Barkley Fall Classic Race Report - Only good turns
First ever woman to podium at BFC! Photo credit: Steve Durbin
In Part 2 of the 2022 Barkley Fall Classic (BFC) race report, I share how my race mantra “Only good turns” ironically took an unexpected turn. Read Part 1 here.
Last year’s BFC mantra was “Controlled but aggressive”. As a veteran knowing how the race doesn’t begin until six plus hours in, I didn’t think this was the best tactic for BFC (especially since the course map had a warm up loop that took me 2.5 hours to complete!)
My heart was pounding out of my chest far worse than ascending Rat Jaw meeting Laz.
After receiving my bib, which serves as proof of course completion by obtaining punches along the course, one of the punched read “Turn”. After chatting to a race volunteer punching bibs, Keith Dunn (I also asked him to share his story about accidently becoming the Barkley Marathon’s Twitter feed.), he explained it was very easy to determine where each punch would be. He also very respectfully explained that “Turn” was not a random turn on the course but the turn-around of the out-and-back section. That inspired my 2022 BFC race mantra: Only good turns.
Several course turns are unmarked, encouraging racers to know the trails and requiring racers to memorize the course. Last year, I was the beneficiary of another veteran’s willingness to yell me down when I nearly went miles off course near the same turn around. This section is only accessible during BFC and my hazy memory of the frantic turn was not reassuring and I hoped it would not be on the 2022 course. It definitely was, so I studied the USGS topographical map and identified three backstops in case the turn arrow was out of sight two years in a row. (Update: My studies paid off and I identified the turn location based on the lay of the land before spotting the sign!)
No ankle turns
What no drop bags, gels, or poles at BFC!?!
The second reason I picked this mantra was that I have turned my ankle so many times over the past two years that I don’t have the confidence on technical sections and downhills (so nearly the entire BFC course!) that I used to have. I also know that one misstep could end my race, disintegrating all the physical and mental preparation I have poured into this race. I even bought high-top hiking shoes to run in and considered racing BFC in them!
My ankle was on my mind the entire day, especially in the final miles. One of the final trails had very recently been grated and I feared that my foot would land and sink into a pocket causing my bad ankle to roll on the final downhill. Luckily I remained unscathed. (The huge ruts previously required utilizing my mountain bike skills finding a best line as I Clydesdaled down the hill.)
Descending Rat Jaw, we usually couldn’t see our feet and luckily there were only a couple of spots that we stumbled over a rock. On the way back, twice the number of rocks were visible plus a log we missed altogether. More frequently, our feet were so entangled in briars that as we stepped forward we’d stumble.
Turn around at the “Turn”
Finally, I experienced an absolute godsend at the low point of my race at the literal turn around point on the course, but let me first provide the context.
Cracking like an egg
Going down Rat Jaw was scarily taxing. Although long pants saved my legs hundreds of cuts, I was overheating. Stomping down the briars was so much more physically demanding than burrowing up like last year. When the briars were especially thick, we occasionally crawled downhill but that was extremely taxing having to hold much more body weight in that body position. Not a single burrow remained on the way back up. I lost several minutes peeling off my shoes and pants as soon as I got to the prison. As I escaped the prison (after entering through the tunnel and over the prison wall), I expected to be in full sun for the next several hours, a stark contrast from last year with complete cloud cover and a mini monsoon during this section. I wouldn’t allow to be cracked like an egg on the hot pavement so I focused on executing the task at hand.
I did a self check and realized I was getting in trouble. This was one of the hottest ultras I have done and the radiation from the sun was melting me. I could no longer eat, I couldn’t manage to drink enough to quench my thirst or to meet my caloric needs. Eating also forced me to slow my pace since I needed my hands to climb and clear briars from snagging my flesh to minimize additional resistance of my labored momentum. Ignoring my situation would lead down a slippery slope that would not self-correct, but I didn’t have a plan other than trying to drink my bladder until it was gone (which disappeared in half the time I had planned).
Coalfield football players fill my bladder to the brim between gulps of ice cold Coke at the turn around. Photo credit: Mark Langley
Godsend
As I approached the turnaround, I realized I still hadn’t seen any race leaders which I thought would be 15-30 minutes ahead of me. Finally, I saw a runner approaching me within sight of the turnaround! I WAS the lead pack! Just like that my fate fortuitously changed. For the first time in twenty-five years, I wasn’t repulsed when I was offered a Coke. I immediately asked, “Is it cold?” Images of me puking (I have NEVER puked from a workout or race) from the carbonation (I avoid all carbonated beverages as they wreak havoc on my stomach) flashed in my mind as the can popped open. It was worth the risk to get cold, quick calories. As I chugged, it clicked that cold pop means they have ice. I asked for ice and instantly my bra and hat were filled with ice. (Finally the hat that just seemed to be holding all the heat onto my head and was worth the dozens of stops to reclaim it hanging like a ornament on the pokiest Christmas tree ever.) Miraculously, the ice lasted the entire next climb. The rest of the story – my gracious host and fellow BFC racer had requested ice cold Cokes from her friend captaining the aid station. This was the only spot on the race course with this godsend!
John Kelly punching bibs at the turnaround instantly lifted my spirits!
Oh and of course I was inspired when who punched my bib at this aid station but legendary John Kelly! I instantly had new life and ran the return route 25% faster. Although the return route required me to pass almost every racer still on course, they did everything in their power to allow me to plow ahead.
Christmas present
This wasn’t the last of my good fortune. As I did the math to calculate the remaining time I needed to meter out my effort, I realized that when I packed for the race, I had expected to be faster than last year. I was indeed faster and last year’s course was 20% beyond a 50K distance so this year couldn’t possibly be slower? WRONG.
Although I am not a heavy sweater, I drank 260 ounces over the 10 hours. I forced a tiny dribble pee to ensure my kidneys were working over the first eight hours of the race despite having beautiful clear pee minutes before the start. In the final legs, I consumed 20 ounces in 30 minutes followed by 40 ounces in an hour and then being out of hydration for the final 30 minutes of the race.
Nearly all of the 260 ounces of liquids (16 pounds) of liquids I consumed had exited my body as sweat. Electrolytes needed to be replaced, but I was down to my last electrolyte pill and would be at least one short. My muscular output would be compromised and I made a mental note to inquire at the next aid station or desperately asked random racers if they had a spare. Then, as I clawed up Gunnysack Hill, I spotted the sole lost item I noticed on the entire race course inches from my face – a full open shredded sandwich bag of electrolyte pills hanging off briars. And with that, I climbed up Rat Jaw and executed “only good turns” as I ran down a podium spot at the 2022 BFC!
Banner photo: Attempting to focus on forward propulsion rather than the heat in the full sun.
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