Ultra Kraut Running

Matt Sims, the RD for the Upchuck 50K, limits race entries to 75 total, which not only adds to the low key feel of the event, but it's actually what attracts many of us to this event. I have only done this event twice now, but it already feels like a trail family reunion. There are always "new" runners from all over the Southeast there to participate, but you will also recognize many of the faces of local and regional runners, who return to this event year after year after year. Granted, the sweet Patagonia swag definitely doesn't discourage participation either. However, if you are looking for big fanfare or any handholding then this event is not for you. Pay close attention to the trail flagging or be ready to run some extra miles on limited fuel. This is not a deterrent for many of us but rather the attraction.

Due to Covid, race packet pickup had been moved to race morning to minimize the number of gatherings. The race shuttle AKA school bus AKA "Covid Capsule" (RayJay quote) left promptly at 7:30AM for a 8AM race start at a trailhead 15 minutes north of Soddy-Daisy, our current and race finish location. This year, runners were shuttled in two busses rather than the usual single bus in order spread runners out more as another Covid precaution.

Upon our arrival at the trailhead, runners slowly assembled for the traditional pre-race roll call by "RayJay", but not until being called out and embarrassed for peepeeing in the woods. After another memorable roll call, runners were sent off onto the gnarly Cumberland Trail to complete this year's Upchuck 50K, a point to point trail race, where runners cross multiple streams and rockhop across leave covered single track trail wjhile climbing more than 6000 feet. But runners do get the luxury of two aid stations along the way, one at mile 7 and one at 18. This means you better pack enough calories and fluids in your pack to avoid bonking or getting dehydrated.

After both falling and having my shoes go untied (rookie mistake not to double knot the laces) less than a mile into the race, I caught up to Ryan Meulemans and a group of runners, whom I would stick with for the majority of the first 18 miles. Once we rolled into mile 18, 3 hours 8 minutes into the race, it seemed the group finally stretched and just like that, I was on my own. I moved pretty well up until this point. However, it seemed running 3 ultras in the previous 8 weeks may have started to show some residual fatique. 

I was able to run a good bit over the next five or six miles, but by the time I had a measily 10k to go I was done. I slowed to a shuffle and soon after I just walked. I started checking my watch every minute. It was a struggle. Calf cramps started to rear their ugly head. I popped SCaps like gummy bears and eventually gor them back under control. However, I had slowed so much that I had now run out of fluids as well. What had looked like a massive PR at mile 18 now looked like I may not even match last year's time. By the time I finally popped out onto the final road to the finishline with 1.5 miles to go, I tried to pick up my pace. In the end, it just wasn't enough. I missed last year's time by exactly one minute.

In the end, I got exactly what I came for. A good laugh at the pre race roll call, a fantastic time in the woods and more laughs at the finish line BBQ with my trail family. I can't wait for registration to open again to be out there to run hard and laugh even harder. Until then, check out my race video here to get a better feel for the race:

The No Business 100 is still a fairly new race that was started in 2017. It is a 100-102 mile loop, depending on the direction it is run in, that runs through Tennessee and Kentucky and crosses through the Big South Fork National River and Recreation Area. Along the way, runners climb just over 14,000 feet while passing numerous natural features like giant sandstone arches, walls and caves as well as cross numerous hanging bridges, stone steps and wooden staircases along the way. Fall season had already started to turn the leaves into beautiful oranges and reds, but that fall foliage also made for some challenging footing on the course.

I decided to take my camper van and to make the 3 and a half hour drive and camp just outside Pickett State Park in Tennessee, the new race start and finish location fo the NB100. Luckily, my buddy Paul was up for the same adventure, so we traveled and camped together. Our adventure buddies Jeff Morgan and Jerry Abbott were racing as well, but since they registered early, they had also reserved a campground right near the start/finish right away. In addition to the 4 of us there were another 4 Huntsville runners taking on this race, including a couple of first timers, Jay Crosby and Christopher Reeves.

We arrived at Pickett State Park on Thursday evening to pick up our race bibs and goodie bags while also answering a two page health questionnaire, all part of the Covid safety measures, which I was absolutely fine with, even if I gave the medical volunteers some grief...all in good fun, that's just my type of humor:-)

Paul and I connected with some of our fellow running buddies before calling it a night and heading to our campground at Bandy Creek just 30 minutes way, which also happens to be an aid station for the race. We settled in pretty quickly, ate our dinners and made some final preparations for our race kit. We had already turned in our drop bags during packet pickup. I had opted for 4 drop bags. Three of them were small stuff sacks that only contained nutrition. The fourth bag was a larger dry sack that contained a fresh pair of Altra Olympus and a change of CEP socks and clothes along with nutrition. I would have access to this particular drop bag twice, first at mile 62 and once again at mile 68 at the Blue Herron aid station.

My race plan was a little different for this event. It was quite a bit more aggressive than my more recent 100 milers. I had spent some time reviewing the previous years' results and was puzzled by the low finisher rates along with the slower than usual finish time averages for a race with a fairly tame elevation profile. I knew there had to be a reason and there was as I'd soon find out. However, that did not keep me from shooting a bit higher than I normally would in a 100. I wanted to really push myself, earn a top ten finish or complete the race in less than 24 hours. To be honest, I thought a sub 24 hour finish would be the easier of the two goals. Suffice it to say, there was nothing easy about my goals for this race.

Part of the COVID measures included a race start in waves, allowing runners to stat anywhere between 10AM and 12PM. There was a 15 minute start window from 10-10:15AM the RD referred to as the Elite start. Runners with particular abitions of a top finish could choose to start during this time. Honestly, I obviousy had no ambitions for a podium spot, but I did have time goal I was shooting for, so I chose the earliest start. My reasons for this were two fold. One, I wanted to get ahead of the larger field to be able to run my own race from the start, without any pressure or risk of running someone else's pace. Two, I had heard that this race course could be wet and muddy, so I wanted to reduce the risk of coming through wet trail sections after 100+ runners had already come through, potentially making the terrain even more sloppy and slippery. I believe that plan ans reasoning worked out to perfection for me. I never ran any pace other than my own, I was never caught in any conga lines and trail conditions were not adversely affected by runners running ahead of me. Of course, that last part was largely due to zero rain during the race.

Paul and I arrived at the race start from our overnight campgound at around 9:30AM, with plenty of time for me to have my temperature checked (another COVID measure) before lining up in the starting chute. I line up with about 15 or so other runners and I was ready to go. I felt fantastic. A quick hello and some banter with the other early starters and eventual winner Karl Meltzer, a short intro by RD Brian Gajus and we were off. I was stoked to get going and committed to my goal 100%. I knew that would mean some long stretches of discomfort, but I was ok with that. If I hit my goal, I wouldn't have to hurt for longer than 24 hours:-)

However, that never happened. Once I dropped to 10th place, I was only passed one more time by someone who ran at a different level than myself that day, a runner by the name of Lyman Hawbaker, who had started a ful 30 minutes after me and who'd caught up to me by mile 68 at the Blue Herron aid station. We'd run together for the next couple of miles before I made the wise choice to just let him go ahead. 

I rolled in and out of the first two aid stations (Pickett and Sawmill) at miles 8 and 14 feeling fantastic and spending jsut enough time to refill my bottles. I would carry enough Spring energy gels and drink mix to get me from one drop bag to the next drop bag along the course. I've dialed in my nutrition pretty well over the last couple of years, aiming for about 150-250 calories per hour, which would usually be one gel and one bottle of fluids with both electrolytes and calories. I'd supplement that with about 1-2 SCaps per hour, depending on effort, sweat output and general weather conditions, i.e. hot or cold. I would supplement this nutrition plan with the occasional banana, potato, pickle and other bland foods to avoid any stomach issues and to eat some real foods during a long event. During the NB100, I really graviatated towards tortillas with hummus that most aid stations were offering as one of their menu items. It worked really well for me and most importantly, I didn't get sick of it. As the race wore on, I started to drink generous amounts of Coca-Cola whenever I had the chance. However, I was determined to move through the aid stations very quickly as multiple long aid station stops that can really eat away at your finishing time. Instead, I planned for only one longer stop, at mike 68, when it would be a good time to change shoes, if needed, and to put on some fresh dry layers to be ready for the cold night with temps forecast to be just above 30 degrees.

As I settled into my own race over the first 10+ miles, I made sure to keep my head up to enjoy the amazing scenery that surrounded us runners. Large sandstone features were visible all along the course. Sandstone bridges, arches, massive walls and even caves kept me in awe. Thankfully, I had taken my GoPro along to capture as much of this natural beauty as possible. I spent 99% of my time out there completely alone, but that didn't keep me from talking out loud whenever I came up on another sandstone feature. I still cannot believe that the Southeast is actually home to this amazing National Recreation Area.

By the time I arrived at the Bandy Creek aid station (#3) at mile 25, I had caught up to a runner in front of me. But I also spotted the first female runner arriving in the aid station just as I was leaving. Even after 25 miles, runners were still pretty closer to one another than I would've expected. When I arrived at the next aid station, I had caught up to yet another runner. I was now running well within the top 10, at least I thought so, and still feeling great. When you're our there alone for that long, you need to keep your mind occupied. For me, that often means playing a song or even just a verse of a song over and over in my head, hundreds of times, to the cadence of my stride at that time. This is often enough to keep my mind off the daunting task ahead while still keeping me in the moment as well, even if that moment plays inside my head:-)

Keeping track of my placement in the field is another way to stay engaged and in the moment and motivated, at least for me. It's not about winning or losing, its about staying engaged mentally to not let up. Running 100 miles out there and on your won it is often easy to slowly drift back, slow down significantly and even doze off as you move along. I've caught myself many times asleep on my feet having nearly come to a complete stop until waking up and talking to myself to get back moving. "Running scared", if jsut for a moment, can pull you out of such a low place rather quickly. The trick is to use it as a tool or weapon only and not as something that puts undue pressure on yourself. It seems to work for me. I often pack an iPod with a massive playlist of music that gets me going, but as has been the case many many times before, I always seem to do better by just relying on the two methods mentioned above.

Due to the near midday start of the race, runners would encounter nightfall much earlier in the race than usual. For me, that meant somewhere around mile 40, I finally pulled the headlamp out of my running pack, that I had picked up from my drop bag at the mile 25 aid station at Bandy Creek. I also carried my favorite Patagonia Houdini windbreaker for the enture duration of the race along with a pair of gloves and sleeves, just to be ready for the temperature drop that had been forecast. While I did end up changing into some dry clothes at mile 68, I never really needed more than a short sleeve short, my windbreaker and some gloves even when temps reached just above 30 degrees later on in the night. The key to not becoming hypothermic is to keep moving and to not stand around in aid stations allowing your body to cool off. Even with my pretty efficient aid station strategy, it would still take nearly 2 miles after leaving each overnight aid station until the feeling in my fingertips would return back to normal. They would go from numb to tingling to normal every time I left an aid station. The goal was to keep moving and to not allow the cold to creep in. I managed that to a large degree.

The overnight hours were pretty lonely, so having a challenging goal really helped keep me moving and motivated. I made sure to supplement my headlamp with a waist light for the later parts of the night between 1-3AM, when the "sleepies" would be the worst. A waist light also provides a 3D view of the ground, ensuring that a runner's depth perception isn't negatively affected by the dark. I've experienced many race in the past, where my reliance on a hadlamp alone meant that I was unable to see rocks, roots and other obsticles rise from the ground. The terrain just seems to blend in, void of any topographical features, which makes it extremely hazardous for night running. A good waist light aleviates this issue completely. 

I managed to completed the first 50 miles of the race in 10 hours 29 minutes, certain to still be on track for an even better finish than sub 24. Maybe 22 hours were in the cards. I had to lay that idea to rest many miles later, when I finally relaized that 50 miles is not the halfway point. Instead, runners had to cover 102 miles to arrive at the finish. I'm not sure how that slipped my mind, but as a result, my estimates continued to be off my nearly 30 minutes. I didn't realize this fauxpas until mile 85. The slowing overnight coupled with the "added" 2 miles now meant that a sub 24 hour finish could be at  serious risk.

I had to keep moving. As I got more and more tired and continued to slow, the terrain got slower and more difficult as well. It was working against me. I started arguoing with the course out loud. What the H@!!, I need to make up time and you just keep getting more difficult. How am I supposed to make up time in these conditions. I felt sorry for myself, just for a few miles. At mile 92, I gave myself a talking to. You've worked hard all day and all night, you cannoy quit now and just walk it in. You'll regret it as soon as you corss that finish line. Finishing was never in question, only how I would finish. I put my head down and went to work. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't fast, but I was doing what I could to ensure that I knew I'd left it all out there. There would be no regrets at the finish, no matter my time. 

A pep talk by Jenny and Frankling Baker at the final aid station was all I needed to keep moving and get it done. Finally, I was hearing voices and even seeing cars through the trees. Could this already be the finish? I thought I still had a mile or so to go? A friendly spectactor confirmed my hope. I opened up my stride one last time to cross the finish line in 23 hours and 29 minutes, well below my 24 hour goal. As icing on the cake, RD Brian Gajus actually introduced a special buckle for sub 24 hour finishers this year and I was lucky enough to be one of 9 runners that would earn one this year. I also managed a 7th overall finish, which mde the day even better. I fell into a chair at the finish and spent the next few hours reliving the race and swapping stories with fellow runners as they continued to arrive at the finish line, sometimes on foot, sometimes in the back of a truck. That's how it goes in a 100 mile trail race.  

 To say this has been a year of great uncertainty is an understatement. Ultrarunning, just like any other sport, has been greatly impacted by the COVID pandemic currently spanning the globe. As a result, a year that was meant to be full of new trail and mountain adventures in the Alps and the Rockies in Europe and across the US has turned into one virtual race after another around my neighborhood in Huntsville, Alabama. To be fair, it wasn't all bad. While I used to think of virtual races as an opportunity for lazy peeps to make money prior to the pandemic, I actually learned to appreciate virtual races for what they are during the pandemic. They provided the motivation I needed to keep training "towards" something...anything. However, after signing up for and participating in a number of these events to keep myself motivated AND to keep race directors in business, the early shine had worn off again for me.

Thankfully, a few races started to happen again (with strictly implemented COVID precautions) and runners were able to either just register or sign up for wait lists. It had been 6 months since I had ran an actual race, so when things started to open up I started to sign up for a couple of races. Some continued to get cancelled, but some actually started to happen. I finally had a 100 miler to train for again, the No Business 100 Miler in Tennessee and Kentucky in October, just a few hours drive north of me.

I had been ramping up my mileage and training again and registered for and run a couple of shorter events for a couple of months when my phone rang. "Hey man, what are you doing September 25-26 weekend?" "Let me check my calendar" was my response, "Well, I'm running the Barkley Fall Classic 50K the weekend prior, why are you asking?" "Come to Utah and run the Bear 100 with me!" Now, most people would respectfully decline and rightfully so, but this was a strange year and unlike last year when I had already run five 100 milers at this point, I only had one solo 100 miler to my name for the year. Also, I don't recall ever turning down an invitation for adventure, so there's that. So after a brief moment I responded "Hell yes, let's to this!"

The Bear 100 had been on my bucket list for a while, so I was excited to toe the line. I was concerned about having run the Barkley Fall Classic 50K just 5 days prior, but with no particular time goals in mind, I would be happy just to take in the beautiful course I'd heard so much about and to earn that Bear 100 finisher buckle. And I was just as excited to start the pre race pre and planning, drop bags, gear, etc. It had been a while.

When I arrived in Salt Lake City, I met up with my buddy Vic, who'd just arrived from CA and we made our way to Logan, UT. The Bear 100 is a point to point race from Logan, Utah to Fish Haven, Idaho with approx. 22,000 feet of vertical gain. While reviewing the race elevation profile during my race prep, I counted 12 significant climbs. I initially considered trekking poles, but I ultimately stuck to my self-imposed "rule" to limit use of trekking poles to 100 mile races with more than 25,000 feet of vertical gain. 

Race packet pickup took place at a local outdoor sports shop in downtown, Utah. We collected our bibs and spent the remainder of the day either prepping gear in our hotel rooms or taking care of some work. The race would start at predawn the next morning, so the plan was to rest, eat an early dinner and get as much sleep as possible to be ready for the day(s) ahead. 

With the race set to start at 6AM and the race start just a short 15 min drive from our hotel, I set my alarm for 4:30AM on race morning. As a COVID precaution, runners would start in groups of 50 staggered one minute between each wave. I was in the third wave and my buddy Vic was in the sixth wave. We had decided early on to try to run together for as long as possible, so once the race got underway I decided to wait on him at the bottom of the first (and biggest) climb of the race. It was still dark, which made me think we'd reach the top of this climb just in time for sunrise. 

The weather forecast for the race weekend looked very promising and it did not disappoint. Low temps around high 30s/40s and highs in the mid 70s with 10% chance of rain. Thankfully, we only experienced about a 2 min drizzle of rain, which is not worth mentioning for a race notoriously known to experience hours upon hours of rain fall leading to extremely treacherous running conditions. In short, we got extremely lucky. 

We slowly made our way to the top of the first climb near Logan Peak. Due to the narrow nature of the single track trail runners were essentially at the mercy of the runner in front of them and to move at their pace. This is nothing new in trail races and it's known as being caught in a "train". Now, this can be both a blessing (making sure you do not start out too fast) and a curse (you are forced to move at a pace other than your own). However, it was very early in the day, so I wasn't worried. 

Once we made it to the top, we were rewarded with a nice runnable downhill that was wide enough to allow us to pass other runners. Vic and I stayed together through most of this descent and the next climb. However, it was shortly after the second climb were we lost touch with each other. I had decided to push ahead for a quick bathroom break and it is at this point that we lost touch. I continued to move at a comfortable pace, hoping that we would reconnect at the first aid station with drop bags at mile 19, which we did. I was finishing up refilling my bottles and reloading gels and drink mixes from my drop bag when he coasted into the aid station. We continued on shortly thereafter. The next section was actually the only flatish section I recall from the entire course. Usually, you're moving either up or down. Here, Vic started to pull away from me just walking down the Jeep road as we took in some calories. 5km later we would enjoy another aid station before starting another major climb.

We lost touch again on this climb as our climbing and descending paces were just too different. We would catch up to each other one last time around the mile 30 aid station, where we both agreed to continue on our own and at our own comfortable pace. Just a mile later I spotted the first race casualty. A runner had sought refuge under a small tree just at the side of the trail. It had started to warm up and all the climbing, some of it exposed to the sun must have caused him to overheat. A fellow runner had already stopped and was on the phone to call for assistance, so I continued on. Just 2 minutes later, I bumped into my friend Andrea. After catching up for while,  we took a quick selfie and parted ways.  

I continued on with my usual 100 miler strategy, move at a comfortable pace, don't drag your feet, run by feel and work your way from aid station to aid station, check your time only at major race milestones, no more no less. I did have two time goals at the beginning of the race. First, to finish the race in less than 30 hours to earn the "Grizzly" buckle, second, to finish the race under the 36 hour cutoff and earn the "Black Bear" buckle, if things didn't go well. 

By mile 52, I was still on my "A" goal, but i was about an hour behind my projected pace. I had struggled a bit with the warmer temps on a couple of the climbs and nausea was trying to kill my appetite. Nevertheless, I managed to continue to stay on top of my hydration and nutrition, I just didn't partake in a lot of the aid station foods. I dialed back my salt intake as well as I slowed during the over night hours. Luckily it was shortly after this stretch that I fell in with another runner, which is often the case and extremely helpful during the night sections, when sleep tries to overtake you and your legs try to keep moving slower and slower. Christian and I continued together through the night and I was very thankful for the company as it stayed dark for a full 12 hours. Temperatures started to dip as the night went on and we made sure we wouldn't spend too much time at aid stations and to keep moving. 

By mile 75, my feet had started to develop some hot spots due to the longer than usual sections of walking or hiking uphill. Thankfully, I had stashed a pair of cushy Altra Olympus 4.0 in my drop bag and I decided to change both socks and shoes. This was the best decision I could have made. This shoe wore differently on my feet and hotspots were a non-factor for the remainder of the day. Christian had also given me important intel about the final 10K of the race, suggesting a more cushioned shoe to be a great idea. He was right.

As day broke, the temps continued to sink, especially on top of the ridge lines. However, Christian and I were able to finally overcome the sleepies for good and get a bot more energy. However, as we approach the final 15 miles, it became very clear that we would not be able to break 30 hours at our current pace. Christian commented on it first, saying that he didn't expect his pace to increase and that if I thought I had it in me to break 30 hours, that I should go for it now. I started to do the math. I had loaded the course on my Garmin watch and it predicted a finishing time of 30 hours 45 minutes based on my running to this point. I started to look at the actual race clock. I needed to run 16 min miles for the remainder of the race to break 30 hours. However, there were still two major climbs left, a long one and a short and extremely steep one. Regardless, I knew I'd beat myself up if I didn't at least give it a shot. With Christian's encouragement I took off down the mountain.

Less than a mile later, I arrived at the second to last aid station. A quick bottle refill and a banana and I continued on my way. I was finally on a mission. Of course, the course started to climb and continued to do so for 3-4 miles. I still managed to run most of it taking short walk break in the process. Even though I was pushing, I had to pull on my rain jacket to stay warm. Temps were chilly. This section felt endless, but eventually I arrived at the mile 92 aid station expecting to see our crew. A misunderstanding had them waiting at the finish line, but just as well, I opted not to even dig into my drop bag and just keep going after another bottle refill. 

I had one massive climb left and it was a doozy. Just short of a mile this climb had me on my tippy toes all the way, but when it finally topped out, I was able to really run. I'm not sure how many runners I passed over the final 15 miles, but it had to have been nearly 30.

I finally crossed the finish line in 29 hours and 16 minutes, having made up nearly an hour and a half over the final 15 miles. Thanks Vic, Chris and Hugh for being such a fun crew and thanks Christian for the company for the tough night hours. Finally, thanks to the RD and the entire crew of volunteers for making this thing happen in these difficult times and when just about everyone else had to cancel their events.

Check out the race video I created below: