the middle of the night. They just see the carnage and none of the joy at the finish line and no one really knows they are there except the runners they help.

Tony stuck his phone in front of my face. Princess Anna appeared and demonstrated how to use her wand. My wife got her back on task and asked her to tell me I was doing a great job. The camera panned to my infant son who started to choke on an apple before my wife turned the camera to herself and told me to keep moving. A wave of emotion hit me. This was a lonely endeavor, and I missed my family. I was so happy to see that video in the middle of the woods. I could not believe that Tony went through the trouble reaching out to my wife to have that video ready for me. I found out later that it was intended to be used at mile 40 if I needed motivation to go back out.

With that, I turned on my headlamp and we headed back out. As we left, one of my legs swelled up in an instant and it felt like my shoelace was cutting into the top of my ankle. I had to stop and loosen my laces. Emily mentioned something about how I was crushing her finish time from a few years prior and that was the first realization that I might actually finish this thing. 10 miles to go. One foot in front of the other. It was a simple task.

When we reached Crossroads for the final time, we ran into Kory who was running the 100-miler. He sat by the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Thinking he had dropped and I had caught him while waiting for a ride out, I felt really bad for him. I tried to avoid the topic as we shook hands. I mentioned to Tony as we left that I hated that for Kory and Tony reminded me that he was headed out on his fourth lap. My little ultra-brain was unable to figure out that he was headed out as I was headed in and that I had, in fact, not caught him. Relieved, we pressed on.

My body hurt. Over 20 miles further than I had ever gone before, the last six miles were brutal. My toes began to blister because I was walking funny. I wished for hills because going up was easier than going down. But none of that mattered. I just needed to keep moving and I would finish it. With three miles to go, I ate the last gels I was going to eat for the race and asked Tony how fast he could run a 5k. He told me 18 minutes and I suggested we do that to end the suffering.

I started to see signs that we were getting close: the boardwalk I knew was a marker that we were almost done and he glow of the lights leading to the finish line. As we made our way through the chute, I turned off my lights (so as not to screw up my precious finish line photos) and folded my poles (so as not to poke out someone’s eye).

21 hours 50 minutes and 49 seconds. The first person I saw a was Ryan, the RD. He gave me a hug and put my medal over my head. I barely had time to react before I swarmed by angels. Jen, Stacey, and Rebecca wrapped me in a blanket and led me to the fire pit to get warm. They helped take care of my gear and get me fed. I told Jen that I was not a part of TUFF when I signed up for the race, but I damn sure would not have finished without the group.

In the weeks leading up to the race, I was certain I was going to meet the devil in the dark, lonely hills. Alone, physically and mentally, I was easy prey. Coming off two DNFs, I did not know how I could even fathom finishing the 100k on a course like Uwharrie.

What actually happened was I found a community of angels I did not know I had. Of course, I have my wife. Despite what she says about ultrarunning, she is my biggest supporter. I also put out a plea for a pacer at the last minute that I thought went unheard until I found it to be the opposite. Several people were looking for me and Tony stepped into fill the void and I would not have finished without him. TUFF was there to set me up for success going into my final lap and to try to put the pieces back together when I finished. They were also scattered throughout the course at the various aid stations, running, and pacing. It only took my 100 kilometers to figure what a wonderful community I have.

So maybe this Godforsaken figure eight ain’t so bad after all.

Every October, runners gather at a trailhead just outside of the town of Troy to take on one the most difficult ultramarathons on the East Coast. This year marked the 10^th anniversary of the race deemed “simply unrelenting” due to the unyielding nature of the terrain. The only relief runners get from the rugged single-track is the dirt parking lot at the start/finish line.

Held in the Uwharrie National Forest, the race runs through some of the oldest mountains in North America. Said to have once rivaled the Himalayas, today you will not find any peaks over 1,000 feet in these mountains. Do not be deceived though, you also will not find anything flat; each lap runners earn 3,600 feet of elevation gain. What you will find are rocks and roots; every foot placement must be taken with care, or you risk falling or worse.

The race traces this loop three or five times depending on whether you are running the 100-kilometer or 100-mile distance, and both require runners finish in 36 hours or less. The race begins at the Wood Run Trailhead in the Uwharrie National Forest and follows the Dutchman’s Creek Trail for roughly six miles until it reaches the Crossroads Aid Station. After Crossroads, the race continues on another six miles until reaching Kelly’s Kitchen Aid Station. Before runners reach Kelly’s Kitchen, they must climb “Sasquatch Summit” and “Soul Crusher.” Both climbs are less than 300 feet in elevation gain but begin to take their toll as the day wears on. After Kelly’s, runners must cover the three miles to return to Crossroads before returning to start/finish to do it all again. But before they get there, runners climb “Hallucination Hill” as a final knife in the back from the course.

I first heard about the Uwharrie 100 when looking for something to do over a free weekend. Wanting more experience at a 100 miler, I found an opportunity to volunteer overnight at Kelly’s Kitchen in 2023. With the spooky vibes and the carnage I witnessed, I knew quickly that I wanted to run the race in 2024. As soon as the date was announced, it went on my calendar. I heard that they would give you a 100k finish if you dropped from the 100 miler during the race but never could confirm it1 so I instead opted for the 100k and signed up first thing on New Year’s Day.

2024 passed in the blink of an eye. Uwharrie was supposed to be the headliner of my race calendar, but as I continued to add races and DNFs I began to lose interest and confidence. However, I heard there would be a strong presence of the TUFF Run Club at the race so I decided I would give it a go. With that renewed commitment, I found myself unprepared. I saw my friend Natalia finish PM2HR with a pacer and thought that might be a good idea. The race allows a pacer after your second lap, regardless of distance.

I do not have the biggest local network, but I put out a request on social media anyway. I knew I would be walking… power hiking the third and final lap so I only needed someone that could hike 20 miles in the middle of the night and was not afraid of what we might find out there.

“Do you like long, slow walks through dark woods with a disturbed man? Have you ever considered setting an SKT (Slowest Known Time®) on the Uwharrie loop? Do you enjoy telling a grown man to stop crying and start walking? If any of this applies to you, I'm looking for a pacer for the Uwharrie 100k...” my post read.

Crickets. A few friends reached out saying they were racing or pacing, or they would have helped. I made a few more pleas on social media, but the week before the race I was set to go at it alone.

But the Sunday before Uwharrie, Tony Mendez pulled me aside and said he was interested in pacing. The offer surprised me. Knowing the final lap was going to take at least eight hours, I figured someone as fast as Tony (sub 21-hour finish at the 2024 Umstead 100) would not want to shuffle with me for that long. I almost did not think it was real until my friend Buzby texted me later that day excited that I had found someone. The offers then started rolling in. Craig from Trivium Racing reached out shortly after to ask if I was still looking for someone because he had recruited Priscilla to pace me. I felt honored that so many people were looking out for me.

Race weekend came and I packed my gear and made the two-hour drive to the trailhead. I grabbed a pizza and a slice of cheesecake on my way out of town for my pre-race dinner. I decided to camp at the start/finish line for a couple of reasons, but mostly because I could not figure out how to make a hotel work. If I stayed in a hotel the night before, then on Saturday night, I would be running. If I did not keep the room, I would have nowhere to stay on Sunday morning. If I did keep the room, I would be paying for a room I did not use and would have to be out by 11 am on Sunday anyway. So, I decided to camp. I would be close to the start line and could sleep as long as possible and I would have a place to crash as soon as I finished to rest before the drive home.

With camp set up, I relaxed by my car and chitchatted with folks that I knew as they trickled in to pick up their bibs. We stood around and talked until it was dark and then headed to bed. While playing on my phone, I got a message from Tony asking if he could wear road shoes. Uh. It was a good thing I would only be walking that last lap, or I might be pacing Tony. I nudged him toward his most robust trail shoes and nodded off to sleep.

Morning came quickly. I could feel the energy in the air of the dark trailhead even at 4 am. I stood by the fire and opened a black can of coffee that looked like a Guinness. Ryan, the RD, said it was never too early to crack a cold one. I downed my electrolyte drink and passed the time by getting ready at my car.

Just prior to 6 am, we all gathered around for the pre-race briefing. You could tell how much the race directors, Ryan and Meghaan, care about this race. A few instructions, yellow blazes, white blazes, stay away from blue, and we were off.

A strategy I have employed in every ultra I have run is to walk out of the start. I am going to walk at the end so walking at the start is not going to hurt my time. This tactic stops me from going with the flow of the race, i.e, too fast. I let everyone pass because, even though I walk, I cannot seem to find the back of the pack before the start of the race.

Darkness ruled the first hour of the race. Soon I found myself alone out there, a feeling I would get used to as the day wore on. Nothing of note happened in the first section. I arrived at the Crossroads aid station, had my water bottles filled by the volunteers, and found some breakfast. My nutrition plan was to take advantage of the drop bags at every aid station. I refuse to dig through my running vest to get nutrition, and I will procrastinate until it becomes a problem. To solve this issue, I had drop bags at each aid station. Inside, there were individual packets of my fuel for the section ahead. All I had to do was to stop at my drop bag each time I came through and grab one packet. Idiot proof. And since I have been known to beat idiot proof systems, I carried an extra packet in my vest, just in case.

After Crossroads, we arrived at Sasquatch Summit, a rocky and steep climb. I tend to climb faster than I should, so I stayed behind two fellow competitors to slow myself down. I have found that people do not care for this, but it does not bother me during a race. As we topped out I thought, “this is it?” I was quickly reminded to respect the course.

Just as I was catching my breath, Soul Crusher was there to put me in my place. The rare switchbacks, if you can call them that, on this side of the Mississippi, Soul Crusher reminds you that you have to repeat it two or four more times in order to finish. At the top, I felt that the weather had started to warm up a bit and I reminded myself to stay on top of my hydration. Kelly’s Kitchen came and went and soon enough I was back at Crossroads ready to cover the final six miles to complete my first lap.

The Uwharrie Gold Rush 50K happens on the same day but starts later than the 100 mile and 100k. I wondered if I would get to see any of those racers, but once I finished my first lap, I knew I would not get passed by those in the 50k. I crossed the timing mat right at six hours at the start/finish; exactly on pace for the six-, seven-, and eight-hour laps I was planning. I stripped off my pullover, refilled my fluids, restocked my gels, and had some lunch. Knowing I would probably finish the second lap in the dark, I made sure my headlamp was still on me.

The second lap was in the middle of the day and warm. I picked up a mantra: “just get to Tony.” I played leapfrog with Elizabeth, Kim, and ultra legend Emily Lyons. A mile or two before 50k, I realized I was in position to run my second fasted 50k on Strava. No one has ever accused me of being smart, so I did not pass up that opportunity and beat my previous race and single-track best efforts by about five minutes. Things were going well through my second pass through Kelly’s Kitchen, but that did not last much longer.

As I reached Crossroads for the fourth time, reality began to set in. Darkness drew near, I still had 27 miles to go, and my legs were cooked. I made the mistake of speaking my doubt out loud and was shut down by Wes as fast as it left my month. He told me it was way too early to be talking like that and I needed to slow down. I left the aid station a bit dejected. A mile or so out, I pulled out my trekking poles. I figured they would help take the burden off my legs, and my mind, as least for a little bit.

After Hallucination Hill, I was shuffling along in my misery as the sun set. I hoped to get back to start/finish before I had to dig in my vest for my headlamp, but that was looking more and more like it was not going to happen. It was then that the most graceful runner I have ever seen came flying past me and it took me a minute to register that I had just been lapped by first place in the 100-mile race. I tried not to let it get me down as I headed into the night, prepared to meet the devil on his turf.

Thank you for reading Part One. Part Two can be found here. Don’t forget to subscribe so you will receive an email when it releases. It is free and I will not spam you. Jared, you better subscribe this time.

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The Pilot Mountain to Hanging Rock Ultra is a running race from, well, Pilot Mountain State Park to Hanging Rock State Park in the Piedmont of North Carolina. The route runs along the Mountains-to-Sea Trail for nearly the whole race. The course is mostly singletrack but has some road sections between the parks. Both parks are situated in the Sauratown Mountains, north of Winston-Salem. The 2024 edition was the 10^th running of the 50k and 50-mile race.

What the race’s name lacks in imagination, it makes up for in views. From the top of Pilot Mountain early in the race, you can see all along the course to Moore’s Knob in Hanging Rock State Park. I ran the 2023 50k as my first ultra and was back to see the rest of the course and maybe get a little redemption from my DNF at Philmont the month before. The icing on the cake was that my friend, Cyndi, gave me an entry on behalf of LOWA Boots.

“All Roads Closed in Western NC, Do Not Travel in Western NC” read the signs on Interstate 40. “That’s a bit dramatic. All the roads in Western NC are closed? No one can go anywhere?” I thought to myself as I sped down the highway the day before the race. Having just driven through a band of Hurricane Helene an hour before, I had a hard time believing those signs were necessary1. Luckily (or unluckily), my destination of Danbury, NC was accessible, and it was turning out to be a beautiful day as the sun started to break through the clouds.

The race held a virtual meeting the night before I left. They indicated that the storm had taken its toll on the course, and it was still raining heavily even as they held the meeting. The race staff, however, communicated that they were confident the race would be held as planned, but they would reassess in the morning when the rain subsided.

I arrived at my rental house in the afternoon. The sun vaporized every drop of rain from the hurricane, turning it into humidity just in time to unload the car. I figured this was going to be a problem the next day. I picked up my packet and prepared my gear for the next day. About 7 pm, we received an email from the race director with an offer to drop down to the 50k distance. I thought about it until after the deadline, deciding that I needed to stick with the distance I signed up for, conditions be damned.

It was pitch black and chaotic when we pulled into the trailhead parking lot just after 5:30 am. The only light came from the red glow of the tail lights. My wife and I tried to park in one spot and got yelled at to move. Then tried something else and got yelled at again. I finally told my wife to just leave because it seemed we could not do anything right.

The runners milled around a bit before the pre-race meeting. The RD, Rich, told us the state of the course and how his team had worked tirelessly over the last 48 hours to ensure we would have a race. He said that it all came together in the last 24 hours. He warned us that the course was still muddy and there were a lot of trees down, especially on the first half of the course. I accepted my fate as we started filing to toward the start line.

The first section was six miles of smooth and relatively flat single track that took us to the first aid station (and the start of the 50k race). I knew I wanted to get there before they started since it would be a huge mess if I did not. I settled into a good pace but kept hitting blowdown after blowdown. And where there was not a blowdown, there was mud. So much mud. I had to crawl over and under and through tree after tree. Despite all of this, I kept moving at a good pace and hit the aid station with about ten minutes to spare before the 50k gun.

We headed up Pilot Mountain. The trees were not nearly as bad but where there were, they were nearly impossible to get around. On a wide, almost dirt road section that I would have run in normal conditions, I had to tiptoe through because the leaves concealed the rocks and roots. My first sign of trouble came during the big climb up to the top of Pilot Mountain. I struggled and nearly everyone behind me ended up passing. I did not understand where my legs had gone. I was only 12 miles into the race and I could hardly move. Feeling defeated, I finally rounded Big Pinnacle at the top and made my way to the aid station.

Coming down the mountain did me no favors either. More trees. More mud. No time recovered. As I approached the road out of the park, I knew there was not a chance in hell I would make the first cutoff if things did not improve. Luckily, this next section was mostly road, and I would be able to make up a little time. I caught a second wind, ticking off a few faster miles and gaining back some of the time I lost. Things were looking up.

There did not appear to be a way through. The deadfall sucked you in with the trail terminating in the heart of it. Turning around, my shirt got caught, as if it did not want me to leave. “Dammit!” I muttered, growing frustrated that I was losing all the progress I had made in the last few miles. I could not even see a social trail that had been the norm throughout the day to get around the blowdowns. Another runner popped up and mentioned that he would stick with me through this section since he was lost. This only frustrated me more because now I felt responsible for this guy, and I could barely take care of myself. He proved to be no help navigating through the mess and I was quickly rid of him.

Eventually, I found a route around the deadfall only to come up on a new one every few hundred feet. My phone buzzed and my wife let me know that she was going to be at the next aid station with our children and that gave me a little bit of motivation to keep moving. Seeing their faces boosted my spirits but my daughter refused to get out of her chair for a photo because she was “busy eating strawberries.”

In the shadow of Sauratown Mountain, the mile-22 aid station greeted me with snacks and water. I knew my situation was dire as I only had 30 minutes to cover three miles that traversed the side the of the mountain. I joked with the aid station volunteer that it was a good thing that one of my strengths was 15-minute 5ks through the mountains. Despite the knowledge of the impending cutoff, I gave it hell.

I ran when I could, but mostly hiked up the side of Sauratown Mountain. The woods were well maintained and felt like there was a lot of open space as the trail switchbacked up. Just over the top, I passed a couple of guys that had mailed it in. They encouraged me but I could not tell if they were being genuine or not. As I came down the mountain, I crossed a few creeks and experienced a new sensation. My feet slid all the way to the front of my shoes as I ran down hill with the soaking wet shoes and I had to revert to a walk… I mean power hike.

With just under a mile to go, the cutoff came and went. I decided to keep moving to preserve my pride. I finally emerged on to the dirt road that led to the aid station, excited to see my friends Cyndi and Cameron and hoping one of them would drive me to the finish line. Unfortunately, I was greeted with the news that the race had extended the cutoff by 20 minutes and I would have to continue. Cameron filled my water bottles as I restocked my nutrition from my drop bag. As I got up to leave, I heard “do you have a podcast?” and I finally got to meet Craig, who works for Trivium. He told me that he recognized my voice and we introduced ourselves before I headed up the road.

Having made the cutoff, I gained some new life as I left the aid station. The next section was a gradual grade up a gravel road, my favorite terrain. Excited to make up time, I pushed this section, but the sun had decided to make an appearance and I quickly overheated. This is when I realized I left one of my hydration flasks at the aid station. I kept an extra flask in my vest in case one burst but that would do me little good until I was somewhere I could fill it. The cruel irony was that Helene had dumped so much water on the course that the creeks were overflowing and this section had to be rerouted to the asphalt and away from the creeks and I could only breathe in the humidity for hydration.

The asphalt hammered the final nail in the coffin. Priscilla, another Trivium RD, drove up beside me and said I looked good, but I knew she was lying. Hot and dehydrated, I rolled in to the mile-29 aid station having already decided I was done, but knowing I still needed to cover four more miles to get to a convenient drop point. As I death marched in, a woman yelled at me, telling me to eat something. I did. And reluctantly left. A volunteer followed me out so he could begin picking up the course markings. He told me he was going to follow me out and I asked him if that was a threat.

The last four or so miles were a mix of sloppy single track and asphalt, most of which were uphill. It was one foot in front of the other until I finally reached the best view on the course as I approached Hanging Rock State Park. Behind me, I could see everything I had covered throughout the day: Pilot and Sauratown Mountains. A reminder of how far I had come. To my left, the field gently sloped away revealing the mountains on the horizon in Virginia. In front of me loomed Moore’s Wall and a reminder of how far I still had to go.

I stumbled into the aid station at the Tory’s Den parking lot at mile 34 with 15 minutes to spare before the cutoff. I hoped someone would pull me but that never came. I may have made the cutoff but to make the next one, I would need to cover 10 miles across the most difficult part of the course in just over two hours. I needed to cover that distance at about 13 minutes per mile through some very technical single track with about 1500 feet of gain, but I had been moving at about 20 minutes per mile on asphalt. With that information, I pulled myself from the race. I decided not to be a liability to the race knowing I was not going to finish anyway.

Already on her way to meet me, my wife had pizza in the car which taunted me the whole drive to the rental. We ate and I got cleaned up and drove to the finish line to get my drop bag. The timing worked out as I arrived just in time to see my friend Natalia finish her first 50 miler. Seeing her and others finish filled me with regret, but that always happens with a shower and some rest. You forget the pain and the condition you were in just a few hours earlier and wonder why you quit.

When I volunteered at Aid Station 2 in 2023, I could not help but picture myself running Umstead as my first 100 miler in a couple of years. In 2024, when I saw my friend Jen blow through Aid Station 2 for the final time on her way to her first 100-mile finish, I knew I would be toeing the line in 2025. Feeling excited was easy then. But a little more than six weeks out, it is easier to feel scared.

Have I done enough? Who knows, I have never run this far before. When it comes up organically, I will mention that I finished the Uwharrie 100K in October (I am also happy to force it into conversation or write about it on the internet). People will respond that Umstead will be a cake walk if I was able to finish Uwharrie. That was four months ago. I have managed to make all my long runs, except a week ago when I came up sick. I muddle through most of my weekday miles without much issue and I still have a 50-mile run and a marathon between now and the big day. Hopefully it will be enough.

A few weeks ago, I noticed someone giving away a marathon entry on Facebook. She cited a couple of injuries. I looked them up. They sounded a lot like what I have been running through all winter. My patellar tendon flairs up about 10 miles into a run and makes me think I need to quit the sport all together before it calms down and goes away five minutes later. Backing off this last week has seemed to help that pain, along with some other issues I have been having with my lower leg that I was worried could be a stress fracture.

I picked this race for a reason. It is my backyard. Well, 40 minutes away. I get to train on the course every single weekend. I am lucky. But bored. Back and forth. Over and over. Until I die. Like a horizontal Sisyphus. I start at one parking lot and run the entire length of the course to the other parking lot and back again. Week after week. If (when) I finish this thing, I may get a tattoo of myself rolling a boulder up a slight incline with someone telling me, “it gets better.”

I worry I will not be able to get my diet under control in time. Some folks have drugs. Some have alcohol. I have food. Unfortunately, there is no War on Food so I stand alone in my struggle. If anyone needs an example of “you cannot outwork a bad diet,” feel free to pull up my Instagram.

Despite all of this, I want that buckle. I do not want to have to go back again next year. But I worry I have not done enough. That I will get bored and sabotage myself between now and race day. That I will show up on race day too fat. I ran 24 miles this weekend. I got it done. I felt good at the end. But I can barely picture myself adding three more of those onto the end and still not being done. In addition to my running, my writing has also introduced doubt. My last three race posts (one still to be released) have all been about my recent DNFs. It is hard not to let those thoughts creep into my head when thinking about Umstead.

There’s a lot of doubt heading into my peak weeks, but I do have one more ace in the hole. People. I did not finish Uwharrie. I took every step, but I did not finish it. We finished. It will be the same at Umstead. My wife will be at home with the kids, like every weekend, while I am out running back and forth. Jen will be my crew chief and I will lean heavily on her experience. Buzby, who has run several training runs with me for this race, will pace my fifth lap. Barry, my best friend and reason I do this stupid stuff, will carry me through the night for laps six and seven. And Tony is lined up for a repeat performance as my pacer on the final lap. I do not think I could have put together a better team.

So maybe I am not that scared.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate all of the positive feedback I have received since launching this late last year. If you enjoy my writing, please subscribe and you will get an email on Tuesday with my latest release.

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“Blow the trumpet, sound the horn, daddy’s princess has been born.”1

As I have gotten older, my perception of how quickly time passes has changed in a stepwise manner. One major shift for me was when I was riding a bike for long periods of time in my mid-twenties. I think my brain changed to get through the monotony of riding and that reached into my everyday life. I noticed getting through the workday went by a lot quicker, but so did the weekend. Now in my mid-thirties, nothing changed the paradigm more than having a baby.

As I am writing this, my sweet princess is in her last few hours as a two-year-old. It really does seem like just yesterday I was in the hospital trying to be strong for my wife but while also terrified inside. It all happened so fast. One minute I was being woken up to go to the hospital and less than an hour later, my mother-in-law was handing me my little girl. Being a father was not real to me until that moment. My wife had been growing our daughter for nine months and knew she was in there. To me, my daughter was still abstract up until that point. I had no attachment and then suddenly, it was a love like I had never felt before. Since that moment, I have learned that you cannot understand how much your parents love you until you have children of your own.

While reflecting on how quickly these last three years have gone, I am reminded of a book my daughter used to make me read so frequently that I had it memorized. My mom gave us “Always Daddy’s Princess” by Karen Kingsbury and told me it would make me cry, so of course my daughter wanted to read it right away.

“Eyes so bright and laughter fair, he buys a pink bow for her hair. He loves her more than words can say, his princess, born this happy day.”

The book goes through the major milestones of a little girl’s life from her father’s point of view. It hurt reading it for the first time. Until then, it felt like I had the rest of time with my sweet little girl. Time would stay frozen in that stage of life forever. I never considered that one day I would have to deal with her leaving home.

“Middle school, she’s thirteen now, friends and clothes and dad learns how to sit through all her fashion shows with crazy jeans and painted toes. All giggles, braces, ‘Daddy, please!’ his princess girl with knobby knees.”

Now I’m faced with the fact that soon she will be going to school and I will have to worry about her being away all day. Just yesterday, I was sitting in the waiting room, holding her, barely an hour old while my wife was in surgery after giving birth. I even considered the possibility that something might go wrong and I would have to raise this little girl on my own. This was not helped by the fact that my wife made me watch Kevin Hart’s “Fatherhood” a few weeks earlier, in which the mom dies and Kevin Hart has to raise his daughter on his own.

“A pretty ring, her wedding day, her dad knows his girl cannot stay. He walks her proudly down the aisle then steps aside, a wink, a smile. He gives a toast - lifelong romance! Then asks his princess for a dance.”

In preparation for her birthday, I told my daughter that the day she was born was the best day of my life. And she looked back at me and said it was the best day of her life too. For me, it was true. No single moment has changed me as much as that day. I finally had something to live for. Sure, I have people that love me and would miss me if I was gone, but I had to stay alive for this girl. I have to be healthy and strong so I can be around for her when she is older and walk her down the aisle.

“Blow the trumpet, sound the horn, grandpa’s princess has been born.”

I hope one day she will get to love someone like I love her. I hope she will make a living doing what she loves instead of trying to make someone else rich. I hope “god dammit” will stop being her favorite phase. And I also hope she loves the Lord. I hope she never stops being feral. I hope I will always have the opportunity to add a few extra minutes to the timer so I can spend just a little bit longer with her.

“Eyes so bright and laughter fair. He buys a pink bow for her hair. His heart, all joy and happiness, two princess girls, a life so blessed.”

And most of all, I hope time stops moving so damn fast.

The tract currently has about 8 miles of singletrack trail that is used by runners, hikers, mountain bikers, and whoever else might use a trail. The park is also centrally located in the Triangle, near Umstead State Park, Interstate 40, and greenway trails.

At the time of this writing, RDUAA has scrubbed all information from their website regarding the public notice, so I am going off memory. RDUAA said they are obligated by the FAA to receive fair market value for their assets, i.e. they cannot rent the tract to Wake County for $1 per year as they have been doing. Wake County has also indicated to the RDUAA that they cannot afford to pay fair market value to continue to lease the land.

During the meeting, board member Ellis Hankins shared his vision of the development of the land. He said he envisioned something that would create more trails and connect them to trails that are also on airport property across the interstate. There would also be facilities that tie in the landscape adjacent to the lake that would generate non-aeronautical revenue.

I don’t believe the board will end up sticking with that plan and it will go to the highest bidder to put a strip mall on the space. I think many of the other attendees also have that sentiment. About 200 people showed up to make comments or show support for those who were making comments. There was a line out the door and the people I was with were the last one’s allowed through the door at the start of the meeting.

Hankins said there were enough people signed up for comments to fill five to six hours worth of time if everyone used their full allotted time. Those speaking on behalf of groups were given 10 minutes and individuals were given three minutes. While I was there, speakers on behalf of many groups gave statements on their opposition to development and how these trails were a net benefit to the public in their current state.

My friend, Jen Shetler, gave a statement on behalf of the TUFF Run Club, which she founded and I am apart of. She spoke for several minutes and gave suggestions on how RDUAA could generate revenue if they were absolutely required to do something with the land. She ended her statement with an emotional, original poem she wrote on the subject. Below is an excerpt from that poem.

But now a threat, misguided and grand,

Seeks to profit from this cherished land.

Ignoring the purpose long agreed,

For nature’s peace, not corporate greed.

Your plan to clear, build, and pave,

Will change the park that people crave.

Our forest and trees left to rot,

For restaurants, shops, and a parking lot.

I have used these trails in the past but have not been on them in a few years. However, I do not like the precedent this would set for the land adjacent to the airport and Umstead State Park. I have never gotten involved in something to the point where I was willing to go to a meeting. I damn sure have not cared enough about something to prepare a statement, practice it, and be prepared to get up and deliver it in front of a room full of people.

I did not sign up in advance as I decided to read the room prior to giving my statement. When I heard there was five to six hours of comments, I folded up my statement and put it in my pocket. From the speeches I did hear, my point was shared much more eloquently than I could have.

And even though I did not do anything but show up, you can read the statement I prepared below:

Thank you for the opportunity to speak this evening.

I woke up this morning thankful for progress. Thankful for concrete. Thankful for parking spots. Thankful for strip malls.

This world needs more inside and less outside. More fluorescent lighting and less sunshine. More artificial and less natural.

I envision a world where my kids never have to touch dirt again. I want to thank this board for this proposal that will help usher us into that future.

Personally, I’m glad you want to replace the trees and the trails that line this lake with soulless corporate architecture. These people here standing against this proposal should get back to their cubicles so that they can maximize shareholder value. There’s nothing like feeling that blue light from a monitor warming your face in the morning. It certainly feels better than sunshine.

I’ve been saying it for years. We could use a strip mall in this spot. A UPS Store would go great in this spot. We need another Jimmy John’s. What about a Crumbl Cookie? Yum.

The proposal says it will be an “entertainment district.” If there is one entity I trust to bring that to fruition, it is the Airport Authority. We could all use uncomfortable seating, outlets that don’t charge your phone, and food that costs triple what it should.

I say all of this facetiously1, of course.

This authority should not move forward with leveling of the land that so many love.

When this moves to a vote I hope you will be reminded of your mission statement: “to deliver excellent airport services, facilities and unparalleled customer service.” Nothing says “airport” like “non-aeronautical revenue.” I fail to comprehend how destroying a park for “non-aeronautical revenue” aligns with that mission.

This airport already has enough impact on this land and its surroundings. We do not need more.

Thank you.

While we are on the subject of Helene, HAROC would not have happened without it. Traditionally, the South Mountains Marathons are put on by Tanawha Adventures during the second weekend of January. The hurricane completely decimated the state park and it is currently closed until later in 2025. Brandon Thrower, the race director, pivoted and created the HAROC 50K and Half Marathon, to be held on the same weekend at Hanging Rock State Park as a replacement event.

When I first heard the announcement, I was filled with both excitement and disappointment. Besides Umstead State Park in Raleigh, Hanging Rock is where I have spent most of my time training because the 2023 PM2HR 50K was my first ultra and I was very concerned about the climb up Tory’s Den Trail at the time. When I signed up for the 50 miler in 2024, I also spent more time running in the park because the hardest part of the race is the Hanging Rock section due to it being at the end of the race and the technicality of the trails within the park. Hanging Rock being such an important place to me, I was very excited for a race that was completely contained within the park.

The disappointment came from the timing of the race. My training plan for the Umstead 100 had me running a 50k distance two weeks after the announced date. With the terrain being very different than the Umstead 100, I decided it would not be in the cards this year. However, the week of the race, a snowstorm hit and resulted in a park closure and postponement of the race to the exact date I needed a 50k. Tony from the TUFF Run Club (he also helped me at aid stations at a couple of races in the last half year) offered me his entry for free since he could no longer make the race. The race is not ideal training for the Umstead 100, but I decided to accept Tony’s offer and throw it on the calendar. I had originally been signed up for the Willis River 50K Fat Ass race in Virginia that weekend and since it was a free race, I had no problem withdrawing.

It was definitely the bib number. I could not believe my bad luck. It was not the fact that I am a big ole boy and technical running and tight cutoffs are not my strength. It could not have been the fact that I have been training for the Umstead 100 exclusively on the smooth gravel roads of Umstead State Park. It was most certainly not because I have been eating everything I can get my hands on since I finished Uwharrie 100K in October. Just that damned bib number. 127.

Race morning was cold. It’s January. It started from the Lake parking lot within the park. Since the race had been rescheduled, there were not many people starting. The banjo went off (not a typo) and we headed out of the parking lot and to the trails. I hung out at the back as always and ended up running with a few folks from TUFF, Mary, Ruth, and Alex.

We made our way around the frozen lake and up the Moore’s Wall Loop Trail, which is a gentle, but moderately rocky climb up to where it meets the Tory’s Den Trail. This started our descent down the north side of the mountain, also known as “Tory’s Terrible Trench,” for how technical it is. It is not a fast descent. Eventually, it meets up with the Ruben Mountain Trail, a smooth three-mile section that is runnable in both directions. The whole time you are on the trail, Moore’s Knob, the highest point in the park, is teasing you to the east. During the warmer months, aside from the top of several peaks, you cannot see much in the park due to the dense foliage. We were fortunate to have the race at a time of year with the leaves down and have the opportunity for expanded views.

Ruben Mountain Trail rejoins Tory’s Den Trail and takes you to the parking area where our first aid station was located. I had an icicle forming on my hat and a few volunteers made me lose valuable time so they could snap a quick photo. Then we headed back up the way we came down. Two of the bridges were completely covered in ice from the snowstorm two weeks ago. On the way up, I lost some more valuable time having to drop the kids off in the woods. The toughest part of the climb going back up is the Tory’s Terrible Trench section, just before the trail rejoins with the Moore’s Wall Loop Trail. Once there, we hung a left and headed straight up the most technical section of the course to the top of Moore’s Knob. I pulled out my European Cheater Sticks (trekking poles) at this point. It is a relatively short climb, but it is straight up and requires navigating through rocks the entire climb.

It tops out at the watch tower on the summit, and we were required to go to the top of the tower and punch our bibs to prove we were there. From the top you can see the entire Sauratown range, which includes the range’s namesake and Pilot Mountain. You can also see the mountains in Virginia to the north. We climbed down the tower and continued on the trail and down a long, rock staircase. This was difficult for me to navigate but I imagine lighter and more nimble runners fly down this section. It eventually led to the second aid station which was back at the start/finish line.

This was the start of my troubles. We headed up to the Cook’s Wall Trail. Four miles of rocks along a ridge that requires thinking about the foot placement of every step. I had stayed on top of calories and hydration to this point, but my pace slowed to a crawl. Had the trail been smoother, I think I would have been able to continue on pace to finish. I started doing some “ultramath” and realized I was not going to make the next cut off if I continued at the current pace, but I was unable to move any faster through the ice and rocks.

Knowing the trails, the thought occurred to me to go ahead and cut it short, head back to the start/finish area, and call it a day. A few things kept me moving. First, I had received this entry for free from Tony and quitting on my own, while uninjured, was not going to be something I was going to want to own up to. Second, I reminded myself that I want to consider myself a mountain runner. It would be hard to call myself that if I could not handle a few 2ers. Third was that cutoffs are not always absolute. At PM2HR, I missed a cutoff at the halfway point, but they had given us an extra 20 minutes and I was forced to continue. If I quit early and cut the course to do so, I would not even have that possibly of an extended cutoff. So, I kept moving.

Eventually I reached the Hanging Rock Trail. This was the only part of the course that I had not run on before. The trail was essentially a gravel road with a gentle slope up to the peak. It was new and plush. I encountered quite a few day hikers due to the ease of the trail. I had never seen that many visitors in the park at once since I mostly hung around the more technical trails. The top gave way to views of the surrounding area, including the peaks we had been to earlier in the day. Once at the top, Mary told me we were not going to make the cutoff, which I had already known but did not want to say out loud.

I descended hoping someone would tell me to head back to the start/finish line instead of the next aid station. That never materialized and I decided to go to the next aid station to make them cut me off. I had been overserved anyway. It was only going to be an extra half mile to the start/finish area in the Lake parking lot so I figured it was better to let that aid station mark me off so they did not send out a search and rescue party for me while I was driving back home.

It was too cold. There was too much ice on the trails. The trails were too rocky. The aid stations were too far apart. There was not any cheese in the quesadillas. I could go on and on with reasons why I did not finish. Not finishing does not feel great, but I was proud of myself for making the race cut me off and hitting all the high points of the course despite knowing I was going to get cutoff. I kept my mouth shut and did not complain once about my condition or situation. Overall, I was satisfied of the effort. My 100-mile training plan called for a 50K and if I had done it on the Umstead 100 race course, I would have been done in a similar time I spent moving at HAROC. I won’t consider the day a full success, but I left uninjured and more experienced so I will take a few wins.

The race is held at the Philmont Scout Ranch in Cimarron, New Mexico during the first weekend of August. The ranch, which is owned and operated by the Boy Scouts of America, situated in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, is home to 140,000 acres of pristine wilderness. The high plains of eastern New Mexico end where the ranch begins, with the mountains seemingly rising out of nothing as you approach it from the east.

My pal Jared asked Barry (my other pal) and I for adventure in New Mexico. With Barry being somewhat local and I having grown up in New Mexico and Texas, we figured it would be a good place to meet. I hit up the Ultra Running Magazine website and entered my criteria into the search. There are surprisingly few ultras in New Mexico, but one race fit the bill. It had an 8-mile, 18-mile, marathon, and 50-miler all within a two-hour drive of my parents’ cabin. Philmont, here we come.

Barry and I were immediately in. Jared, whose idea it was (and who also does not subscribe to this Substack, even though he said he would, so I can say whatever I want about him) seemed intimidated by the idea of a high-country adventure and declined to participate despite repeated harassment from his buddies. I settled on the 50-mile option since I had no experience with the distance and I figured that my maiden voyage should be through the mountains and at altitude. This was especially important to me since I live and train below 500 feet.

A couple of months removed from Ridge to Rails, the race had finally arrived. I made my way out west and up into Santa Fe National Forest for a few days. Barry met me and we managed to get a few miles in (off trail, of course) and spend a little time in Santa Fe. On Friday, we packed up and headed north for Cimarron. We did a little sightseeing in Las Vegas (the New Mexico edition) and Wagon Mound, where a branch of my family has been for hundreds of years.

The rain seemed to be focused on the compound directly east of us. From the road, Barry in the driver seat and me in the passenger seat, we could see for miles across the prairie that ended where the mountains began. At the base of the mountains, we would see what we assumed was Philmont Scout Ranch and our destination. The rain hammered the ranch and nothing else. The surrounding areas may as well have had their own weather forecast. As we got closer and closer to the ranch, it seemed like the rain was never going to relent. Our drive came to an end as we pulled in and we were immediately struck with the spirit of the ranch. There were numerous buildings, tents, and deer with the biggest racks I had ever seen (you know what I mean), with the Tooth of Time watching over us. It was easy to get lost in a place so big and that’s exactly what happened.

We finally found our way to packet pick up where we got our bibs, and I got my drop bags. We were also assigned our canvas tent that we would be sharing for the night. The race was kind enough to provide accommodations for the participates since there were limited options in neighboring Cimarron. The tents went on for miles it seemed, row after row. The tents were typically used by inbound and outbound backpackers as a base of operations before starting or after finishing their adventure. The racers were grouped by distance, except Barry who had requested to stay with me, so he did not end up sharing with some weirdo.

We moved our provisions to the tent, which was quite a feat, seeing how this camp is designed for people carrying everything on their backs and there was no way for us to drive up to the tent. We began preparing for the next day and chitchatting with our fellow racers. A common theme amongst the racers we met were that they had all been here before as scouts and this was their only opportunity to experience the trails again. We learned that they almost spoke their own language. Barry and I soon realized we had stumbled into a cult of sorts.

I was relieved as the bus came to a stop, surprised we made it safely. Now fully aware I was an interloper that had infiltrated the cabal. I had my suspicions the night before but that was confirmed with the chanting on the bus ride to the start. As an ultrarunner, I thought I was in an exclusive club, but now I was watching a group of people that had bonded over this piece of land come alive. They may not have known each other before this race, but most of them were connected through this fellowship that was Philmont. It was fun to watch.

Everyone stood and slowly filed off the bus and in an orderly fashion. I had been hydrating in anticipation of a hot, alpine day and needed to relieve myself pretty bad after that bus ride from Hell. It felt weird pissing on this seemingly holy ground. I shook it off and made it to the back of the pack just in time for the horn to go off, signaling the start of the longest distance I had ever attempted.

We all filed up a gentle climb up a dirt road to the first camp, about two miles from the start, which had our first and most pointless aid station. It was so unnecessary that they were not even set up when we got there a little after 5 a.m. From there, we started some more aggressive climbing up to the top of the canyon on single track. At this point, I was solidly in last place but moving well. I had 18 hours to complete this race so moving forward was the only plan I had. We continued the traverse along the side of the canyon for about eight miles. This was more or less flat, but I could tell my legs were starting to fatigue a bit.

I kept pressing forward. I had enough electrolyte drink at the start of the race to cover me for 10 miles because the first aid station was only two miles in and the second was 10 miles in. Unfortunately, I was not wanting to drink any of it. I later learned that this is common at altitude. I finally arrived at Fish Camp, the second aid station after climbing about 2,000 feet since the start. I did not even need to fill my bottles because I had not consumed hardly any of it on the way there. I lubed up my nether regions before pressing forward. I was sweating a lot more than I had expected to and was not drying off as quickly as I had anticipated, which was causing some additional chaffing.

After leaving the aid station, I entered a 4-mile section through a picturesque mountain valley, complete with a stream and wildflowers. While beautiful, I had not felt this isolated in quite a long time. This section was a gentle climb that I thought I was going to make up some time on, but things began to take a turn for the worst. My legs started to get really stiff and my leg muscles felt powerless. I had put in the work for this race. I ran in the mountains and heat every chance I got. I was prepared. I knew every inch of the route. But suddenly it seemed, I could barely move.

Once the legs went, so did the mind and I could not get it back. I trudged forward through the valley until I hit some switchbacks that would take me up to the next aid station. My pace continued to fall off a cliff and I had no answers as to why in the moment. I was not even a third of the way into the race and I had no energy, how could I keep going for 37 more miles? I finally reached the 13-mile aid station and noticed it was manned with 20-year-old Philmont Rangers. I gave my pain a voice and told them that I was not feeling great, but they encouraged me to keep moving because the next section was relatively flat. I refilled my bottles, still not finished with the electrolyte drink in my bladder that I started with.

The section was flat…ish but I was falling apart both mentally and physically. It was the highest point of the course so far and the altitude was really taking its toll on me. The only upside was that as I neared 10,000 feet of elevation, I was able to see some peaks off in the distance. It was during this section I resolved to call it a day. I was not feeling good. I could not drink enough. My legs were shells of their former selves. I also started doing some “ultra math” and figured at this pace, I would get cut off at the next aid station if I continued at my current pace. And even if I did make it through the next aid station, I would be caught in a thunderstorm while at the top of Mt. Phillips. All these reasons made perfect sense to me to go ahead and quit once I reached the aid station at 17 miles1. As I approached, I saw a Suburban and my ticket out of there and to a nice meal once I got back.

We bumped along the gravel road cut into the side of the mountain. The ruts caused me to damn near fly out of my seat as we moved through them at 10 miles per hour. Through the trees to the right, you could see the ridge line across the canyon, and you could not help but look down and wish there was a little more shoulder between the SUV and the sheer drop to the bottom. The white Philmont Suburban was piloted by a kid that could not have been more than 22. I sat in the middle row hoping to keep what little I had in my stomach down, while also enjoying the view that none of my competitors had.

When I told the aid station worker I was going to drop, they told me they had to stay until it closed and then we would pack up, drive 45 minutes to the next aid station to extract those volunteers and then it would be a two-hour drive back to base. It was then that I began to comprehend just how isolated we were out there. The next aid station was about six trail miles from where I dropped. It marked the start of the final push up to the top of Mt. Phillips. When we arrived, most of the runners had already come through, but we were still waiting on a few.

The sky had grown dark, and the rain clouds had moved in. I could not help but wonder how scary it was at the summit of the 11,742-foot peak with the thunderstorm starting to unleash its fury. We hung around the camp waiting for the official cutoff so we could begin the drive back to base. I got to watch as the scouts that were camping raced to set up their shelters before the rain started. One runner that had been at the aid station where I dropped when I came in left this aid station and within a few minutes was back having decided that he was not going to be on that summit during the storm. We only had one more runner to account for. We waited. And waited. The race staff did not have any record of him coming through the aid station. After the cutoff, the staff got on the radio with base and discovered no one had any record of him arriving at a later aid station.

Within minutes, two young adult males dressed in historical costumes were changed into hiking clothes. They donned packs and radios, and they were off to backtrack to the last known location of the runner. Over what seemed like hours, we waited for any word on the missing runner. We could not return to base until the runner was found in case we needed to evacuate the runner. I counted up the seats in the vehicle and knew someone would get booted if we took on anyone else. While we waited, I got to know some of the volunteers that would be riding back with us. They confirmed many of my suspicions about this being an outdoor sect.

I heard words like “Phil-marriage,” or a marriage between two rangers that had met when they worked at the ranch. Most of the volunteers were former rangers and this was the only way for them to get back out onto the ranch. Most did not have any connection to running or ultrarunning. They just wanted to be near the ranch again, if only for a few hours. They all reminisced and gossiped about the ranch and the leadership and the Boy Scouts of America. None of these people were here at the same time when they were rangers but they were all deeply connected to the land we stood on and that in turn connected them to their fellow, former rangers. I was just there because it looked like a fun race through a property I always heard about, and the logistics were easy enough with my family cabin nearby. I almost felt bad about being there. $200 and a little bit of fitness granted me access to one of the most stunning tracts of land I had ever seen.

We finally got word that the runner came through the aid station hours ago and the volunteers and staff had missed him. I thought this was weird that a bunch of 18 to 22-year-olds, dressed in costumes and put in charge of handing out quesadillas in the middle of the woods had missed a runner, but I guess anything is possible. My legs had stiffened at this point and I was hobbling around but regretting my decision to drop. Had I known it would have taken six hours to exfil, I probably would have just kept moving and taken my chances with the lightning. But I couldn’t reverse that decision now.

We all piled into the Suburban. All eight of us. We started retracing our steps back to the aid station where I quit. My thoughts went to Barry, wondering how long he had been finished with his marathon and if he was enjoying some pizza. The ride would take the better part of two hours, and I just had to sit there and make the most of it. Fortunately, that was not hard. We drove through the heart of the ranch. The scenery was so breathtaking that I was actually glad I quit when I did. I got to go on a vehicle tour of the ranch that no one else was privy to. Had I been cut off later, we would have been making a similar drive, but in the dark. I did not mind that I had nothing to add to the conversation because all I had to do was look out the window and I was instantly taken back 100 years.

We finally popped out of the valley and I could see the Tooth of Time towering over the Philmont base camp. It was still a 30-minute drive but now the views of the mountains were wide open. I knew the runners would be running past the Tooth of Time before descending back to camp and the finish line and I wondered what that would have felt like. I received word that the race director wanted to see the two dropped runners when we got back. Once out of the car, my soreness and my chaffing where made very apparent and I was pissed that I now had to walk across the entire complex so the RD could look at my sorry self. In the end, it worked out because Barry was only a few minutes from crossing the finish line and I was able to video him. He had a similarly rough day but was able to push through and get his medal (Weather Permitting Podcast Recap).

We quickly threw our stuff in his truck. “Quickly” was relative at this point. We had a 500-yard walk and neither of us were in any condition to be carrying all our stuff over this distance. Since I had six more hours of recovery, it made the job a little easier. At one point, we left some items in the middle of the parking lot and picked them up when we drove by them on the way out. We hopped in the truck and made a beeline directly for Blake’s Lotaburger in Las Vegas for some hard earned green chile cheeseburgers.

Throughout my adult life, I have jumped from hobby to hobby. Many only lasting days or weeks. I obsess over each new hobby. I absorb all the information I can find. I find all the best accounts to follow on social media. I research the best gear. After a while, my wife and I noticed a pattern.

As soon as I bought all the equipment, my zeal for the hobby fell off a cliff. All I needed was that hit of dopamine. I bought a triathlon bike that never saw a triathlon. A whitewater kayak that has never seen a whitewater river. I have a stand-up paddle board that I used once. Things did not go well and now it lives in the garage, the graveyard of John’s hobbies. This happened with nearly all my hobbies. Shell out the cash. Unwrap all the new goodies. Move to the next hobby.

After identifying this trait, I have been better at managing it and limited the initial investment until I know I will stick with it for longer than a weekend. I have also grown more patient and accept being bad at something for a little bit.

For your enjoyment, I have included a noncomprehensive list of former, current, and future hobbies of mine.

The list goes on forever and the hobbies will probably end.

Former Hobbies

Whitewater Kayaking

My wife and I took a trip to the Buffalo National River in March 2020. We (I) decided it would be a good idea to rent two kayaks and paddle the river at near flood levels. Too proud for a sit-on-top kayak, I chose a sit-in. I got dumped three times in the first two miles of the trip and decided to bail at the first chance we got. RIP expensive sunglasses.

This was not my first mishap on the river and decided I needed to take some lessons. My wife and I made a deal that if I lost weight, I would get to take whitewater kayaking classes at the Whitewater Center in Charlotte. I took the level one class and a few private lessons and decided it was time to invest in my own boat. I tried a few out and decided on the Pyranha Machno. The only problem was that it was 2020 and no one had any in-stock. I found one the Nantahala Outdoor Center in Bryson City, NC and bought it online. Did I have a way to transport it home? Nope. I shoved it in the back of our Ford Explorer and laid the front seat down and made it work

I took that boat to the level 2 course and took it out on flat water a few times before we moved to North Carolina (and further away from Charlotte) and had a baby. The boat still takes up a corner in our garage.

Triathlon

Triathlon was a dream of mine since childhood. My dad ran triathlons when I was a child, and I was enamored with them from early on. The lore of the Iron War captivated most of my childhood. I dreamt of Mike Reilly calling my name as I crossed the finish line.

I ran my first while in high school and did not attempt another on until after college. Once I had a little spending money, I took it up again. Turns out, to be successful at triathlon, you need to have a little bit a discipline, which I would not figure out for another ten years.

After I rode my bike 25 miles for the first time, I decided I was ready for a full Ironman in the mountains of Lake Tahoe later that year. I made it to the start line through pure stubbornness. I did not know it at the time, but I was given a stay of execution when the 2014 edition was cancelled while I was in a wetsuit waiting for the gun.

I went on to DNF (did not finish) a few 70.3 distances, either getting cutoff or finishing after cutoff. My last hurrah was Ironman Coeur d’Alene in 2015. We had highs of 105 degrees F and I was cutoff halfway through the bike portion.

I gave up on triathlon at the same time I gave up mountain biking (see below).

Mountain biking

I bought the bike on Friday.

I was in the ER with a broken collarbone on Sunday.

Sold the bike a year later.

Swimming

I grew up swimming on a team in the summers. I should have chosen swimming over football in high school but we moved to a school that did not have a swim team. I also had a better chance of getting a scholarship playing football at the time that decision was made.

Editor’s note: The author earned zero athletic (or academic) scholarships.

I have taken up swimming off and on over the years because all I have to do is buy a new pair of goggles.

I even swam once in 2024.

Woodworking

I picked up woodworking after seeing a bunch of Instagram videos and thinking, “how hard could this be?” I had a coupon to Lowe’s for 10% off a purchase of $100 or more. I bought a table saw, miter saw, router, and several other pieces of equipment. When I got to the register the cashier asked, “did you buy all of this just to use this coupon?” I was confused, but the answer was yes. Turns out the coupon was for $10 off a purchase of $100 or more and I was expecting to save $100 on a $1000 purchase.

I made a few cool things. A stool, a frame, a workbench. I gave it up when I realized I could not buy hardwood locally and moved on to other things.

My mother-in-law is my biggest supporter. She found an old piano for me for $50 on Craigslist, rented a U-Haul, and we both went and picked it up. The idea was for me to turn it into a bar. Once I gave up the hobby, I needed to get rid of the piano. I got several quotes for removal and just decided I would tear it apart myself and slip it into the weekly trash pick up each week. This turned out to be one of the biggest undertakings of my life and I should have just paid for it to be removed. I ended up having to pay someone to pick up the cast iron plate since it seemed to weigh several hundred pounds.

Hunting

I really enjoy the “Meateater” TV show and podcast. I decided to dip my toe into hunter and harvest my own meat.

I asked for a .22 rifle for Christmas. I went squirrel hunting in January after a lot of reading on the subject. As I was leaving my house, I saw at least ten squirrels in our neighborhood. I stalked around the woods for a few hours and did not see a single squirrel.

Archery

Along with hunting, I took up archery at the same time thanks to Joe Rogan and Cam Hanes. I bought a bow, arrows, and targets. I practiced for a few months before I decided to take my new skills to the woods.

As with squirrels, I did not see a single deer.

Shooting

Took up shooting once I became a father. Took several classes and went to the range several times a month. Even joined a shooting range with a year commitment the month before we unexpectedly became a single income family. I have not been to the range since.

Weaving

Thought it would be a good hobby to have that I could do while watching TV. I bought a bunch of yarn and a small loom. I made one or two weaving things before the loom was sentenced to spend the rest of its existence in my junk closet.

Painting

Bought a bunch of expensive paint and a class a gave it a go. Confirmed that I’m not very artistic nor do I have the desire to be.

Electronics

Maybe I could learn electronics and make something. I bought a kit intended for teenagers to see if I enjoyed it. It was fun but I was just following directions and not actually trying to learn.

Coding

Bought a class and made a few “apps” that actually worked.

Microsoft Excel

One of my few professional obsessions. I took a Udemy class and learned a lot about Excel. Unfortunately, my current job barely needs those skills, and I have forgotten nearly all of it.

Spanish

Decided to start learning Spanish two weeks before my daughter was born. Glad I bought an annual subscription for my two-week hobby.

Model building

An activity I enjoyed as a kid and thought I might as an adult. Spoiler: I did not.

Golf

I played golf as a kid and love the sport. I took a job out of college in Augusta solely because of the Masters (and it paid off). I started playing again when some coworkers started a group and invited me and became obsessed again. I took a lesson, practiced daily, and played every chance I got. My 30^th birthday was centered around golf. When we moved to North Carolina, my wife and I joined a country club with an initiation fee on a whim. We had to resign our membership and forfeit our initiation fee only a few months later when we decided we would live 45 minutes from the country club.

Not Video Games

My wife says my best quality is that I don’t play video games. She said this before I started ultrarunning so she may regret that.

Bourbon

I put a lot of effort into getting a job at a distillery in Kentucky. I learned everything there is to know about bourbon. I have many expensive bourbons in my cabinet. I even pretended to enjoy the taste. On par with everything else, I do not even drink any longer.

Brazilian Jiu-jitsu

Accepting a free trial, I attended two classes. I bought a gi and then went on vacation and never went back.

Current Hobbies

Backpacking

I have not backpacked since 2020, but I consider it an active hobby. I carry a backpack with weight (rucking) frequently in hopes that one day I will make it back out into the wilderness. I have backpacked in Great Smoky Mountains, Zion, and Bryce Canyon National Parks and hope to share it with my kids someday.

Flyfishing

Another stagnant but not dead hobby. I picked it up in 2021 and still really enjoy the pursuit. The problem is that toddlers and hooks flying through the air do not mix.

Reading

At times I am a voracious reader. Other times, I barely pick up a book. I was in the slow reading group in elementary school. That fact does not stop me from piling books on my nightstand and dresser. Both of my bookshelves are also double stacked at the moment with read and to-be-read books.

Writing

This is Exhibit A: my return to writing. I wrote for the high school newspaper and even competed, making it to the State meet three years in a row. Maybe this reignites an old flame.

Ultrarunning

Will ultrarunning stick? Did I finally find my true love? Hang around to find out.

Future Hobbies

My future hobbies are mostly tools to piss off my wife. Would that fall under current hobbies?

Rock climbing

I am very interested in rock climbing. I hope to leverage my children’s future interest in rock climbing into my excuse to start too.

Flying

I mostly just use this one to irritate my wife from time to time by bringing it up. I have neither the time nor money to take up flying.

BASE jumping

No real interest, especially as I get older and more timid. My wife seems supportive, but I think it’s the life insurance payout.

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The second annual Ridge to Rails 50K, Half Marathon, and 10K, took place at the Old Fort Trailhead on June 1, 2024 in Old Fort, NC. This year was the first edition of the 50K. I happened to be visiting the area around the same time, so my family and I decided to extend our vacation and start it off with a 50k. My wife liked the idea of hobbling me at the beginning of the vacation so I would not be bouncing off the walls. Little did she know that I was in the best shape of my life and full of stupid ideas.

We the started the day at the Old Fort Trailhead. The sky was overcast, and the air had a bit of a bite to it, the perfect whether for an ultra. I chitchatted with my friends Natalia and Mary in the parking lot and at the start. My “A” goal was 9 hours, “B” and main goal was 10 hours, and “C” was to finish. I had my Ultrapacer table set to 9 hours. Nine hours was a stretch but not totally out of reach so I figured I would target it. Plus, my 50k times have been inversely proportional to the amount of vert in the race, and this would be a vert PR.

Brandon Thrower, the Race Director of Tanawha Adventures, gave pre-race announcements and then started playing the banjo, signaling the start of the race. The course had only been released a few weeks prior due to the fact that it included a brand-new trail, the Lower Heartbreak Trail. We hit this trail very early in the race after passing through Camp Grier. The trail was plush and almost entirely uphill. A few of use were passing each other as I was the faster hiker, but they took the downhills faster. The climb was not anything that I could not manage, especially on fresh legs.

I came to the aid station, which had been pushed out a little further than previously communicated. I refilled my bottles with Skratch provided by the race and got a PB&J out of my vest to eat. The aid station worker told me that I was 30 minutes ahead of the cutoff, which was something no one has ever told me before in a race, but I’ve never done a race where I was chasing cutoffs like this one. As a left the aid station and started the next climb, my foot caught a root, causing me to lurch forward and fall on my sandwich and scrape up my hands. After I cussed, I heard “are you ok?” Later, that guy told me that he was about to turn back because it took me a second to answer. I would be fine, just shaken a bit.

The climb out of aid station 1 was about 500 ft. We started down the Star Gap Trail. This trail switch backed the whole way down and I was growing frustrated with my watch telling me I needed to turn every 100 ft. This was the first time I had every loaded a race course on my watch for a race. I particularly like the climbs on the watch because it keeps me present in that climb and not worrying about what is next. The Ultra activity setting also includes descents, which I had never seen before in the few times I had practiced with loading courses because I only use the Ultra activity on my watch for races. After reaching the bottom, we started a climb up a paved road that eventually turned to gravel and twisted and turned up to the next aid station.

Aid station 2 was where we turned back into the woods from the road. The aid station volunteer asked if I had seen any wildlife and made mention of bear sightings. I left there right on pace according to the pace table. The climb was up a gravel road that narrowed into single track trail as it descended. I lost a good deal of time on the descent according to my pace chart since I’m not a great descender, especially on single track. I eventually came out of the single track to hit aid station 3 on a paved greenway.

Aid station 3 had my drop bag. I had little bags of Tailwind in there in case the Skratch was not cutting it. I had taken a risk and decided to use the race provided Skatch drink in order to save time with making my own Tailwind, but it seemed to be working well. I loaded up on water. It had gotten warm and seems like I could not get enough water.

I budgeted 10 minutes for that aid station and even though I came in a little behind 9 hour pace, I left ahead of it with a long, gentle climb ahead of me that I knew I could keep the pace on. I checked my phone as I was leaving and saw a text from my wife that she was going to be there with the kids I stopped and looked around and she was not there, and I did not have signal. I decided seeing my family was better than some race goal, so I waited. I waited about 5 minutes, and I saw them down the road so I ran to see them and gave them all hugs. My daughter saw that I was covered in dirt, and I told her I fell and she started crying. I ended up losing about 10 minutes, but it was worth it to see them.

The next aid station was 5 miles away and it was all uphill and paved so I made pretty good time. I did have to stop at Point Lookout and get a photo. This greenway gets good use by mountain bikers and I was constantly getting passed by them and they all gave me encouragement and chatted with me. One came up from behind and said, “you have some mean calves!” Well, I must if I’m going to weigh 265lbs and run ultras. Another gave me the details on the upcoming Kitsuma climb, which would be the steepest climb on the course. He said there were 13 switchbacks to the top.

At the Kitsuma aid station at mile 20, I was very thirsty and drank a half gallon of water. The aid station volunteers also loaded me up with ice and I got a brain freeze, so I stuffed the ice in my shirt. I had done the Kitsuma climb before and it was fairly mild, but still tough. I had almost made it to the top when a came across another runner lying on the trail, one switchback from the top. He said his legs were locking up and he could not go on. I offered water but he declined. I wanted to tell him that they were going to make him get off the mountain himself but figured that was not my job. Once at the top of Kitsuma, there is another short climb that is hidden in the profile and then it’s down hill to the mile 25 aid station. I lost a lot of time on this section because I could not run much of it, mostly due to me not training to run on single track.

At the mile 25 aid station, I saw my friend Zach who was volunteering, he filled my bottles and we chatted for a bit. I headed out and saw another text from my wife saying that she was going to be at this aid station, but she was not there. I headed out figuring I would see her driving in and that’s when I saw our vehicle stuck on the side of the road. People told me to move on but then I informed them it was my family and I was not leaving. Zach arrived and told me that I needed to keep moving and that’s when I introduced him to my family. Like God had placed him there purposefully, he had a tow strap and is a mechanic. He sent me on and pulled our car out and inspected it for damage. I will be forever grateful for that.

The next section is on the road for just a bit before it turns back up into single track and the whole time, I was thinking about how irritated I was at my wife, but I let it pass because it had not cost me much time and I trusted Zach to help them out. There are a couple of climbs in the last few miles of the race, but I made it back through Camp Grier and to the last aid station and had myself a little bit of Coca-Cola.

During the last section, I noticed that my watch was going to hit 31.1 miles soon and I decided I was going to get there before 9:30:00 for my Strava PR. I ran for a mile, which was nice because I never push myself at that point in an ultra. I hit 31.1 right before the final “screw you” climb. At that point, I walked it in.

My wife and children were at the finish and my daughter ran up to me and I picked her up and carried her across the finish line. Brandon gave me a high five and handed me the beautiful medal that his wife made. Katie was waiting with my son and Zach was there also. A few of us runners reminisced on my fall earlier in the race.

Overall, this was a great experience. It was my best executed race ever. Set a Strava PR and official 50k PR, even with it having the most vert. I try to minimize ups and downs during races and I was able to stay steady for most of the race. I felt good even when it was hard.

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Stats

Strava Link: 2024 Ridge to Rails 50K

Weather Permitting Podcast Recap

Official Time: 9:43:12

Overall Place: 141/145

Gender Place: 92/96

Watch Distance: 31.82 miles

Watch Time: 9:42:57

Average Pace: 18:19/mile

Elevation Gain: 5,820 ft

Average Heart Rate: 156 bpm

Active Time: 9:24:58 (not in aid station)

Rest Time: 18:26 (in aid station, skewed because my watch on not on rest while waiting for family)

Run Time: 2:41:11

Walk Time: 6:31:59

Idle Time: 29:47

Gear

Shoes: Altra Superior 6

Poles: Leki Ultratrail FX.One (I carried them but did not use)

Vest: Ultimate Direction Ultra Vest

Shirt: Vuori Strato Tech Tee

Shorts: Vuori Kore – 7 inches

Socks: Injinji Ultra Toe Sock

Hat: RNNR

Watch: Garmin Forerunner 955 (Ultra Activity)

Lube: Squirrels Nut Butter and Vaseline

Electrolytes: Relyte and Skratch

Food: PB&J (homemade) and Untapped Maple

Just kidding. I am going to keep things rolling and maybe add some strength training in this year. I was going to write about my goals for 2025 here, but those are pretty simple: finish the Umstead 100 Mile Endurance Run in April and do something in the Fall that helps me on my way to finishing Hellbender in May of 2026. Pretty easy, I guess, especially considering that my wife and I are expecting our third child in May.

Instead, I am going to wrap up 2024 with the Three R’s.

Running

2024 was my biggest year ever running-wise. I went 50k or further eight times as part of a race or training run. According to Strava, I walked or ran 1750 miles (and swam 1.1 miles) and climbed 210,000 feet this year.

My big take away from the year can be summed up in one word: humility. Every single time I let my ego runaway prior to a race, I was humbled. Every time I humbled myself prior to the race, I came out with a better performance than expected. Part of that humility was learning to ask for help. With that, came some great new friendships.

Hopefully, I will stay humble in 2025 and continue to improve my running. I plan to recap most of these races in the coming months and will keep you updated as I continue training for Umstead.

I attempted the following races 2024 (ultra distance or time only):

Holly Springs Race Against the Sun – 24 Hour: 32 miles in 12 hours, 23 minutes

Firefly Trail Run – 12 Hour: 31 miles in 10 hours, 59 minutes

Ridge to Rails - 50K: 9 hours, 43 minutes

Philmont Trail Run – 50 Mile: DNF at 17 miles

Pilot Mountain to Hanging Rock – 50 Mile: DNF at 34 miles

Uwharrie 100 – 100K: 21 hours, 53 minutes

Old Fort Endurance Festival – 24 Hour: 32 miles in 11 hours, 5 minutes

Also established an FKT on the Birkhead Mountain Trail (which has since been taken by some asshole that recorded it as a hike).

Reading

I did not do a great job of keeping track of what I read this year, something I hope to improve upon in 2025. This has also been my least productive year in the last ten years with regards to reading. I was never able to get any momentum going and had a lot of did-not-finishes.

I picked up Brendan Leonard’s writing this year, starting with Ultra-Something, which he released in 2024. I had previously read his book, I Hate Running and You Can Too based on a recommendation from my friend, Barry.

While reading Ultra-Something, I made the connection to a YouTube video I have watched a dozen times, “How to Run 100 Miles,” that was also created by Leonard. From there, I picked up several of his books. Sixty Meters to Anywhere was my favorite read this year. The book tells the story of Leonard’s struggle with alcohol as a young man, treatment, and moving on with his life. One quote from the book really stuck with me.

“If I hadn't quit drinking, yeah, maybe I'd be dead or in jail. But probably I'd just be missing out on an extraordinary life. And that would be a tragedy.”

Have Fun Out There or Not, a collection of his running essays, included the piece “Happiness is Your Backyard Trail.” This and others can be found on his website, semi-rad.com.

“For every Instagram-worthy, magazine-cover-headline-inspiring, do-this-before-you-die trail, there are thousands of miles of unsung (or less-sung) trails like those. When people ask, “What’s your favorite trail?” we tell them some trail we’ve been on once or twice in our lives, instead of the one we could walk blindfolded. And we keep going back to our backyard trails not because of one or two unforgettable experiences, but because of dozens of good experiences.”

This quote really hit me hard this year. I spend a lot of time dreaming about being in the mountains, far away from home. Really, I need to be happy to have the access I do have to train on trails nearly everyday and gain the fitness I need to go run those “Instagram-worthy” trails occasionally.

Leonard’s writing inspired me to start this blog, so send him any hate mail.

Reproducing

2024 was a good reproducing year for me. One for one. I did not intend to impregnate my wife less than a year after our second child was born, but nevertheless, I persisted. We are still trying to figure out how it happened. It is likely punishment for wondering aloud two days before we found out we were expecting, “how do high school kids get pregnant? They must screw like rabbits.”

It should not have been a surprise. I guess you would be surprised too if you were in the kitchen with all the ingredients to bake a cake laid out on the counter. Then suddenly, you mix all of those ingredients together and pour them into a cake pan and then put the cake pan in the oven and 40 minutes later you are surprised to learn that you have baked a cake.

Despite everyone being in absolute shock that two adults could raise more than two children, we are ecstatic to welcome our third child to the world in 2025. I will have to reevaluate how my running looks once we have another mouth to feed, but hopefully it just means I get to spend more running with my kids (and wife).

I had run the 2023 edition of the Firefly Trail Run 12-Hour. I had gone in knowing I could do six hours but wanted to be able to go further if I could. That led to my expectations getting increasingly larger as time passed and ended with 50K being a foregone conclusion and the only question remaining was how much further than 50K I would go. On race day, I did seven 5K loops in 12 hours for a total 21.7 miles. That day left me humbled and I resolved to return in 2024 for revenge.

The race is held on at the picturesque Wag Valley Farm outside of Hendersonville, NC. The loop switchbacks up and along the side of a mountain resulting in a 5K loop with 550 feet of elevation gain and culminates at a breathtaking waterfall. The one and only aid station is in a barn that you run through every lap.

For the uninitiated, the goal of a fixed-time event is to run as far as you can in a specified amount of time. Usually, you must complete the lap for it to count in your final total. The Firefly Trail Run offers 12-hour, 6-hour, and 5K events. The 12-hour starts at 9 am and the 6-hour starts a 3pm so that everyone is finishing under headlamps at 9 pm. The “fireflies” are the runners in the woods after dark since the fireflies are not actually out in April.

My plan was the walk out from the start line and that’s what I did. I did not need to get wrapped up in the emotion of the start. We skirted the edge of the trees with a pasture on the left for about a half mile before turning sharply into the trees. The trail then leads us almost back to the start before it turns climbs. We switchbacked our way up to the top of the little mountain before making our descent to the waterfall. After the waterfall, it is a little bit of single track and then up and down a gravel road back to the aid station.

I noticed the course was not nearly as hard as I had remembered. I was able to cruise up the hills without jacking my heartrate and I was not even breathing hard. I hung out in the back for the first loop and walked into the aid station in dead last, but under the 60-minute pace I needed to keep my “A” goal of 12 laps. I had my own aid station set up, so I bypassed the race’s aid station. My plan was to drink 500 mL of Tailwind and eat a half PB&J sandwich each lap. Every two laps, I would take an Untapped Maple packet. I had twelve ½ PB&J sandwiches and 5 Nalgenes of Tailwind prepped ahead of time.

I kept moving throughout the morning, maintaining my 60-minute per lap pace. The leaders were lapping me, but nothing like the year before when I was getting lapped twice a loop by the same people. Each time I stopped at the waterfall, I gave thanks to God for something I was grateful for: my wife, my kids, my mother-in-law, my friends, etc.

Through 5 laps, halfway to my “B” and main goal of 10 laps, I needed to decide on how to handle the start of the 6-hour race. There would be a mass start and they would all be running and full of energy. In 2023, I had been stuck near the start of the loop and had to stand on the side of the trail for several minutes. I made the decision to slow so that my 6^th lap would finish after 3 pm. This of course took me off my pace for 12 laps. The decision was not totally voluntary, as the day had gotten very warm. The start of the 6-hour race was also a mental challenge to deal with. They come bounding past like it is the best day of their lives and you realize you are only halfway through your race.

My 6^th lap was my first lap over 60 minutes. Because it had gotten warm, I was consuming more Tailwind than previously planned and I had run out of my pre-made stash. I took a few more minutes to gather myself and make more Tailwind. I checked my feet for blisters and applied more Vaseline. I was stopped for over 9 minutes but was well within pace for my main goal.

I figured laps 7 and 8 would be a slog so I switched to caffeinated Tailwind prior to each lap. This was a nice boost and the timing was right. My times crept up over an hour for each lap and due to needed to care for myself, my aid station breaks go longer. Still, I did not linger and waste time resting. I stayed moving the entire race. I also noticed that people had stopped passing me for the most part and I was eating them up. Mentally, I thought of myself as the grim sweeper, having paced myself and was now catching up to everyone else.

Lap 10 was the hardest. I think I mentally checked out and was ready to be done. I continued to move but not fast. I noticed my watch was about to hit 50K (slightly ahead of the official distance) and I wanted to get a Strava PR and I “hammered” it to get the 50K under 10:30:00. I hit that and left everything on the course at that point and death marched it in knowing I was not going to be able to go out for one more lap.

I did, however, find that I had a chance to finish 10 laps in under 11 hours and I found a little more and ran it in down the gravel road and into the barn. I almost ran someone over trying to get in under 11 hours and I crossed the finish line at 10:58:51. Hindsight led me to believe I could have gone around again, but it would have been dark, I needed to refuel, and my legs did not have it in me to finish another loop.

Overall, I was very happy with where I was fitness wise and my performance and execution. I have come a long way from 2023, and I keep getting faster and hard things get a little easier to deal with. Maybe one day, I’ll get to don a headlamp at this race.

Luckily, I had found a rental right across the road from the race, and I had planned ahead and had a pizza waiting for me for dinner, which I devoured before conking out for the night.

Stats:

Strava: 2024 Firefly Trail Run

Official Distance: 31 Miles (10 x 5K Loops)

Official Time: 10:58:51

Overall Place: 22/40

Gender Place: 14/23

Watch Distance: 32.36 Miles

Watch Time: 10:58:56

Average Pace: 20:22/mile

Elevation Gain: 5,486 ft

Average Heart Rate: 145 bpm

Active Time: 10:24:31 (not in aid station)

Rest Time: 34:23 (in aid station)

Run Time: 33:20

Walk Time: 9:40:12

Idle Time: 45:28

Fastest Lap: 56:06 (Lap 2)

Slowest Lap: 1:10:50 (Lap 9)

Gear

Shoes: Lone Peak 7

Poles: Leki Ultratrail FX.One

Shirt: Vuori Strato Tech Tee

Shorts: Vuori Kore – 7 inches

Socks: Feetures

Hat: RNNR Bigger Than Trail

Watch: Garmin Forerunner 955 (Ultra Activity)

Lube: Squirrels Nut Butter and Vaseline

Electrolytes: Relyte and Tailwind

Food: PB&J (homemade) and Untapped Maple

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