Within the last couple days preceding the race, anticipation and worry were beginning to flood my mind. What if I get lost and am in the dark woods all alone? What if I get hypothermia and am stuck lying on the side of the trail to maybe never be found? What if I don’t survive the Georgia Death Race? The sadistic race director, Sean Blanton, spent months prior to the race posting heckling Facebook posts saying things like, “You are going to die” and “Hello, dead runners.”
It wasn’t until the prerace meeting that I discovered that Sean was a nice guy who truly did want everyone to finish. I got the confidence I needed from a guest speaker who was an army ranger who had trained on the same mountains that we were about to run on. “When you are trying to survive, you need to have two things: a reason to finish, and a way to overcome your fear.” He had a way to test the second one that required the use of three volunteers. My boyfriend, Darren, volunteered me and before I knew it, I was in the front of the room with the largest boa constrictor around my neck. The 40-pound snake slithered its head towards me and I felt its tongue on my arms and then my neck. I had all the adrenaline I needed to start the race in what the timeclock behind me showed was about to begin in 11:38:59—less than half a day.
It wasn’t until the prerace meeting that I discovered that Sean was a nice guy who truly did want everyone to finish. I got the confidence I needed from a guest speaker who was an army ranger who had trained on the same mountains that we were about to run on. “When you are trying to survive, you need to have two things: a reason to finish, and a way to overcome your fear.” He had a way to test the second one that required the use of three volunteers. My boyfriend, Darren, volunteered me and before I knew it, I was in the front of the room with the largest boa constrictor around my neck. The 40-pound snake slithered its head towards me and I felt its tongue on my arms and then my neck. I had all the adrenaline I needed to start the race in what the timeclock behind me showed was about to begin in 11:38:59—less than half a day.
Before I knew it, I was at the starting line with my railroad spike in my pack seconds away from the start. I took off running towards the trail that would soon start the longest climb of the race and then shortly after, the Duncan Ridge Trail (also know as the Dragon’s Back). I flew for about the first 7 miles—running all of the sections where the trail mellowed out, and hiking as fast as I could up the steep sections.
To my surprise, I was surrounded by runners for the first 11 miles in the race (unlike at Silverheels where I was with people for the first 0.25 miles). This gave me confidence. My strategy was to keep moving at a consistent pace, to run anything that was downhill or very gradual uphill, and to eat as much as I could between and at the aid stations. I found that leaving every aid station I had this new-found energy that would bring me soaring up the trails for about 2 miles—until I was starving, yet again.
To my surprise, I was surrounded by runners for the first 11 miles in the race (unlike at Silverheels where I was with people for the first 0.25 miles). This gave me confidence. My strategy was to keep moving at a consistent pace, to run anything that was downhill or very gradual uphill, and to eat as much as I could between and at the aid stations. I found that leaving every aid station I had this new-found energy that would bring me soaring up the trails for about 2 miles—until I was starving, yet again.
Several short, hard rain showers also motivated me. I thought about one of the training hikes that I did with my mom on the Appalachian Trail when I was home for break in northern Virginia where the rain seemed to follow us on the trail, giving the day character, the overlooks a mysterious beauty, and our voices energy as we sang and told stories along the way.
The first real challenge of the race was 8 and a half hours in when I was at Point Bravo, at mile 28. I sat down in a chair while one of the aid station workers helped me take off my shoes—which was the best feeling to have this early in the race. I knew I had to put Vaseline on my feet and stand up quick or else I’d never be able to get up. I received grossed-out facial expressions from the aid station workers as I dunked my fingers into the big jar of Vaseline and lathered it straight onto my compression socks so that it would seep into my toes and arches.
The first real challenge of the race was 8 and a half hours in when I was at Point Bravo, at mile 28. I sat down in a chair while one of the aid station workers helped me take off my shoes—which was the best feeling to have this early in the race. I knew I had to put Vaseline on my feet and stand up quick or else I’d never be able to get up. I received grossed-out facial expressions from the aid station workers as I dunked my fingers into the big jar of Vaseline and lathered it straight onto my compression socks so that it would seep into my toes and arches.
This was the first aid station where I got to see Neel, my crew and pacer. “The hardest part of the race is behind you, you got this dude,” Neel said high fiving both of my hands. I needed that encouragement because I thought that there would be no chance of me finishing under cutoff if I continued at that same pace for the last two-thirds of the race. He had all of my race food laid out on a towel ready for me to choose from, including two bags of seedless watermelon that he freshly cut and salted for me. BEST THING EVER.
I continued on and actually did find that the climbs were more gradual and that there were more runnable sections. I talked to a lot of runners between mile 28 and 47. I told them about the VT Ultrarunning club and how there was three other runners from Tech who were most likely in the top 10!
As soon as 6pm rolled around I began to hustle, running and hiking as strong as I could with the goal of knocking out as much of the trail sections as I could so that I wouldn’t have to run on trail alone in the dark. Miraculously, I ended up getting to the aid station at mile 41 as soon as it got dark. All I had was 6 miles of downhill on fire road before Neel would be able to run with me at mile 47.
I continued on and actually did find that the climbs were more gradual and that there were more runnable sections. I talked to a lot of runners between mile 28 and 47. I told them about the VT Ultrarunning club and how there was three other runners from Tech who were most likely in the top 10!
As soon as 6pm rolled around I began to hustle, running and hiking as strong as I could with the goal of knocking out as much of the trail sections as I could so that I wouldn’t have to run on trail alone in the dark. Miraculously, I ended up getting to the aid station at mile 41 as soon as it got dark. All I had was 6 miles of downhill on fire road before Neel would be able to run with me at mile 47.
Dazed but elated to walk into the aid station I hollered, “Neel? …Neel…?” Finally he heard me and sprung up from behind the fire pit and was ready to run. He was stoked to run and told me that I made up a lot of time on the last section and that I came into that aid station quicker than he thought.
We left the aid station running with a girl named Carolynn from Michigan who I had run with earlier before the last aid station. The three of us jogged down the fire road laughing and exchanging stories. It felt just like VT Ultra group run! It was awesome to have people to run with. Neel guided us and led us down a trail section that she and I may have overlooked if he hadn’t been with us.
My eyes were fixed on the silver reflectors on the back of Neel’s shoes as he jogged in front of me and pulled me along the trail. He picked up the speed that nearly went unnoticed until I realized how many people we suddenly passed. The pepperoni that I ate just minutes ago kicked in and we soared down the incredible non-technical downhill. “Roller-coaster shoes!!” I yelled, flying in my Salomon S-Lab Wings.
Neel commented on all of the views that were “incredible” in the light of the full moon. We soared through the grassy single track that lead us to the bacon aid station. We were told we had 9 miles until the last aid station and then 9 miles after that to the finish. I ate as many orange slices, potatoes, and pieces of bacon as I could to fuel up for the last 18 miles.
We hit a 2-mile asphalt road section that I had thought, and hoped, would lead to trail but instead it lead to a 9-mile gradual uphill on fire road up Nimblewill Gap. There weren’t many course marking flags along the road but we did see headlamps ahead of us so we figured we were still going the right way. Although it was past midnight and I wasn’t tired, I was beginning to get loopy. I freaked out to Neel when I saw what I thought was someone wearing a headlamp and walking in the woods in a Pac-Man-shaped tent. The image morphed into a house as soon as he told me that that’s what it actually was.
I began to regret not switching into my road stability shoes and I felt my blisters getting worse with every step. Around 2am, I finally had to put on my jacket as it was getting super cold the higher we got up the mountain. Neel kept me in good spirits by asking me silly questions like “what’s your favorite animal?” and “what’s your favorite bridge? You know like, drawbridge or suspension…”
Miles of silence then passed as Neel and I hiked up the road until he turned around to a middle-aged man who had been hiking right behind us and said “so what’s your favorite animal?” “…Wait, me?” the guy responded. I cracked up laughing as he replied “a panther.. I suppose.” Besides finishing, that was the best part of the night. It was good to laugh and get my mind off of how much my feet hurt and how hungry I was.
Somewhere between an hour and ten years we finally reached the aid station. It was freezing. I was starving. It was awful. The 9 miles between the finish line and me felt like so much. I sat down by the fire shivering uncontrollably and eating potatoes as Neel helped me take off my left shoe and squeeze frozen Vaseline out of a tube to apply to my sock again. Neel is the best person ever. I was a mess at that point but he helped make sure I ate enough and gave me his gloves and an extra shirt to wear to keep going. I took 3 ibuprofen’s after deciding that my other shoe would never come off, and finally got up to keep going.
We left the aid station running with a girl named Carolynn from Michigan who I had run with earlier before the last aid station. The three of us jogged down the fire road laughing and exchanging stories. It felt just like VT Ultra group run! It was awesome to have people to run with. Neel guided us and led us down a trail section that she and I may have overlooked if he hadn’t been with us.
My eyes were fixed on the silver reflectors on the back of Neel’s shoes as he jogged in front of me and pulled me along the trail. He picked up the speed that nearly went unnoticed until I realized how many people we suddenly passed. The pepperoni that I ate just minutes ago kicked in and we soared down the incredible non-technical downhill. “Roller-coaster shoes!!” I yelled, flying in my Salomon S-Lab Wings.
Neel commented on all of the views that were “incredible” in the light of the full moon. We soared through the grassy single track that lead us to the bacon aid station. We were told we had 9 miles until the last aid station and then 9 miles after that to the finish. I ate as many orange slices, potatoes, and pieces of bacon as I could to fuel up for the last 18 miles.
We hit a 2-mile asphalt road section that I had thought, and hoped, would lead to trail but instead it lead to a 9-mile gradual uphill on fire road up Nimblewill Gap. There weren’t many course marking flags along the road but we did see headlamps ahead of us so we figured we were still going the right way. Although it was past midnight and I wasn’t tired, I was beginning to get loopy. I freaked out to Neel when I saw what I thought was someone wearing a headlamp and walking in the woods in a Pac-Man-shaped tent. The image morphed into a house as soon as he told me that that’s what it actually was.
I began to regret not switching into my road stability shoes and I felt my blisters getting worse with every step. Around 2am, I finally had to put on my jacket as it was getting super cold the higher we got up the mountain. Neel kept me in good spirits by asking me silly questions like “what’s your favorite animal?” and “what’s your favorite bridge? You know like, drawbridge or suspension…”
Miles of silence then passed as Neel and I hiked up the road until he turned around to a middle-aged man who had been hiking right behind us and said “so what’s your favorite animal?” “…Wait, me?” the guy responded. I cracked up laughing as he replied “a panther.. I suppose.” Besides finishing, that was the best part of the night. It was good to laugh and get my mind off of how much my feet hurt and how hungry I was.
Somewhere between an hour and ten years we finally reached the aid station. It was freezing. I was starving. It was awful. The 9 miles between the finish line and me felt like so much. I sat down by the fire shivering uncontrollably and eating potatoes as Neel helped me take off my left shoe and squeeze frozen Vaseline out of a tube to apply to my sock again. Neel is the best person ever. I was a mess at that point but he helped make sure I ate enough and gave me his gloves and an extra shirt to wear to keep going. I took 3 ibuprofen’s after deciding that my other shoe would never come off, and finally got up to keep going.
It was too late to back out now and I knew that I needed to finish. I needed to know what it felt like to cross the finish line of a race of that big of duration. I thought a lot about Silverheels 100 and how badly I had wanted to finish that race before I got lost and timed out at mile 61. I thought about how it was to see the people that I had seen during the race cross the finish line and complete their goal of 100 miles. I thought about what the ranger said to us at the meeting and my reason to finish. I wanted to make my family proud. I wanted to make Darren proud and to run into his arms at the finish line. And I wanted to make myself proud and to prove to myself that I could do it.
We kept going and going. A couple hours later on the last downhill towards the finish line at Vogel State Park, we could hear the roaring crowd at the finish line. I could recognize what I thought was several of my teammates voices and I got excited to see them at the finish. I dashed through the cold creek and looked up to see all of my VT Ultrarunning teammates and Darren at the finish standing with his arms wide open. I ran into his arms and said, “I did it!” It was such a good feeling to come back to my proud team waiting for me and to get to tell them bits and pieces of the day. I am so appreciative to have so many supportive people in my life that believed that I could accomplish this goal. What an adventure it was.
We kept going and going. A couple hours later on the last downhill towards the finish line at Vogel State Park, we could hear the roaring crowd at the finish line. I could recognize what I thought was several of my teammates voices and I got excited to see them at the finish. I dashed through the cold creek and looked up to see all of my VT Ultrarunning teammates and Darren at the finish standing with his arms wide open. I ran into his arms and said, “I did it!” It was such a good feeling to come back to my proud team waiting for me and to get to tell them bits and pieces of the day. I am so appreciative to have so many supportive people in my life that believed that I could accomplish this goal. What an adventure it was.
RESULTS
20th Female
112th Overall
21:42:39
20th Female
112th Overall
21:42:39
All photos except first two and last two are from We Run Race Photography