And I think that was a good thing?

New year, new job

As per usual, the year started out with a surplus of tasty baked goods in my belly, and copious fat around my lean body (AKA, I was “skinny-fat”). And, my mind was on my new, exciting software development job that gave my life more meaning when compared to my previous one.

In terms of how this impacted my lifestyle, I feel like I need to share a belief of mine:

My life is an ecosystem where work, connection, and passion sustain one another. Fulfillment isn’t a balancing act; it’s a harmony between who I am, who I love, and what I create.

In other words, in the beginning of the year, I was patient with my running performance as I allowed my work satisfaction to take more needed space. And with that, my joy for running was sustained. My training began with a modest 30 miles a week and increased to 100 or so about a month later. I held that level of training for about a month before a longer taper, setting my eyes for another attempt at the fastest known time on the C&O.

C&O “redemption”

As much as I love just running for the sake of running, you should know that I’m also a bit of a dreamer. And, I like seeing my big dreams become my reality.

The C&O Towpath is a 185 mile trail that is almost completely flat, easy to either run or bike on, and spans the length of the Potomac River from Cumberland, Maryland to DC. The supported FKT is held by Michael Wardian (who holds records all over the DC area… among other accolades). Also, compared to other ~200 mile events — which can cost literally thousands of dollars to run in — this one was FREE… and was in my backyard (kinda).

I knew I wanted to give this record a go not too long after I moved to Arlington, so I gave my first go on July 4th the previous year and failed after running a bit more than a 3rd of the trail due to the near 90 degree heat and high humidity — I had terrible stomach issues. So in 2025, it was time to give this another go, but this time, during a much cooler time of the year.

On March 22nd at 5:40 am (we started in the morning rather than at night this time to maximize daylight and warmth as opposed to last time in the Summer when we wanted the opposite), we started in Cumberland again.

I had lots of support; my mom and girlfriend Elizabeth cheered and crewed for me via car and my dad biked alongside me occasionally giving me food and drink.

This time around, everything was looking good and fine. It included lots of father/son bonding, lots of cheering and love, beautiful scenery, no issues with fueling, and no chafing issues (which could have ruined the vibe). After 18 hours and 19 minutes, I ran past 100 miles (a new PR, since I think my fastest one was just from running a bit under 24 hours in some backyard ultra). After 24 hours, I had run 128 miles (another PR for me once again). I was feeling great, and I was on record pace.

After 157 miles, I still had a sizable lead on Wardian’s record, showing no signs of slowing down. After a small walking break at 158 miles, my pace began to be slower than Wardian’s average time, but things were definitely okay, since I had built a significant margin of time that would allow me to still get the record if I continued to slow down over the last marathon. Hope remained.

After 163 miles, I entered the familiar part of trail where I had done training before, and I was shuffling. Barely picking my feet off the ground, I was moving at 15 minutes a mile. My legs were STIFF AF.

At mile 166, I took an intentionally extended, stationary break. I lay on the ground.

Ah, this feels good.

After some time, it was time to get back up. My legs were stiff, so my parents helped me put myself on my two sore feet atop of my swollen, red ankles.

I shuffled again, this time at 30 minutes a mile. Slower than walking. I knew if I kept this pace, I would lose the record. Hope was lost.

16 miles from the finish and still on record average pace, I accepted defeat, I called Elizabeth on the phone, telling her it was over, and my mom picked us up just short of mile 169 to drive us back to Arlington for some homemade pesto pasta dinner.

I didn’t reach my goal.

And everything was okay.

Swollen ankles and eyes on Suffolk

Elizabeth needed to help me out of bed for two whole weeks. The C&O attempt put me in a broken state of nearly perpetual red pain. My new goal was to qualify for Big’s by running a stupid amount of miles at Suffolk Backyard Ultra in the UK.

At the time of registering, there were some real big names in the backyard ultra world signed up. My friend Tyler Rocha from Seattle was running in the event with me, and my mom and Elizabeth would crew me! My crew and I were excited about this international event. Elizabeth and I were excited about the vacation as well that we had planned around the event in Amsterdam and in England.

Anyways, this event was two months away, and my ankles still looked like chubby, ripe tomatoes from the gardens of vegetable hell.

I thought to myself:

This backyard ultra looks very flat. I will forgo hill and stair training and just focus on volume, endurance, and speed.

I thought this was a smart move 😉.

Suffolk Backyard Ultra

As the event approached, I came to the realization that a large portion of the big names on the roster were not going to show up. To be honest, this put a damper on my expectations.

Is this going to be competitive enough for me to possibly put up a big yard total? I could only run one yard further than second place after all.

I wasn’t so sure. I was now going into the event with the largest PR of the field. A PR that was short of the minimum to get into the big dance.

…but that didn’t matter. Something much more important played with my mind not long into the event. Something with my butt.

Not even a day into the event, my glutes felt like crap. A truly new experience I hadn’t had in any other backyard event. And it was demoralizing. But I continued to run and cross my fingers. I had fun running and chatting with Tyler and the other charming folks in the United Kingdom.

I DNF’d the event after 36 yards — 28 yards short from my best. Despite having a high-executing crew who did all the right things, I failed.

Why did this happen? After some reflection, I realized that I didn’t do the stairs and hill training that I normally had, and that was to blame. It was hard on me. This was my chance to get into Big’s, and I felt that my lack of focused training had ruined it.

What was next? I didn’t know.

A summer of “what am I doing?”

The summer was weird. My main goal for the year was to go to Big’s in October (and win 🙃). But that realistically looked completely out the window. During this time, the minimum qualification standard was at ~83 yards or so, and my ticket was at 64 from USA National Champs the previous year. There was no way I was getting in.

My backup plan was to compete in my dad’s backyard ultra (Andy’s) which was the week after Big’s, and that was harder for me to get all that excited about (because there was a much lesser chance I’d get to find my limit). So I didn’t feel like training as much over the summer and early fall.

This was the first summer in a while where I didn’t have a big running goal planned. Instead, I just sort of ran around aimlessly.

I felt that this lack of excitement in running bled into my work and relationship energy. I had fallen out of a high-ambition, high-output routine. It caused me to have some lower points at both work and in conversation with my partner. “What am I training for?” turned into “What am I doing?” across the other aspects of my life that I held dear.

As Big’s approached, the standard dropped lower and lower. 83 turned to 80, 80 turned to 74, then 70… Elite backyard athletes from around the world ran into visa issues, travel predicaments, and an assortment of other obstacles that forced them to not accept their rightful spot at the event. The standard continued to drop and drop.

When I saw that they may be reaching out to an athlete who was on the waitlist with yardage in the upper 60s, I thought something while I was at work less than two months from the event.

Is there a chance I am going to get into Big’s?

I reached out to Ryan Metivier (former USA teammate who was a spot above me on the waitlist) and we had a brief exchange:

Me: Hey, is there a tiny chance either of us get into Big’s? Not sure if you’ve been looking…

Ryan: Yes, I have been looking at that list and just looked at the updated list this morning!

We chatted back and forth with shared enthusiasm and curiosity.

Some time went by…

About 6 weeks from the big day, I got the email. I WAS IN — Ryan and I both got in actually.

I was ECSTATIC. I achieved one of my goals for the year! I had purpose now!

But also, I was a bit… horrified.

The remaining weeks and days dwindled as Big’s drew closer and closer, and something remained a bit deeper in my mind. Like a ripple on still water, there was something that occasionally disturbed my persistent excitement for the event.

I barely got in — 2nd to the bottom of the at-large list to be exact. I felt a bit like an impostor… especially after a less-than-stellar performance at Suffolk.

Also, I was going to compete against the best backyard ultra athletes from around the world… but then again, a significant number could not make it to the event. Often for reasons out of their control.

And for those reasons, I felt like I was going to be running with a couple of bittersweet motivations whether I liked it or not:

1. Impostor syndrome for barely making it onto the roster

2. Responsibility for performing well for those who could not make it to the event

With that weight on my shoulders, I knew I couldn’t show up soft — things felt out of balance.

The world championship is right around the corner, and my legs feel like McChickens

Big’s may sound like a small deal to the layman, but it’s a BIG FLIPPING DEAL to me. Whether I get into the event or not, to me, it’s always the biggest event of the year. And this time, I got in… by the skin of my teeth. It was paramount that I performed my best.

A bit before that time, my training was rather lackluster throughout almost the whole summer. I was routinely running barely more than 100 kilometers a week with no real significant workouts to note. BUT when I got the hunch that I may get into Big’s, I boosted my training to 115 miles a week and did a marathon training run on the C&O. In the off-chance I got into the event, I needed to add some muscles to the legs.

THEN I found out I got in. So I ran some bigger weeks — 150+ miles a week. I did some 40 mile tempo runs, did some stair sessions on the Exorcist steps, and did weight training for my legs at the gym. This all banished handfuls of excess fat from the Earth, never to return until Big’s was completed (I think I lost somewhere around 15 pounds the months leading to the event). I paced my dad for the last 100 kilometers of the Grindstone 100 for my biggest training week, amounting to 36 hours on foot, ~18K feet of elevation gain, and 151 miles. I was feeling powerful. I was ready.

I tapered the final month of training and still kept my strength and stair training in check. I was ready for a barn burner in Tennessee.

Despite the rapid training build up to a brief training block, I got lean, and I was fit.

…I was feeling rather optimistic, and I routinely walked through the goals I had in chronological order:

• PR? Definitely.

• 300 miles? Easy.

• 80+ hours, likely solidifying a spot on team USA for ‘26? Probably.

• 4th night? I think so…

• 400 miles? …I could see it.

• 100 yards and more? Who knows…

big’s with a lowercase b

I didn’t run how I dreamed.

So what happened? Well, the show started, I was towards the back with some of the big dogs — don’t ask me how — like Phil, Harvey, the Japanese elites… feeling fresh, feeling fine (killing it), and just having a blast.

During yard 7, my teammate from last year and tent-mate Ron Wireman fell on the trail just past the communal pee-break spot with an already messed up ankle. I slowed down and ran with him to try to motivate him to finish the yard strong. To keep his chin up. But, I could tell things weren’t right. I could read his body language that things were done for him, despite him being extremely far from his PR of 74 yards.

He dropped out. It sucked for him, and it sucked for me. I knew he wanted to go far, and I knew that on a better day, he could do something truly spectacular. Now, during the first day of the event, I was the only member still running in our shared tent.

It was hot. I was having a hard time, but Elizabeth was crewing me and kept me feeling great.

The heat persisted even through the start of the first night, and we knew I was losing lots of salt.

There was news that the weather would be abysmal that first night, and it was truly terrible. It was hot, and it was rainy. It rained, I chafed, it rained some more, and I chafed some more. My crew and I were in a situation. I think lots of runners and crew were in situations.

I was looking forward to getting back on the trail (as usual, I love when you get to go from one monotonous terrain to another in some backyard events), but then word was out that this may not be guaranteed.

The sun came up, and it was still raining. Laz announced that we would remain on the road — the trail was too muddy and dangerous, and chances were great that some runners would exit the event early after a fall. This was a sensible decision that he made, but I still did not desire being on the road. That’s where my head was at, but also, it was where my body was at.

On the second day, maybe 24 hours into the event, I noticed that I had a sharp pain along my IT-band.

Huh, weird. This will probably go away as my other pains do in backyards.

I ran some more and finished the yard, telling my crew about this little hiccup.

Ron and my sister Mary massaged the leg where it mattered, they bandaged my pains with compression sleeves, and they fueled my hope with words of encouragement and delicious foods.

Conversations with the international runners and former USA teammates caused healthy distraction to the elephant in the room, and it allowed me to still have fun.

But, I ran yard after yard, and the pain continued to be painful despite our efforts.

What the F***?!

I was angry. I was baffled. I was sad. I was a bit… embarrassed. This injury was something I never had before, and I was a fraction into the journey of my smallest goal of getting a new personal best. I felt like all the training I put in was being bottle-necked by something trivial. Something dumb.

As I continued to run on the road throughout the second day and then the second night, this stupid injury plainly just slowed me down. It forced me into a weak stride, and my persistent chafing momentarily diverted my attention (by the way, chafing was no big deal in my head, since I ran 60 yards at Queeny with some of the worst chafing known to Dave. I knew chafing was not the be-all end-all).

While listening to the playlist my friends made me for this adventure, I continued to adjust my shorts around my lube-covered inner-thighs and hobbled through the darkness.

During yard 43, the muscle on my left quadricep felt like it was genuinely messed up. It even looked misshapen. My left upper-leg looked puffy, red, and just… weird. It felt like the muscle was bruised all over.

After the turn-around on the road, I looked at my watch. It was going to be close.

Climbing up the final hill, my crippled leg and I missed the start of the next yard. I timed out, and I was out of the event. The big one of the year.

Two years later, I might get another shot, but it’s getting harder to qualify as the standard consistently increases. I can count on that.

P.S. Thank you Mom, Dad, Elizabeth, and Mary for crewing me at this event!

Hold on, I had Rhabdo?

After Big’s I was running through my injury — as per usual — but it just got worse and worse. Usually motion is lotion (so to speak), but this time it was actively working against me.

I spoke with my sports doctor friend while spectating Andy’s, and their ad-hoc diagnosis after some quick analysis was that this was unusual and did point to a typical IT-band injury. They advised to take a break from running and to see a doctor.

So, I decided to end my run streak of 4 years and 1 week (where I had run at least 1 mile every day). It was a tough decision, but my goal of running healthily to my heart’s content was greater than a gimmicky run challenge.

I went to a sports doctor during a scheduled appointment to get an official diagnosis. After an x-ray ruled out a stress fracture, they grew concerned about the severity of the muscle swelling. They put me on crutches and referred me to a nearby location to get an MRI.

Hobbling over to the facility at night while on my props under my armpits, I checked in. After a bunch of loud beeping sounds over the course of 30-odd minutes — which made me feel like I was in a futuristic rave from the netherworld — the examination of my weird leg was complete, and I patiently waited for my results to come in.

The official diagnosis was a localized version of Rhabdo:

“Rhabdomyolysis (Rhabdo) is a condition that causes your muscles to break down (disintegrate), which leads to muscle death. When this happens, toxic components of your muscle fibers enter your circulation system”…

“This dangerous muscle condition can result from overexertion, trauma… Common signs and symptoms of rhabdomyolysis are weak muscles, muscle stiffness, muscle pain”…

“Rhabdomyolysis can be life-threatening”… - clevelandclinic.org

My mind was blown, and I honestly still cannot believe it (since Rhabdo is life threatening). But, this diagnosis made me feel slightly better that now I have a nice, succinct name for the outcome of my failure at Big’s and reason for the end of my run streak: Rhabdo.

So how did this happen? Well, I think there were some things at play:

1. A sudden, substantial volume ramp up and sustain in mileage from 60 to 150 miles a week over the course of a couple weeks

2. A quick introduction and persistence of weight training before the event

3. Heat during Big’s and a lack of fully understanding my hydration and electrolyte demands

4. And, perhaps accumulated fatigue from an ongoing run-streak of 4 years… but, eh, I doubt it to be honest.

Alright, so I know what to avoid next time. But how was I going to recover and "prepare” for the next big adventure that was a month away? The doctor gave the following advice:

• Hydrate a lot.

• Do not take NSAIDs.

• Remain on crutches and do not run at all until the injury fully healed.

In total, I had about 1 month of “training” before the final running endeavor of the year: Hellgate.

Closing out the year with Hellgate

Alright, so in truth, I was still running on my injury while training. In fact, it wasn’t until after recovering from Hellgate that I could say with 100% confidence that the quad looked and felt… normal again.

Okay, so Hellgate 100K++ is a 66.6 mile race I have done now for the last 4 years. It has now come to be the formalized running endeavor I do each year which I just do “for fun” (and expect nothing more). As a bonus, it’s a Western States qualifier which keeps me on track for a possible entry into the race 10 years from now when I’m approaching the ripe 100-miler age of 40 years old when I have more ultrarunning experience under my legs.

It allows me to burn some of the excess fuel I ate while recovering from whatever backyard I ran in October, and it allows me to free up some space for the holiday cookies.

This was the first year I ran the race that was not classified as a Sissy Gate. Dr. Horton says this since the weather was worse than otherwise. There was an ample amount of snow, ice, and cold to make people groan a little before the race started at midnight.

I finished the race with happiness and content. It was my slowest time on the course, but I didn’t care one bit.

P.S. Thank you to my Mom and recent fiancée Elizabeth for getting me through the race with a smile on my face! Love you both.

A review: Was this year beautifully bad?

Here are my goals I wrote in this very blog last year:

• ❌ C&O supported FKT (around March?)

  » Failed it, 16 miles short… but while on record pace!

• ✅ Qualify for Big’s (at Suffolk Backyard Ultra in June)

  » Well, I qualified, but just not at Suffolk.

• ❌ Win Big’s 🙃

  » LOL.

• ❌ Keep running every day (I’ll hit 4 years of running every day in October!)

  » I ended it at 4 years and 1 week, but then I started a new streak that’s now at about 60 days.

• ✅ Have fun at Hellgate if I run it

  » It was a blast as always.

• ❌ Jarmans 24 hour 100 miler?

  » Didn’t fit in during the holiday season.

• ❌ DO NOT GET ANY INJURIESSSSSSS

  » 🤕

As you can see, I somehow got into Big’s and happily enjoyed Hellgate once more… and I failed all my other goals over the 4,000 miles I ran over the year. But, this only says half the picture.

My failures in running pursuits were lessons (I know this is cliche). Here are the lessons:

• STRENGTH! Suffolk taught me that a flatter backyard ultra still requires strength! Actually prioritize strength training. Similarly, don’t take the stair sessions for granted. Keep doing these! Side note: I probably increased my strength training a bit too much before Big’s. This needed to be embedded into my routine longer before the big event.

• Listen to the body. Based on the whole Rhabdo thing from Big’s (and how good I felt after taking the time away from running), it’s worth it to end a run streak if I see that my injury is getting worse.

• Balance is critical. The extended time after Suffolk when I didn’t have anything I was that passionate about to train for made me feel generally… worse. Actively pursuing goals I’m passionate about is paramount to my emotional health. If I don’t have them, it can bleed into the wellbeing of my other avenues of my life. On the flip-side, prioritizing the health of my relationships and work positively impacts my running.

• The “Pee Break” puzzle: For years now, I have had issues with — I don’t know how else to say this — needing to take pee breaks too often during running events. I hate it. I need to figure this thing out once and for all.

I hate having to pee.

This may seem like no big deal. I’ve heard the following time and time again which made me brush this off as no big deal:

That’s a good thing, Dave. That means you’re hydrated!

But while annoying in any event, peeing multiple times is particularly problematic in backyard ultras. As it goes on, I get slower and slower. Time becomes ever more sacred. Taking 2-4 pee breaks a loop can easily amount to almost two minutes when doing things properly to prevent chafing.

Two minutes may sound insignificant, but that means for me, a 55-minute loop could be 57 minutes, and a 58-minute loop could be 60 (which means I timed out, by the way).

Through tinkering with different hydration/sodium intake strategies throughout the years, increasing my salt consumption over time, I have been led to the working theory that I require significantly more electrolytes than the typical athlete… but I still do not know for certain.

Because of this, it is part of my new goals for the next year. To figure this thing out.

Here are my goals for 2026!

• Get a sweat test done to figure out what my electrolyte requirements are.

• Get a new backyard ultra PR (65+)

• Qualify for the backyard USA team. I’m signed up for 2 different silver ticket events: Capital at the end of March, Ode to Laz in mid-july.

• Finish C&O attempt #3 (if the occasion reveals itself, weather permits, etc.).

• Be the last one standing at Big’s national champs.

• Hellgate finish #5! “Chicken on a stick” this year.

• Keep my new running-streak (of now ~60 days) alive.

• No injuries.

How realistic are these? Realistic enough. The ecosystem is healthy, and I’m ready to go. Happy 2026!

-Dave

It felt like I had ropes tied from my butt to my knees, so tightly that my run became a shuffle. After one gradual downhill mile on the course, I looked at my watch. Fifteen minutes. I was going to be too slow to finish the 37th yard in time. After over 150 miles, I felt quite good, but my glutes were too sore, and I think I may have had my training to blame.

After running 64 yards at the U.S. National Championships in 2024 and experiencing a "fiery" sensation in my legs that caused me to exit the race, I was looking forward to another backyard event to push past this limit. I also knew that 64 yards would be much too short to get into the World Championships in 2025. From looking at the at-large list, it was clear that about 82+ yards would make the cut. I thought I could make this standard, and I also knew it would take two runners to make this happen.

After perusing the 2025 backyard ultras that would be competitive enough to get there, it looked like I had to choose between the following races:

• Dead Cow Gully

• Capital

• Suffolk

Attracting four runners who had gone past 100 yards and a long list of other competitive backyarders, Dead Cow looked to be the most competitive race. It had also gone to 102 yards before. But it did not align well with my schedule, and it was hard to justify the price of traveling to Australia for this race.

Capital made a lot of intuitive sense. Living in D.C., it was as close as I could get to running in my own backyard, and it had gone 75 yards before. But with a less backyard-resume-rich field than usual, a history of bad weather, and its yards never going into the 80s, it felt more like a gamble (side note: it ended up going 43 yards with Scott Snell winning).

Suffolk had gone into the 80s in three separate years, the course was quite flat, the weather looked quite good each year, and some of the world’s best were signed up for it, such as Lukasz Wrobel, John Stocker, and Claire Bannwarth.

Something I look for when signing up for any running event is personal excitement. "Am I excited for this?" I ask myself. If not, I find less motivation in training and the event itself. I want running to be fun, and I want the event to be the reward for my hard work in training. This went into my decision to choose the race. After assessing the pros and cons of all the races, I decided that Suffolk was the best for me, and it had the added advantage of being my first international vacation with my girlfriend (which we were truly excited about).

After failing my second FKT attempt at the C&O Canal Trail—this time making it 168/185 miles (the first attempt was about 72 miles)—I did a training block that closely resembled the one before I won with 60 yards at Queeny Backyard in 2024. I peaked at just over 150 miles a week and did two 40-mile runs at about 7:30/mile pace. Then I had a generous three-week taper into the race. The main difference was that because Suffolk was nowhere near as hilly as Queeny, I decided to forgo the hill and stair training and focus on running on flat terrain. Training went well, and I felt strong and confident.

Towards the end of the block, I became more interested in and knowledgeable about who was running at Suffolk. First, I learned that Lukasz was not running due to his recent 116-yard effort. Next, I learned Claire would likely not run in the race due to injury. Lastly, the week of the race, I learned that John was not going to run due to not being in sufficient physical condition.

Normally, as a race gets closer, my excitement increases substantially! But with each piece of information I learned about who was not attending Suffolk, my excitement for the race unfortunately decreased, and so did my confidence that the race would go far enough for me to qualify for Big’s. One of the scenarios that kept creeping into my head at night was that the race would end around 60 yards, and I would not be able to continue further, being the last one standing. Though being the last one standing obviously means winning, in my mind it isn’t the goal. Winning a backyard does not motivate me. Pushing my limits does. Qualifying for Big’s does.

After a pleasant beginning of our vacation in Amsterdam, Oxford, and then Cambridge, my girlfriend, my mom, and I showed up to Thetford Forest the morning before the race would start at noon. It was a little rainy, but the temperature seemed perfect. Normally I might have a little nervous energy, but this time I had absolutely none. Though my personal goal gets higher and higher, with each backyard I do, I become less and less nervous. I become more and more calm.

How was the course? The course began with a gradual downhill on a gravel path that lasted a bit over a mile. Next, there was about a half-mile long uphill climb on a dirt track that, though not very steep, was in my opinion not very runnable at all. It was very rare that I saw anyone do anything more than a power walk here. This part of the course was quite pleasant, but if there’s anything to blame for the course being slower than it could be, it’s this part. After this, there was a mixture of wide gravel and dirt/grass for the remainder of the course. This was virtually completely flat. There were plenty of 90-degree turns that would mix up the repetition. After lots of left and right turns, the final stretch was a very wide, straight one-mile gravel path that was sloped downward on both sides. So ironically, even though the path was very wide, I would see almost everyone run straight down the center of it in a single-file line.

Due to the structure of this specific race, I realized quite quickly that this would be harder mentally than usual. Most backyards start in the morning (between about 7 and 9 a.m.), but this one started at noon. Because of this, it always felt like I had completed more yards than I actually had due to the time of day. Additionally, since the race took place further north than the States, the sun would rise between 4 and 5 a.m. This once again made it feel like I had completed more yards overnight than I actually had.

Something I loved about this experience was that my friend from Seattle, Tyler Rocha, came and ran the race with me. He’s a consistent, friendly energy that I got to run beside often in the race. We were the only two Americans in the race, and it was always funny when people were surprised to hear our accents.

Sometime during the first night, Tyler began to experience lots of chafing issues and some mental struggle, and I would often talk to him, offering any advice I could throughout the race.

When yard 24 came around, just as I predicted, the number of runners in the 375-person race began to sharply dwindle. With a relatively small number of 28 runners still in the race after 24 hours, it confirmed my belief that the number of runners who start a backyard event does not necessarily correlate with the number of yards the race will go.

With each following yard, it seemed like large groups of people were dropping right and left. After 30 yards, only 10 people completed the next.

At around this point, I noticed that my glutes were getting much more sore than usual. It was something I had never experienced before in any ultramarathon. However, I was still running quite well.

Any stomach issues? I basically had no issues at all for the entirety of the race. My nutrition plan was doing wonders, and my energy levels felt very high.

Any chafing issues? I had absolutely zero chafing issues the whole race. I attribute this to using T8 Commandos + Tri-slide anti-chafe spray, which I applied every three or four yards.

Any sleep issues? Before the race, I was getting plenty of sleep. Even though I did not sleep at all during the first night of Suffolk, I was feeling well rested. The second day I was feeling more rested than I think I ever had in any other backyard. However, with my fatigue from my sore glutes, I took caffeine much earlier than usual (perhaps sometime early into the second day)—at Big’s I had my first caffeine after 50 yards.

So after completing 34 yards, Tyler pulled the plug due to unprecedented chafing and mental struggle.

It was down to just six runners. Of the last five companions, I mostly talked to Jan Voorspoels, Tobias Taylor, and Andy Imms. They were all running right around my pace, and were all social and kind. Though Nima Javaheri and Nicholas Cutts were also in the race at this point, they were often pretty far ahead of me besides the first mile or so. During this time, I found them to be either just out of earshot or more focused and quiet.

Halfway through yard 36, I could feel that my glutes were seizing up sharply. They just didn’t have the range they needed to move at the pace I desired. After a lot of shuffling and walking, I thought I was going to time out. But after 56 and a half minutes, I finished the yard, went to my tent, and applied some emergency cream on my glutes designed to get them to relax. I started yard 37, and it was just down to five now. Nicholas Cutts had dropped. But I was moving so slow. I tried my best to pick up some speed. Then Tobias passed me at about a half mile, and I was alone. I looked at my watch after about one mile, and it read 15 minutes. I knew I would not finish the loop in time.

I called my mom and told her that I had turned around and was walking back to the start. She was shocked. My girlfriend was on her way back to the Airbnb we rented and was preparing for some rest so she could be awake on the third day of crewing the race. After my mom relayed the information about my quitting the race, she was shocked as well. This was not the plan.

My crew and I met in the dark of the night on the course, and I walked back to the start line. Everyone was surprised to see me there. My race was over. My goal severely unmet.

After showering, sleeping, eating, and returning to the race, we saw the race begin to come to a close. Only Nima and Jan began yard 49, and I could see Nima dealing with leg pain and limping a bit. Nima was the best in Switzerland and already had a spot at Big’s due to being his nation’s champion last October. His best was 59, and I was worried he’d be short of his goal. Only Jan finished after 49 yards and looked quite fresh and triumphant.

Though Suffolk did not have a field of runners that looked to go the distance to qualify for Big’s, if I was still in the race with Jan, I think the race may have gone far enough. Jan looked quite good. I also learned after the race that I was not the only one with a huge goal: already qualified for Big’s through being a national champ, Nima had a new goal of breaking through the 100-yard barrier. Had I known this before the race, it’s possible my confidence would have been higher that the race would go really far. I thought that since he was already qualified for Big’s, he would not have as much desire or pressure to go the distance.

All this being said, one thing is clear to me: My glutes were undertrained, and something needs to change.

So this was my shot to get into Big’s in 2025, and I did not make it. So what’s next?

For a few days after the race while touring London with my girlfriend, I was actively thinking about what was to come. What was I excited for? What races do I want to do? I originally only planned for one thing: making it into Big’s in 2025, and now that was no longer a reality. Now there was space in my brain to recalibrate.

After considering point-to-point races, timed races, FKTs, and backyards, I decided the following:

• I want to make the Backyard U.S.A. team in 2026.

• I still really want to complete this C&O FKT in Maryland/D.C. since it’s one of my goals for the year.

• Running in Andy’s Backyard Ultra (my dad & sister’s race) this year for fun seems like a good idea – also, I’ll be attending the event regardless (last year I watched the race).

• Maybe trying out the W&OD 45-mile FKT in Arlington, VA, would be fun.

• Timed races seem really appealing, but the travel and time allocation for them don’t seem to fit well for the remainder of the year. I may have to look at these again later.

• A lot of point-to-point races are either quite expensive or just don’t appeal to me for some odd reason.

So what race(s) to compete in to make the U.S.A. team in 2026? I’m really just looking at the silver ticket races:

• 9/27/2025 | Babbit's | Flagstaff, Arizona

• 11/22/2025 | Summitt | Marble Falls, Texas

• 2/28/2026 | Queeny | Eureka, Missouri

• 3/28/2026 | Capital | Lorton, Virginia

• 4/24/2026 | Banana Slug | Wilsonville, Oregon

• 7/18/2026 | Ode to Laz | Holly, Michigan

• 8/15/2026 | Tartarus | Spokane, Washington

I eventually came around to eliminating Babbit’s and Summit from contention since I don’t think I have the time to do them this year considering the travel time and that I already took a good amount of time off for Suffolk. I then considered doing Queeny again: I already have a spot from winning the race in 2024, and I actually quite enjoyed the course (though it is difficult)… but the big problem is that it’ll end up being less than a month before the race I really want to do: Capital.

Capital is a no-brainer! My only real complaint from the race was that it was during a pretty hot time of the year, and now it’s moved to a much cooler time of year: March! Travel time is super convenient as I live in the D.C. area, and I love basically everything about the race. It will be my second time attending, and I think it may go very far this time around, which is always a big bonus for a backyard race.

What if Capital ends up being short of my goal of making it on the team? Banana Slug will be too close to Capital, so I’m really just looking at Ode and Tartarus. Due to travel convenience, I think it’s very likely I’ll be doing Ode regardless of how Capital goes.

To reiterate, I’m looking at doing the following:

• Take some time to build a solid foundation through the whole summer.

• Make an attempt at the W&OD FKT (likely September).

• Compete in Andy’s (October).

• Make a third attempt at the C&O FKT (September or November).

• Run in Hellgate 100K if I get accepted to the race (December).

• Build a solid block of training for Capital (Jan–March).

• Compete in Capital (March).

• Build another solid block of training for Ode (April-July).

• Compete in Ode to Laz (July).

• Hopefully qualify for Big’s & thus train for it (July-October).

So that’s my plan! Still looking at doing more backyards (I still think it’s the “Golden Age of the Backyard Ultra”). But Suffolk taught me a valuable lesson that I had previously taken for granted: I should never show up to a backyard ultra without deliberate strength training for my glutes (and all leg muscles for that matter).

Until next time.

-Dave

Preparing to get into Big’s

The year started, and I was running around Arlington, VA. The first week was about 60 miles, and each week, my mileage increased to be a bit more than the last. Once mid January came around, I was running in the snow. Along the C&O Canal trail at night, I would occasionally be spooked by an independent or small group of skiers.

Once in February, my weekly mileage hit 160. My go-to workouts were running 40 mile tempo runs on the C&O and 1-1.5 hours of doing Exorcist stair repeats.

After a 3 week taper, I was ready for Queeny Backyard Ultra. Here, I shot my shot to qualify for Big’s.

Queeny Backyard Ultra

I got to the race venue in St. Louis, MO with my parents and my sister Mary. The weather was quite nice and we walked the course together. My sister and I were excited for our runs in the backyard.

The morning of the race, I met some familiar faces and countless faces I did not know. After race check-in, I was all ready to go!

This was the first backyard that I tried my hands at being vegan, and it seemed to work well.

At hour 36, the race came down to the town favorite Cody Eubanks and me. Neither of us really seemed to be showing any signs of slowing down, and I was confident that the race would last a whole bunch longer.

It was dark out on the third night, and Cody and I attempted to talk to one another. We both struggled to communicate, but we were moving well. I was hallucinating quite a bit, but I still was optimistic about reaching 72+ hours.

About half way through yard 60, I could no longer see Cody’s headlamp behind me. That was the last yard.

I finished Queeny Backyard, and I made it to Big’s!

Hitting a low point

After the backyard, my dad, our friends, and I ran on a nearby trail near the Appalachian trail. On the way down the mountain from this slow shuffle, I felt a sharp pain in my knee. This knee injury put me out of much running for over 6 weeks.

Once my knee was feeling a bit better, I weighed 160 pounds, 15 pounds more than I did at Queeny. I had struggled with my diet due to being injured and not having a short term goal to shoot for.

I planned to make a supported FKT attempt on the C&O Towpath. This encouraged me to hop on my newly purchased Zwift setup and get some biking in while I recovered from my injured knee.

During some decent training of 100 mile weeks, I found myself face first in the mud on a trail in D.C. I pulled myself up and quickly recognized a familiar feeling of more movement than I wanted in my ribs on the center of my chest.

I could no longer breathe well and my ribs hurt too much to run, so my mileage went down hill once again. Since I cracked my ribs before, I knew it would take 6 weeks to heal. Just in time for the C&O.

C&O FKT attempt

My ribs healed literally the day of my attempt. My parents and I set out to the west end of the C&O on the night of July 4th. I started my run, and my dad biked beside me, occasionally passing me food and drink for fuel. Every once in a while, we would meet with my mom and she would cheer us on and resupply.

I struggled.

The temperature was just under 90 degrees (at night), and it was very humid. I just couldn’t digest the food I was consuming, and after many restroom breaks later, my run was coming to an end. In the morning, I had lost all energy at 72 miles (still on record pace).

We celebrated this failure by showering at a hotel, eating some ice cream, and eating at a diner near where we finished.

Training for Big’s

After this C&O failure, I actually came out of it feeling quite fit. No injuries. I was ready to get going and train for the race of my life.

This training block was bigger than it normally would be (about 3 months total), and I planned on having a longer taper than usual (4 weeks). After many 100-170 mile weeks, I was ready for one more big week. Squeezing in running whenever I could, I ran a 211 mile week 1 month before Big’s.

I went out for an easy run on Monday. I realized I then had plantar fasciitis.

Would it heal before Big’s? I had to stay optimistic. But it started by decreasing my mileage to almost nothing for a week and hopping on the bike again.

A bit over 2 weeks later, and my plantar seemed to be completely healed! No one I talked to about this injury really seemed to believe it was completely healed like I did, but I just had to trust my body.

I put in some “normal” taper weeks before the race, and I felt all ready to go! I also had lost all of my excess weight from April when I was 160 pounds. I entered Big’s at 128 pounds.

Big’s

Seeing the start line for Big’s, I felt that the venue was just as magical as I dreamed and as I saw on YouTube and photos. That being said, the venue felt a lot smaller than I imagined for some reason. I think videos and photos make the place seem more spacious than it really is.

I had a blast at Big’s, and ended up completing 64 yards. It was substantially shorter than what I hoped to get, but I’m proud of what my team and I accomplished.

After the race and showering at our hotel, I returned to Laz’s race to cheer on the other U.S.A. runners. I was blown away to see my teammates still running after 3 full days and 300 miles of running! I wanted to be out there with them.

Recovering

I left the race feeling extremely eager to go further and requalify for Big’s, this time for the individual world championship race. I pretty much immediately signed up for the competitive, flat backyard in the U.K.: Suffolk Backyard Ultra. However, it would need to start with getting myself healed.

After Big’s, I felt really quite low energy. More than that, my knee was injured again for the second time of the year.

I spent much of this time after Big’s just kind of relaxing and resting.

A couple weeks later, and I started running somewhat normal mileage again. I needed to get my running normal-ish so I could run in my last race of the year.

Hellgate

For my 3rd run at Hellgate 100K++ in mid December, I decided I was going to just have a good time. I didn’t really put in that much training for it, and I just wanted to reward myself for getting through a big year filled with both running and non-running goals.

Hellgate ended up being a blast. My previous races at Hellgate had issues. During the first one, I got lost when I was in 4th place halfway through the race and bonked when I reunited with the trail. During the second one, I finished quite decently, but I pooped 6 times. On this third race, I finished with no issues and with a time that was the average of my previous runs.

Summary

Here was my checklist I made during last year’s report:

• ✅ Qualify for the USA team for the backyard ultra satellite champs (Did it!)

• ✅ I don’t know, keep running every day I guess… I’m over 800 days into this fad (Easy peasy)

• ❌ Go after that Jarmans 24 hour 100 miler again? (Didn’t have the time)

• ❌ Hellgate PR if I get to race it? (Didn’t put in the training, so I opted to just run it for fun)

• ❌ Don’t get injured, PLEASE. (I messed up my knee, cracked my ribs, got plantar fasciitis, then messed up my knee again)

Despite not achieving many of those goals, this was a really successful year for me. I achieved a lot of big non-running goals. But, since I don’t think anyone’s here to see those non-running goals, here’s some other running things I accomplished:

• Ran over 1000 days in a row (I’m now on day 1174)

• Ran over 4,700 miles this year

• Ran through and healed myself during 4 injuries

• Ran a new weekly training mileage best of 211 miles

• Got a new backyard ultra PR 2 times! 60 at Queeny and 64 at Big’s

• Ran a new PR of 70 reps of the Exorcist steps in one session.

2025 goals

Here’s my running-related goals for 2025!

• C&O supported FKT (around March?)

• Qualify for Big’s (at Suffolk Backyard Ultra in June)

• Win Big’s 🙃

• Keep running every day (I’ll hit 4 years of running every day in October!)

• Have fun at Hellgate if I run it

• Jarmans 24 hour 100 miler?

• DO NOT GET ANY INJURIESSSSSSS

Stating the obvious, winning Big’s is a grossly ambitious goal (considering I’m not even qualified for the race yet), but who cares.

Backyard ultras are still where my heart is, and I don’t see that changing any time soon at all.

Wishing everyone a happy 2025!

-Dave

It was during some time with my family in late 2020 – Covid time – that my Dad and I were watching this documentary on YouTube about a woman named Maggie Guterl winning a race in a guy’s backyard in Tennessee – a world championship last person standing running event called “Big’s Backyard Ultra”. In 2019, she was the last person standing after 60 hours and 250 miles.

So, my dad and I discovered backyard ultras, and we agreed that they seemed neat.

I’ll go to Big’s one day… I thought to myself.

Since 2020, the even years of Big’s backyard Ultra are “team” events. Instead of 75 runners from around the world competing in Big’s backyard, 50+ countries, with 15 runners each, compete simultaneously at their own local backyard race, with Team USA running in Big’s Backyard in Tennessee. Each Backyard team’s score is based on the total number of yards run by each team member. 2024 was one of those team years.

I qualified for the race by winning a “silver ticket” race: Queeny Backyard Ultra in St. Louis, Missouri in March of 2024. There is some guilt when winning a qualification race, since the second place runner (the assist) barely misses out, and you are to blame. Thankfully, my assist in that race, Cody Eubanks, made the team by performing well enough in the United States over the 2 year qualification window: he had run 59 yards.

Training was going well. I had some big mileage: a bunch of 130-150 mile weeks, a 170 and then a 211 mile week. Some of those weeks included run-commuting to and from work along a 10 mile route, a whole bunch of 20 mile runs, a 40 and a 45 mile run, and the occasional session of stair repeats.

Then one day I went for a morning run, and felt a sudden burst of sharp pain in my heel. I had plantar pain, and it was 4 weeks until the big race.

I jumped straight into cycling on Zwift in my apartment living room for a week, only running one mile a day to maintain my nearly 3 year running streak. My heel hurt so bad, I didn’t know what to do. It hurt so bad to run. Walking felt terrible. I felt broken, and I was panicking. But, after one week of cycling, icing, ibuprofen, stretching, and hardly any running, my plantar fasciitis seemed to be completely gone.

Unfortunately for my positive-outlook-hungry-brain, no one I talked to about this quite believed me that it was completely healed. And that made sense. I had an injury, and it was the type known to linger for a very long time. But, the plantar fasciitis seemed to have left the building. It came and went over the course of one week.

My only remaining fear was that it would somehow reintroduce itself on a training run or during a yard at Big’s.

We were allowed no more than two crew members at Big’s. I decided that my sister Mary and my dad Rick were going to take the role of Dave’s crew! They were always excellent, and they struck a good balance between being a loving-family-person-”I-love-you-Dave” and tough-coach-“Dave-you-can-do-this-don’t-quit-dude.”

Though she couldn’t be part of my onsite crew, my mom was able to be my “virtual crew” member. She stayed at a hotel north of Bell Buckle, kept up with the race by watching the live stream, shopped for food, did laundry, kept in touch with my crew by phone, and helped my dad and sister with transportation when they were clear of the venue. It seemed to really work well, and my mom – who has a love-hate relationship with backyard ultras – enjoyed this role of being close, but not too close, to this crazy event.

With about a minute till go time, I walked up to the starting coral with other USA runners. I was excited to see the familiar faces of runners that I had met at previous backyards, and those that were new! We each wore a sort of jersey with our “seed” on our shirt. I was number 10.

We took a picture together.

Next, we put our hands in the center of a circle prepping for a pump-up speech and a cheer. Harvey led the speech… something like: “Let’s do this! We are a team!” (Don’t quote me, I don’t really remember). Then we all said “U! S! A!”

The “Jeer Leaders” chanted something not so cheery, then we were off.

The day course began with a little half mile out and back on the road by Laz’s place. You basically run off of Laz’s driveway, take a sharp left turn, run down a kinda steep hill, run a u-turn about a Portuguese “virar” spray painted on the road, run/walk back up, then turn back into Laz’s driveway. Then the trail course started.

Big’s is considered to be a pretty tough backyard course. Taking foot onto the trail, I was mentally prepared for a challenge. There were some big rocks, some technical footing, and many hills. Running behind others, I put trust in their strategies.

It quickly became apparent that the veterans at Big’s did not walk all of the uphills as people normally would in backyard ultras; there were hills long and short that we ran. When the first loop was over, I finished in about 55 and a half minutes. 4 minutes to go until the next yard. It was confirmed that walking all of the uphills would not likely be a winning strategy. There would not be enough margin for error.

I would see my teammates trip on rocks, roots, and little tree stumps, then I would fall as well. No matter the experience on the course, people were stumbling left and right. Once when I fell, I received some gashes in my hands. Not the most forgiving course.

Coming back into the tent, my crew fed me and prepped me for the next yard using my plan/spreadsheet. Since Queeny Backyard went so well, there were only some small differences from the plan: more frequent shorts lubrication (every 3 yards instead of every 4 or 5 yards) and more sodium across the loops (I got many cramps at Queeny). As an experiment, I also weighed myself after each loop to make sure I was never rapidly losing weight. This, in theory, would help indicate a sodium imbalance. Over the course of the race, I gradually lost about 4 pounds.

The first day went by very quickly, and it was really fun talking to some of the legends of the sport in the United States. Meeting and talking to Harvey Lewis was a particular realization of a dream. I think I got to talk to pretty much everyone! The day course was really engaging, and I never felt bored. It was really neat running with a group of people who all knew what they were doing. It was weird knowing that it would be unlikely for anyone to drop before the first couple of days or so.

When the night loop began, we went past the “virar” in the pavement and continued on our way. The first night loop included a sunset, a nice little climb on the road between some trees, and a beautiful view of the mountains.

Towards the turnaround point, the French cameraman on a bike asked each of us what was our favorite thing that we ate that past day. Mine was a guacamole sandwich.

When I got back to the camp, I put on some noise-canceling headphones and a face mask and tried to sleep. I often slept! I think that’s because I was not having caffeine. Unfortunately, the noise-canceling headphones worked a little too well and we had a close call on one of the first night loops with my crew not realizing I couldn’t hear them at all. Luckily I still made it to the corral on time and they decided to shake me awake in the future!

Just like at Queeny, I only began taking caffeine when I needed it. At Queeny, I first took caffeine during loop 40, because I NEEDED it. At Big’s, I ended up deciding to have my first bit of caffeine (a Coke) during yard 50, since I was feeling a little sleepy. This allowed me to sleep quite well during the first two nights at Big’s.

When I was out on the night course, I listened to a playlist that my girlfriend Elizabeth made for me. An 18 hour selection of songs and podcasts with her own voice memos sprinkled throughout. Hearing her voice every once in a while and some selections she put together was a treat.

The sun began to rise during the last night loop. It was gorgeous, and it was a reward for getting through the first night.

Going into this race, it was clear to me that everyone on the team was capable of making it at least 50 yards. But as the midday of day 2 drew closer, some of us began to struggle.

My legs were beginning to get sore, and my left knee was having some acute pain. But these things I knew I could get through. Looking around, I saw that there were some other signs of pain. In particular, Ryan was facing some challenges.

My crew told me to give Ryan some moral support during the next few yards, so I did my best to cheer him on. When Ryan exited the race after 30 yards (someone whose best was 64 yards) it was hard. I knew he wanted to go further. He was a strong runner.

When the second day came to a close and we hit the road loops, we were met once again by the French camera bike man, Rudy. He asked me some questions about how I was doing, and I was having a pretty good time! However, my left knee still hurt, and my legs were quite sore.

It wasn’t too much longer that I discovered that Keith dropped from the race. It was once again really hard to learn that someone on the team dropped out. My dad and I knew Keith from racing with him at Capital backyard and crewing him in different races. He is such a cool guy, he is very knowledgeable about backyards, and I knew he had big goals.

The second night was mostly just me doing my own thing and listening to my girlfriend’s playlist some more. The night began with me finishing up a podcast about the mysterious D. B. Cooper and ended with me listening to Taylor Swift.

I realized towards the end of the night that Jennifer Russo (the female world record holder of backyard ultras) was no longer in the race. I got word that she may have been having respiratory issues. This was also hard to learn as our team turned into a group of twelve.

Cody and I ran most of the last night loop together while Rudy interviewed us, and then the third day began.

I was having some stomach issues, leg soreness, and general fatigue issues. Some bathroom breaks, some ginger chews, some massaging, and my first bit of caffeine later, it seemed like my issues still persisted. But, I felt that none of the issues were bad enough to be worried that I would be exiting the race. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for some of my teammates.

Next, the 28 year old Bo (I’m one year old younger, so I have him beat in the youthfulness category), Cody (my assist from Queeny), and the legendary Chris Roberts (who got 84 yards to be second best in the world in 2021) dropped from the race. All exits were very hard pills to swallow. I missed all of them immediately.

It was at the end of the third day that things became a bit more stressful. I would spend time going to the bathroom and then not have much time left to complete the yard. I’d often have to run the parts in the last mile or so of the course that I had previously walked, and I was still only coming in at 57 and a half minutes or so. I wasn’t panicking per se, but I was getting a bit of an undesired adrenaline rush.

I might have been a little more out of it at this point than I realized at the time. After the race, my sister was talking to me about these hours on the third day, and how they had moved my chair outside of our tent and closer to the corral where it could be in the shade and have more breeze. I had no memory of them doing this for several hours and had to see video evidence from the live stream to believe it.

The start of the 3rd night on the road was welcome.

Ron and I started the third night together, ahead of the pack. It was a blast, and we realized that running together felt very natural and chill.

A loop not long after, I started running with Harvey, and the group he was leading as a team. Following his instructions for when to walk and when to run felt easier in some ways, since the running was slower and it required less thought, but it also felt harder since the walking breaks were shorter and faster. There were more frequent walking breaks, so there were more transitions from walking, to running, to walking which sometimes felt clunky.

Running with the group was also difficult since I was beginning to feel more sensitive and irritable to the flashing of the bouncing headlamps and auditory stimulation from the footsteps and chatter.

After completing the 61st yard, I rang the “PR bell” as my crew and Chris Roberts cheered for me with tutus on! It felt like a great accomplishment, but it also felt just like any other yard. I knew I would celebrate this achievement more after the race, but I was too tired to really make much of a deal out of it...

During the 64th yard, my legs felt terrible when I ran. They felt like they were on fire, and it hurt. My walking was slow, awkward, and inefficient. I all but forgot how to walk. Harvey realized this and decided to run with me, so that I could complete the yard in time. Running was increasingly more painful as we ran together, but he kept me going. His compliments and pats on the back were the motivation I needed to keep pushing through the pain. I knew that if he left me to run alone, I might have given up. I think he knew that as well…

I returned to the corral and began the 65th yard, but I felt spent. The group naturally ran off down the hill towards the “virar” without me.

Harvey asked me from a distance, “Dave, do you want to run together again?” I quietly replied “I don’t think so…” Not because I shouldn’t have, but because my tired brain didn’t want to run through the pain in my legs. Running was no longer fun.

“I think this is it for me” I told the group ahead of me for some to hear.

Levi stopped in his tracks and turned to face me. “It’s not too late, Dave,” he said. “You can keep running, and you can finish this.”

I said something like “No; I think I’m done.” and Levi started running to catch up with the group.

I turned back to camp and walked to Laz. “I think I’m done.” I said “my legs don’t want to run anymore.”

After some silence he said “Are you sure?”

I did not answer.

I heard my dad yell “Dave, don’t quit! Keep running! You have time!”

So, I miraculously turned back and kept running the course.

I could hear a loud “Bad life choices!” from Chris as I started to run down the road.

I slowly made it down the hill and past some of the landmarks along the road. Fences, trees, marks on the road, gravel driveways… then I looked down at my watch and realized I would not complete the loop in time. So I turned back, started walking, and had in mind that I would quit this time for good.

I turned in my chip at the timing tent and did my best to explain what this episode on the 65th yard was all about. I was not able to completely recall where I turned around, but I did recall feeling pained legs when running and slow legs when walking.

I returned to my tent, and was met by my crew, photographers, and Laz who gave me a DNF coin in a small black bag “of snuff” (to clarify, it was not a bag of snuff).

Laz seemed somewhat content with what I did, and it allowed me to feel a bit better. The truth was, I was proud of myself, but I also went into the race with the idea that I would “run forever” – an impossible goal – and finishing the race at any distance would be short of that.

I love backyard ultras. The journey is so profound and unique. At Big’s I received 64 hours and over 266 miles of trails, country road, teamwork, and perseverance. But sometimes when the race is over, the only thing people see is the pain and the disappointment.

Reflecting on this race was weird. I didn’t hit many of my goals. I had dreams of getting through the third night (72 yards), making it far enough to make the at-large list for Big’s in 2025 (which is currently 83 yards), getting through the fourth night (96 yards), and perhaps surpassing the world record (108 yards). But, I achieved so much.

I was happy with what I achieved. I got a personal record by 4 yards (64) on the true, pure, and mean backyard ultra course (Big’s). I contributed 64 yards towards our country's placement as 3rd place (Belgium came in 1st and Australia barely beat us to come in 2nd). Also, I outperformed my seed number for the team (I ended up placing 9th on the US team), I was the 3rd best #10 seeded runner in the world, I got no blisters during the race, I had no cramps during the race, and I got no chafing during the race as well. Also, I got tons of sleep! I had no hallucinations, which I guess is good and bad… since hallucinations always make cool stories.

I hope those who followed along with my race or are reading this now know that backyard ultras are so much more than pain and disappointment which often are most apparent in a runner’s last couple yards. A backyard ultra is about the journey. A journey with no end in sight. That’s what makes them so unique. I had so much fun working with my fellow teammates and crew, working through the course and issues as they came up. My success is a testament to those around me, and what took me out of the race ended up being my own intolerance to pain in my legs.

I learned something new about myself, and I am leaving the race still dreaming of the backyard.

On odd years such as 2025, about 75 runners from around the world go to Big’s backyard to race as individuals. The winners from each country in 2024, and the remaining 25-30 top performing runners from the 2023-2025 season are eligible for the race. It’s a combination of a representation of the world and the best of the best. Surely I want to see if I can attend.

Right now, I’m not eligible for this race. I need a performance of about 83 or so yards.

There are 3 races that most people think about for qualifying for Big’s Backyard Ultra on the at-large list:

• Dead Cow Gully in AUS (that went to 102 yards before)

• Capital in USA (that went to 75 yards before)

• Suffolk in UK (that went to 88 yards before)

After some research and deliberation about which race to attend, I landed on Suffolk Backyard Ultra. It’s a race that has proven in 2 consecutive years to at least go into the 80s, it's virtually completely flat, has cool temps, has soft soil, and has beautiful wooded views. It has the returning champion (Poland's Lukasz Wrobel), the legendary Claire Bannwarth from France, and other "elite" runners attending (such as some members of the UK team). Also, it's not too expensive of a trip to make (and the entry fee is significantly reduced if you ran at least 40-50 yards before). As a bonus, this trip to the UK is a great excuse to continue with a little international vacation when the race is over 🏖️.

Backyard ultras are getting very hard to be eligible to compete on the world stage. But, having a sort of team (so to speak) at Suffolk would help us achieve the world standard on the most competitive backyard year to date.

-Dave

Some more photos...

Watching Big's 2023

It was 6:50 on a Monday morning in the fall of 2023, and I was still in bed watching Big’s Backyard Ultra. A work day. I should be out of my bed right now. I thought to myself.

But, the “race with no end” was underway. And I was glued to watching it unfold.

Eventually, I reluctantly pulled my blanket off and slipped out of bed while watching the cowbell being rung once more by race director Laz. The remaining runners shuffled past the start line and began their next loop.

I put down my phone and started my typical daily routine. But my mind remained in Bell Buckle Tennessee.

Signing up for Queeny

2024 is an even year, and that means Big’s is a World Team Championship event: 15 runners from each country compete simultaneously from their respective land. Each country running their own last-person-standing event as a team, they tally their total yards to determine the winner. To earn a spot on Team USA, you’d need to win one of the 7 “silver ticket” races, or perform well enough to earn a top eight spot on the “at-large list”. Before the qualifying window started, a runner would need at least 64 yards to be on that list.

To shoot for a spot, I decided to try a silver ticket race I’d never run in before: Queeny Backyard Ultra in St. Louis, Missouri. I signed up for the race with the intention of either winning, and guaranteeing a spot, or making it far enough to get on the team.

I checked out Ultrasignup to see who applied and one runner stood out immediately: the previous winner of the race and a prior member of the USA team in 2022. From Jefferson City, Missouri with glasses, a smile, and a bushy beard: Cody Eubanks.

I reached out to him and asked about the course. I learned a bit about the varying terrain, the scenery, and some of the unpredictable weather they had experienced in past years. In our short conversation, it was pretty clear that Cody was a cool dude. Furthermore, we had nearly the same personal backyard record; he went 48 yards before at Big’s, and I went 52 at Ohio’s.

Mind shift

It was December, and I learned that Chris Roberts was planning on running at Queeny. This guy is a big deal in the backyard ultra scene. He ran 84 yards as the assist to Harvey Lewis at Big’s in 2021. With Chris running the race, my thinking shifted.

You may be inclined to say: “Dave! You have no shot in winning Queeny now! The guy who ran 84 yards – freaking 32 further than your absolute best – is in the race! Bail out! RUN SOMETHING ELSE!”

But no.

That’s not at all what I thought. Not one bit. It occurred to me: This is a good thing. A really good thing. I get to run with freaking Chris Roberts. And Chris is going to take me and Cody all the way to the moon. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to run with one of the best. A legend in the backyards. This is actually kinda good.

But, something needed to change. I needed to keep up with Chris.

Keeping up

My expectation went from possibly winning the race to instead having the expectation that I was going to have to go super duper far and at best come in 2nd or 3rd.

So, I listened to some interviews with backyard ultra “greats.” I integrated some new aspects into my plan that I inferred they believed were key to their success. Here are a few examples:

• Like Phil Gore, I made a detailed race plan for my crew and myself to follow.

• Like Jon Noll, I ran some relatively quick 40 mile runs on the weekends.

• Like Harvey Lewis, I ate a (predominantly) vegan diet.

You might say, “Hey, Dave. That’s kind of fan-boyish of you.” And I would say without denial, “Yep.”

I’m not completely certain that doing the 40 mile runs made a giant difference just yet (though they were bunches of fun, and I’ll probably keep doing them), but I’m certain of something: making a detailed race plan really helped. Besides just running, a backyard includes all the other things you have to do in between the loops. As the race goes on, you have less time, and you can find yourself getting a bit sleepy and slacking off. That’s where the plan comes in.

Now, my crew and I would just need to check out what we are supposed to do during and after that loop and then follow it. Of course there’s still some improvisation and problem solving involved, but it helps to stay on track of when to fix up my skin, when to prepare a certain type of meal, or when to run a bit faster to try to get some sleep. Mainly, it saves some time and energy spent thinking about the trivial things we need to do in a race with an indefinite end.

Those tangible changes aside, I also recognized I needed a stronger mind to push past where I failed before.

I'm the mule

In past backyards, my mind would eventually give out. I would lose hope when my body began to resemble a slug. Every time I dropped from a backyard ultra, there was a mental component to it, even if it was small, it was there. At Ohio’s on yard 53, I told myself mid-stride to take a little break during an uphill climb. That was my mental blip, and it subsequently made my legs seize up (which yes, was then physical). So, I became exhausted. I needed a stronger mental game to prevent those sorts of incidents. Something that would not get in the way of the pursuit to run forever.

It was during a training run in January in Arlington, Virginia – moving back and forth alone on a half mile hilly trail at night with my headlamp – that I listened to The Long Walk by Stephen King. A story about people competing against each other in a theoretically endless walk. They walked southbound along the roads from the northeast in the United States and were eliminated from the event when they fell below four miles per hour too often. The walk would end when only one person remained. Sounds kinda almost sorta like a backyard ultra.

Anyways, there’s a quote in the book that took hold of me during that dark night which helped shape my mental framework for Queeny: “A mule without a carrot gets exhausted. A mule with a carrot spends a long time being tired.”

I thought to myself: I’ll be a mule, and Big’s will be my carrot. No more exhaustion. Just being tired!

The race begins

I arrived at Queeny, set up my tent with my crew (thanks, Dad, Mom, and Mary!), and then I went to the starting line.

Then, at 10 am, the race started with 96 runners! Woo!

Staying present is everything in a backyard race. Looking too far back or too far into the future can cause mental fatigue and can make you wonder, “Why am I doing this?” As I peered over the woods, calm pond, and soft fields at Queeny Park, I told myself “I am going on a 4 mile jog around a park.” I was not lying at all. I was going to tell myself that every yard. I knew that as time passed, this would be an increasingly more difficult task.

I got to chat with Chris during most of the first loop, and then he was out of the race. I was really quite bummed out. I know what you’re probably thinking: “Chris? The Chris Roberts? Out of the race? How!??” That’s Chris’ story to tell, and it’s best if I leave it at that for now. Chris later made some Hylē Hydration™ donations to me and my crew via a large 5 gallon orange cooler (yum!). He also gave me some positive vibes and gameday backyard ultra tips which benefited the outcome of my race.

The race continued. I ran with my sister, we made some jokes here and there, and we played a game:

“Do you know what they say about running?” Mary asked.

“Yes! Running is a footstep into the future!” I replied. “Do you know what they say about art?” I asked.

“Yes! Art is a snack for the soul!” She replied.

And so on…

You might be amazed at what can entertain you while running around in circles for hours. As we exited the trees onto the final straightaway, I reminded myself: “I am going on a 4 mile jog around a park.”

The first night

During the first 12-15 hours or so of the race, I took many bathroom breaks. It seemed like I was just basically detoxing myself from the meals I had before the race. After that, I would go like 24 hours before needing to take a substantial bathroom break again. Weird, but honestly pretty awesome since everything else was functioning normally. So, it saved me lots of time!

After 12 hours, my sister dropped out of the race, and I was super proud! She was a bit short of a PR in the backyard, but Queeny was a significantly harder course than her previous race.

On the first night, I essentially followed Phil Gore’s pacing plan from Big’s: three "quick" yards followed by one "recovery" yard repeated 3 times until the sun came up. These faster yards allowed me to get some substantial rests. Did I “sleep”? No, I would not call it sleeping per se, but I came dang close multiple times with 10+ minute naps, often getting lost in visuals with movement and color. Like an opening act to a true sleep.

The party dwindles

On loop 22, Cody and I wore tu-tus for lap “two two.” Just like the Australians do in their backyards.

This festive loop getting dressed up was followed by some rapid changes that slimmed down the race field.

19 runners completed loop 24 (whoop! 100 miles!).

13 runners completed loop 26 (way to go, Lindsey Roberts for being the last female and Nicholas Steel for being only 21!).

8 runners completed loop 28.

6 runners completed loop 29.

5 runners completed loop 30.

4 runners completed loop 32 (nice job, Cody Poskin for making it this far in the race as a 22 year old!).

3 runners completed loop 35 (shoutout to Stormy Hild for making it to the second night and for running for a great cause!).

Then, it was just Cody and me who completed loop 36.

Just me and that other guy

On the second night, I was no longer interested in doing the faster loops like I did the first. My body just wanted to run a little slower. But, I was still able to get lots of good “shut-eye”.

During loop 40, I experienced my first moment of weakness. I was running alone behind Cody, and I was sleepy. I was suddenly lacking energy. I wanted to quit. When I finished the loop in 53 minutes, there was cheering at the finish. I gave a brief smile, and I waved my dad over to my tent, and we closed the entryway. I sat on my cot feeling a bit bummed out, and I said with seriousness, “Dad, I wanted to quit during that loop.” He replied, “Okay, enough putting off caffeine. It’s time.” He gave me a caffeine strip to put on my tongue (the first caffeine I had during the race), and I crossed my fingers that things would take a turn for the better. And they did. I was a bit less sleepy during loop 41, and all of loop 42 felt beautifully normal. A beautiful 4 mile jog around a park.

We began each loop running into the darkness from the well-lit starting line, usually with me running a bit ahead.

I ran across the first paved path, went down the hill past the pond, and jogged over the short wooden bridge where I began the walk up to the gazebo. Towards the top of the meandering climb at mile one, Cody would occasionally catch up to me.

We then ran past the house to the entrance of the woods and went down the dirt trail to the cement bridge over the stream. We took a sharp left turn through the park maintenance area and onto the next section: the gradual uphill path consisting of dirt, grass, and tree gumballs. It was during this section of the yard that Cody would often pass me.

After that, we crossed the stream via another cement bridge, this one hugged by loose gravel. Then we jogged the dirt trail in the woods until the ascent got steep enough for our bodies to want to walk. This was when I would reach into my pocket to eat a PB&J or some muffins washed down with a few sips of Hylē Hydration™.

When we got to the stump a bit past the trash can, we began to jog again until we got to the bottom of the next climb in this dirt trail between the trees. This one was actually quite steep.

Usually, I was behind Cody here, but there was a selection of yards where I checked to make sure I did not see Cody behind me, and then I would have some “me” time: I enjoyed letting out some loud, even villainous laughter to get my spirits up – hopefully I didn’t scare you, Cody. I was feeling a sort of way.

…okay, moving on.

When we got to this group of metal and wood poles, we ran a short distance to the exit of the forest. Then, we were in a big field that had horse jumps scattered around. The sunset and sunrises poking through the trees here were beautiful, and the sky was nice and open. Through this field, we ran on the gravel that sloped downhill until it made a wide u-turn around a big tree with a westward facing bench under it. To me, it was “Cody’s Bench.”

Early in the race, I saw Cody take a seat on the bench and take off his shoes. I asked him “Have a rock in your shoe?” and he replied “Just relaxing!” He would keep sitting on this bench throughout the race, and I would always wonder if I was missing out on something special. So yeah, “Cody’s Bench.”

After touring around the bench, we were greeted by a man with a reflective vest on the edge of the park by his house who rang a cowbell and gave some encouraging words.

A ways later, we had to jump off the grass and back onto the gravel path and make our way a short distance to reenter the woods. Here, we walked again up a little hill. This was the beginning of the most fun part of the course and also the most challenging.

It was enjoyable, since we got to pass by a couple more houses with cheering residents. At the first house we passed, there was a group of four people or so around a bonfire who whooped and hollered praises of rapidfire as we walked up the adjacent hill: “Go, Dave! Go, Cody! Looking strong!” and once we got to the top and started our run again: “That’s it! You got this!” Towards the top of the next climb, there was another man by his house who rang a cowbell and gave us more encouragement.

But, it was also challenging. This part of the yard had the steepest downhills of the course, and it was made of loose gravel and leaves. The uphills that followed sometimes made it difficult to keep pace.

After the last climb, we had to run a bit more on a flat section of dirt to exit the woods and rejoin the paved path that fed right to the start/finish line. We crossed the finish line after 430 feet of rolling elevation, me averaging 50 minutes over the course of the race, and Cody averaging 51. We were often not far from each other at the finish.

Where's Cody?

During the 3rd day, Cody told me “We are well matched,” and then at yard 58, “I feel like we are prize fighters,” When he said those things, I was reminded that we were in a competition. I was still holding onto the idea that we were going on a 4 mile jog around the park.

As the hot day progressed, I started thinking about how we were approaching my dream distances: We are soon going to see the sunset, then we will get to 60 yards. Then a couple more loops and it will be midnight. Next, we are going to move into the USA at-large list. Next thing you know, it will be sunrise! Then we are going to get some newfound energy and cruise past 300 miles! After that, we will be passing the big players on the at-large list left and right. The sky's the limit. Just me and Cody out here, making history. Together.

The sky grew dark for a 3rd time in the race, and I began to have pseudohallucinations (they are not quite real hallucinations, since you know that what you are seeing is not real). The leaves and sticks on the trail became faces. A constant blast of vivid, abstract faces the color of dark soil lashed at my eyes and fatigued my brain. I did not know if I needed more caffeine or less. But I found that either looking away from the trail or turning off my headlamp eased the distractions of the surreal imagery.

Early into loop 59, I asked Cody if we could run together so that we could stay strong during the night. Cody attempted to have a conversation with me. It was then that it hit me for the first time that Cody was facing some problems: his lips were numb, and he had a dry mouth. He told me that he was slapping his lips to keep them awake. Despite this, he seemed to be speaking okay and moving well too. However, when I talked to him, I found it difficult to say anything substantial; it took too much energy for me to funnel my thoughts into words. I enjoyed listening to him, but I sensed that this was evolving into a one-sided conversation, where I was becoming nothing more than a set of ears. Perhaps I too was facing some problems. I told him that he could move ahead of me, and so he did. Somehow during this slow yard, I passed him and finished just a bit in front of him. Cody ran a 56 minute loop for the second time in the race.

During the 60th yard in the dark, breezy night, I was feeling normal again and had renewed energy. I was no longer experiencing the pseudohallucinations, and I was feeling awake, despite not taking caffeine for a while. Towards the entrance to the field at the halfway point, I looked for Cody, but he was nowhere to be seen.

I kept looking back, but I still could not see his headlamp. Time ticked by as I ran under the stars in the field. I told the cowbell guy by Cody’s Bench “I think the race is over. Cody hasn’t exited the woods in time.” But, I didn’t quite believe it. Cody just looked so good for the first part of the loop. I thought for sure he was just taking a bathroom break. Or maybe, he had his headlamp turned off to prevent hallucinating like I had been. Maybe I was not seeing straight.

I passed by the remaining houses that bordered the hilly trail in the woods, and I told each of them that Cody was nowhere to be seen. “I think the race is over.” I said again. It was beginning to settle in. My buddy was no longer with me. But also, did I just earn a spot at Big’s?

The man in the camping chair

I finished the loop in 50 minutes and saw the bearded Eubanks in his camping chair by the finish line. I knew it was over and ran over and thanked him with a hug and a handshake. Eyes from familiar faces and strangers huddled around us as we sat by the race clock approaching hour 60. We all listened to what Cody had to say; the “assist” of Queeny was decided, and we were eager to hear his story. He shared well spoken wisdom about his experience on Team USA and gave advice and kind words. We learned he had been dealing with leg pain in the race. A sore achilles, and eventually it became too much.

Everyone seemed to honor our race. It was a big show, and it was a testament to how far the human body can go given the right event and support to crew us in pursuit of reaching our limits. Thank you to those who put on the event, those who participated, those who crewed, those who spectated, and those who cheered. I cannot thank my dad, mom, and sister enough for crewing me at the event. They helped me earn a spot at Big’s on Team USA. And so now…

It's time for a new carrot.

Random selection of photos

So! 2023 is over! Let’s discuss the life of Dave in 2023. I know what you’re probably thinking: “This year was epic for you! You ran across the country!”

In 2023, I accomplished my dream of running across the United States of America. A big, scary, ambitious thing. Huge. One might think that was enough to make this the most fulfilling year of my life. However, if I’m honest with myself, the year averaged out to be… a bit average? But I have thoughts. Let me explain:

Getting things going

The year started, and it felt like a continuation of the last months of 2022. I spent the end of 2022 winding things down in Seattle and continued to do so until the end of February of 2023. To me that meant no longer thrifting things for my apartment, not continuing my application to be on the Seattle Running Club Brooks team, no longer making plans with friends in the pacific northwest, and no longer doing a list of other things you do when you know you’ll be in your city for a year or more. In 2023, I was going to be in Seattle for less than 2 months. Those 2 months felt like a last “hurrah” before my departure.

I knew that my transcontinental run was going to take time. And it was too much time to stay associated with my job (a job I loved) via a temporary leave. My team graciously said their goodbyes and celebrated with a “Good luck, Dave!” black forest cake during my last week. I left my things, and I ran home from work with an empty backpack into the sunset. It was my last run commute from Bellevue to Seattle.

Every run felt bittersweet. I knew they would be my last (at least for a long time). I experienced my last run around Tiger Mountain, the last run around Cougar mountain, the last run over the I90 bridge, the last run over the 520 bridge, the last run on the Burke Gilman Trail, the last run in Magnuson Park, the last run in Ravenna Park, the last run on the Marsh and Foster Island, the last run in the Washington Arboretum, the last run in the Discovery Park, the last run around Lake Union, the last run on lake Washington Blvd, the last run on Interlaken Dr, the last run around the Space Needle, the last run on the Elliot Bay Trail around Queen Anne, the last run around Green Lake, the last run around Volunteer Park, the last run on the Howe Street Stairs, the last run with the Cowgill runners, the last run with Capitol Hill’s Fleet Feet, and the last run with my friends.

After a going away party with friends in Capitol Hill, I returned to my apartment to sell the rest of my furniture. My friend Sam Feng helped put my final belongings in the lobby of my old apartment, leaving me with just a handful of bags to be sent across the country to my parents house in Virginia. The last thing I did in my apartment was weigh my suitcases with a body scale I borrowed from the neighbors I met about a couple years before, when I first moved in. Next, I made my way to my flight in Tacoma. As I peered out the window on my flight leaving the city I called my home for nearly 4 years – the only one I resided in after college – I couldn’t help but picture an imaginary version of myself running about 300 times slower along a similar path below.

My attempt at securing a spot at Big’s before my transcon

So at this point in my story, I was attempting to wrap things up (*cough* plan my run across America) before taking a trip to San Francisco. I spent lots of time with my family and enjoyed many hours on Google Maps (but not too much since I wanted the trip to be a surprise). But there was also one other thing I wanted to get done before my trip began: run a competitive backyard race.

My plan was to run Ohio’s Backyard Ultra on March 18th (snagging a spot at Big’s Backyard Ultra in the process (I mean, that would be awesome – I hoped it would give me peace and motivation during the transcon)), recover a little, and then begin my run from San Francisco on April 1st. This didn’t really go to plan at all.

Firstly, Ohio’s Backyard Ultra was an amazing experience (I wrote a race report on it – check it out), but, long story short, I got really sleepy, and I didn’t qualify for Big’s Backyard Ultra – after all of the races completed around the world, I ended up being 4 yards short of making the dynamic qualifying standard (if my memory serves me right). I left the race exhilarated, having achieved such a huge number of miles and a big adventure with my support crew (thanks, parents and Mary!), but also kind of bummed out that I prevented the winner (Josh Laker) from making it to Big’s, since the winner can only go one more yard than the assist (which was me). This still nags me to this day. He was in good shape on that last yard, and who knows how far he could have gone.

Secondly, after refreshing a tab for “weather in Lake Tahoe” about twice a day, it became apparent pretty quickly that I would need to postpone my start date across the country. There was too much snow in the Sierra. The furthest I could stomach pushing my start date was May 1st. I thought to myself:

If it worked for Mike Wardian, it can work for me.

I guess it could have been any day in May, but starting the trip on the 1st is just… cool?

The transcon

For brevity's sake, I’ll thin this out to just some important takeaways (remember, this is a 2023 review report, not some transcon report): The trancscon (which I named “frantosand” before the trip started) was kind of not exactly what I thought it would be, but also lived up to my expectations of the ultimate adventure that I wanted my self-supported journey to be. There was so much of the country I had yet to see, and I wanted an ambitious adventure. It ended up having a sort of yin yang balanced fullness. It was boring, and it was engaging. It felt easy, and it was challenging. There were surprises, and everything went to plan. I felt hopeless, and I felt invincible. I got lost, and I kept finding my way. I got scared, and I was brave. I felt sad, and I felt happy. I got injured, and then I felt like I was in the best shape of my life. I felt sick to my stomach, and I felt like a machine. Furthermore, I met countless unique people, I got to camp a lot, I ate a bunch of junk food, at times I felt like I was on a different planet, at times I felt like I was living in a dream, I got to run a lot, I saw beautiful landscapes, I saw interesting towns, I got to share some of the experience with my friends and family, and I got to float on the waves of the Atlantic Ocean behind my Grandma’s house in Virginia Beach just as I dreamed.

For those who want to know the stats of the trip: 3,402 miles, 76 days, 45 miles a day, San Francisco, CA -> Sandbridge Beach, VA, me, my stroller Sunshine, my backpack, and occasional support from my parents and friends.

This description obviously doesn’t really do any justice for describing the nitty gritty of the trip, but there’s more to come. Stay tuned for a brief film and a proper write up / book, etc.

Trying to be a normal person again

After finishing my run across the country I tried to settle back into being a normal person.

Why was I trying to be a “normal person” again? It’s because I had to make a living somehow!

Getting a job again was hard. An airy, not-very-jampacked, loose hard. In other words, I wasn’t getting interviews. Skipping the self-pity, I felt extremely thankful for the job I did end up getting. I now lived and worked in Virginia (a bit closer to family).

Awesome, Dave! You have a job now! That means you’re cool as a cucumber, right?

No.

On the running side, the completion of the transcon left me feeling a strange strong-weak. My legs felt resilient, my heart felt strong, I didn’t ever breath hard, and my body was lean (I lost 15 pounds during the trip). But, one big thing was off. I was slow now. 12 minute mile pace was the new 9 minute pace, and 9 minute pace felt like my old 6:30 pace. It would take me 3 months to get my old speed back. But that wasn’t all. I also wasn’t mentally the same.

At this point, I really didn’t feel the same exhilaration I had at the beginning of the year, or during the transcon. I had been full of excitement for the unknown of adventure, and when that unknown was known after the transcon, I felt like I was just venturing into the known again. My dream was realized, and therefore it vanished. I missed my transcon. I wished I was still doing it, but it was over. I wanted something to run towards again, but I no longer had a truly savory vision. I needed to dream a new dream.

Dreaming

Dr. David Horton is a great guy. A huge inspiration. A legend of the ultra running sport as both an athlete and now a race director. However, one thing Horton will remind us is that he “hates” backyard ultras. He believes that they are bad for you. I’m not sure I can convince him otherwise, so this is something Dr. Horton and I might have to agree to disagree on: I love them.

The first time I became aware of backyard ultras was in 2020 when I watched a documentary on the 2019 world championship when Maggie Guterl won with 60 yards (250 miles). My dad and I shared our enthusiasm for the idea of participating in a backyard ultra. The following Year, my Dad started Andy’s Backyard Ultra in our neighbor’s wooded backyard in Virginia. We both ran in backyards and learned as we went. Backyards replaced my interest in faster running – all I wanted to do was run forever.

This year at Big’s Backyard Ultra, it was streamed live to the world. Passion, athleticism, and mental spirit oozed from Tennessee and out from my TV screen. There’s absolutely nothing like watching a group of human beings from around the world run indefinitely at a pace that is perfectly balanced between too easy and too hard to get me excited for the unknown again. I was glued to my screen throughout 5 days in October watching the best multi day running event in history. After a smorgasbord of stories high and low being fed to my eyes and ears, I felt like I needed to be there. I was truly reinvigorated for backyard ultras like never before.

The end of the year

My dad and I ran the Hellgate 100K again (a very special race), and this time, I did not get lost. I beat my previous time by exactly 2 hours even though I pooped during it 6 times. Quite empowering.

A part of my new year’s resolution was to get an FKT. This didn’t happen. But it’s possible my dad and I now have the fastest known 100K on Jarman’s (over 10 six mile out-and-backs up and down a mountain by the Appalachian Trail in Crozet, VA in just under 15 hours). We scaled down our goal of doing a 24 hour 100 miler on Jarmans during the run. Thank you to John Andersen for giving us the breakfast sandwiches and Frappuccinos.

Summary

So, I’m not sure if I successfully painted how 2023 was not the most fulfilling year of my life as a whole. It may have included the absolute best adventure I ever had in my life, but its ramp-up required sacrifice, and its completion left a void. I think my preferred outlook is not for me to view the year as the average of how I felt, but to instead view it in the same lens I appreciated my transcon: the beauty of the height of the highs, and the profoundness of the depth of the lows.

Let’s take a look at the checklist I created for the year:

• ❌ Do 100 reps of Howe Stairs (this is important). (Didn’t get this before I left Seattle – maybe one day...)

• ❌ Finish Ohio’s Backyard Ultra (Close, but no cigar – assist)

• ✅ Run very far (this was the transcon)

• ❌ Get an FKT. (did not happen, but at least I did a 100K on Jarmans)

• ✅ Keep running every day I guess…

• ✅ Run at least 5,000 miles? (I ran exactly 7,000 miles)

• ❌ Don’t get injured please. (I got injured a bit during the transcon)

As you can see, I completed under half of my goals in 2023. But, I mean, I’m not sure I could have done much more after the transcon! The recovery period took months (and I am perhaps still getting over some things).

Goals for 2024?

I have a number of non-running related goals (haha), but no one’s here for that. Here’s some running related goals…

• Qualify for the USA team for the backyard ultra satellite champs

• I don’t know, keep running every day I guess… I’m over 800 days into this fad

• Go after that Jarmans 24 hour 100 miler again?

• Hellgate PR if I get to race it?

• Don’t get injured, PLEASE.

Somehow the goals for 2024 feel more ambitious than the last even though there’s no 3,400 mile journey involved. There’s a lot out of my control for qualifying to be on the world stage for backyard ultras these days, and it’s just going to get more competitive over time. But this is what fuels my dream. It seems just out of reach, but I think that I can occasionally feel my finger just on the edge of it.

I wish everyone a happy 2024!

A soft rustle escaped through the air, moved through my fingers, flew past my cramped belly, and landed gently in my freezing ears. I released a deep sigh, grumbled even, and looked down with my blurry, red eyes at my bent knees crouched in the wind. I lifted my hand and peered down at the nature that was lying peacefully in my palm. Clean, sharp waves made their way around the perimeter of the smooth, yet tactile surface. And there it was. A tear right through the middle. My thumb and the base of my fingers held onto one significant section, and the terminals of my fingers now curled to grasp the detached remainder. The beauty and practicality in what was originally whole was now nonexistent. And there, seen between the fabric of nature, were my fingertips. They served as tiny plates to hold what looked like unstirred organic peanut butter from Trader Joes. An inconsistent, creamy brown. Nature’s toilet paper was broken, and so was my ability to stay out of the bushes.

Hellgate 100K++. It’s a 66.6 mile run through the Appalachian mountains in Virginia. The race is directed by the one and only, Dr. David Horton. The course is artfully crafted as it climbs up long ascents, shoots down steep free-falls, and navigates across endless stretches of leaf-pack-bearing rocks. The midnight start of the race, the challenging course, the organic style, the history, and most importantly, the people, are some of the factors that make this race special.

I ran Hellgate last year, but things did not go to plan. I was in 4th place at mile 34, on pace for an 11:20 finish. Then I got lost. 40 minutes later, I was back on the course and no longer competitive in the race. My self-pity caused me to give up on fueling myself properly, and I bonked hard. I walked much of the remainder of the race and finished in 35th place with a time of 14 hours and 10 minutes. I didn’t achieve what I wanted, and I maintained my stat that I could not run a mountain ultra race without bonking (It was a grand adventure though).

Here's how Hellgate 2023 went:

I was running at a comfortable, yet pressing pace. Then my stomach started to hurt. I did not want to bonk. I ate three quesadilla slices, two small sandwiches, some Doritos, and a piece of a banana at mile eight. I heard something to the effect of “Now that’s how you eat at an aid station!” from Horton as he looked at me from his camping chair. I was more energized, but my stomach still bothered me. I was not going to let myself run out of energy for my third mountain ultra race in a row.

I was running up in the chase pack. I stopped to try to poop. A guy or 2 passed me. Nothing happened. There was no relief.

I ran some more with some new friends. A discomfort began to make its presentation in my belly.

I stopped to poop again. Some minor success happened. I think I was feeling a little better, but I was wasting time.

My previous group was too far ahead of me, so I was running alone. I pooped again.

Now there were some more runners with me. I was running with John Andersen and Chris Roberts. These 2 guys always finished in the top 10 and ran great times. It felt like a no-brainer to try to stay with them while I ate loads more food than I was comfortable with and keep the poop breaks at bay. I needed to learn from these two guys. They had consistently desirable mountain running results, and I did not.

To pretend things were going well, I talked a lot – probably serving more as a hype man than a real conversationalist. Ex:

Chris: Complaining from behind

Me: "You're doing great, Chris."

John: Grunting while going up a hill

Me: "We love this, man!"

All of us: Starting to walk

Me: "That was an awesome run, guys!"

Now Bobby “Pink shorts” Lee was running with us.

At about mile 40, I started to pull away from them a bit, but my stomach was still in pain. Bobby passed me and sped off. Later, the running duo caught back up to me.

At about mile 45, I started to fight off a warm sensation from brewing in the back of my shorts.

Now they were the ones who were pulling away – on a technical downhill stretch of switch-backs. It hurt too much to navigate across these rocks with speed.

I peeled off into the woods after the stream-crossing to poop… again.

Now I was running alone.

At mile 55 I took another poop break. I ran up a horse-shoe shaped trail a bit, and realized something that turned me from a tired, complacent runner to one that was now energized and scared. Someone was catching up to me. But, I wanted to at least finish just behind John and Chris. I did not want someone to come between those 2 and me.

I started pushing harder, breathing harder, and sadly, having to poop harder. I would periodically turn my head over my shoulder to check on the nearby competitor. He was making up ground. He was getting closer. But, I could not stand it any longer: I pooped.

While I was kneeling behind a tree off the trail, he passed me and said something I thought was comical, since I had been running scared trying to get away from him: “Nice running some miles with you, man!”

I was approaching the last aid station, and could hear some clapping, and a “Good work!!”... “Good job!”

I could see him through the woods briefly pause at the aid station.

This will be my opportunity. I thought to myself.

I “sprinted” at a 7 minute pace straight through this final aid station, ignoring everything, and ran to catch up to him on the start of the final ascent of the race.

He was too nice. I gave him a fist bump. “You can keep on running. I’ll make a big push on the downhill section at the top!” he told me.

So I kept running. But then, it got too hard for me to run. I had to poop so bad. I started walking. I turned around, and saw him running. He was catching up.

He passed me, and he kept running up this very steep climb. He left my panting ass in the dust. He was a true uphill runner. A real mountain runner. My true colors were showing as I walked this final ascent. He deserved this victory. I thought to myself.

But, I got to the top of the climb, and I felt like a new man (though I still had a pained stomach and craved an opportunity to poop). I ran hard. I finished in 15th place in 12 hours and 10 minutes (2 hours faster than last year). My final mile of the race was under 6 minutes, but I was still not even close to catching up to Steven. Thus, someone came between me and those other 2 runners. What a champ.

I was no Bobby Lee, no Chris Roberts, no John Andersen, and no Steven Larick.

But, I still came out on top. It was the first mountain ultramarathon that I did not bonk in.

And, it was a true adventure.

In a special event.

A special, poopy event.

Cramming a sticky, sugary donut in my face and taking a gulp of Hylē (Chris Roberts’ nutrition drink formerly known as Long Haul), I shuffled over to the familiar start line. We were in a field in the woods in southern Ohio. Standing beside me was Josh Laker, the only other remaining runner in the race. He looked serious and focused. As for me, I felt okay enough. I didn’t feel like my race was about to be finished, but it was getting harder. My legs felt stiff but strong, my stomach felt great. The caffeine I took the hour before was keeping me awake, but my breathing was getting harder and faster.

The bell rang, and we were off. About 5 meters later, Josh pulled ahead of me, but I felt undeterred – I told myself that he wasn’t feeling much better than me, and I believed it.

After completing the march up the first short hill, trudging through a stretch of mud on some undulating trail, then running through the turn near the base of the first major climb of the course, I found myself thinking:

I’m a little out of breath. Let’s take a little break right here.

I hunched over on the slope and noticed the pebbles embedded into the long climb between the trees. I placed my hands on my bent knees and looked up to see Josh near the top. Looking back down at the small round rocks, I made out an orange toy basketball the size of a gumball sitting between my feet. I kept staring at it thinking it would surely reveal itself as a rock, stick, or leaf, but it never did. I looked over to my left at the edge of the trail, and there was another. Another little orange basketball.

I looked down at my watch and realized that I already wasted over a minute staring at little imaginary basketballs. I lifted my hands from my knees and attempted to straighten out my legs. But something was wrong. My legs were frozen in place. I attempted to take a step up the hill, and managed to move my leg forward an embarrassing half a foot. My legs repositioned themselves into a squat and I collapsed.

Now facing down the hill and sitting on the ground, I looked at a large wooden treehouse high in the trees off the trail. My eyes searched beneath it to try to find a ladder, but I could not find one. The dreamed up tree house was just floating there high in the trees. I glanced back up the trail and through the trees. There was no sign of Josh. He was long gone. He had never been so gone before, and I knew he shouldn’t be. I knew my race was over.

As I sat there on the sloped trail of little rocks, it occurred to me how long I had been in the race.

52 hours… I’ve been running out here for over 52 hours… I can remember running last night on a road, but was that here? I’m on a trail right now, not a road… How can I run on both a road and a trail? I remember running here on the trail yesterday, but do I remember being here the day before yesterday? And was I also running on that road not last night but the night before too? …I guess so… wow… 52 hours.

My parents, my sister Mary, and I arrived early in the morning. Back at our pop-up canopy tent that we had set up the night before, we made a few final preparations before the first loop of the backyard ultra event (a jumbo shoutout goes to my mom and sister for crewing for my dad and me!) The backyard ultra was made of a 4.16 mile trail course (aka yard) during the day and a 4.16 mile out-and-back on the road at night. This was run each hour until only one runner was left to complete a yard. I felt calm and collected. Contrary to a common belief among backyard ultra runners, I, in some ways, disagreed that you “cannot have a bad loop.” I knew that I would experience problems during the event and have some crappy yards, and I also knew that I would have to be resilient. I did not believe that every loop had to be fun or “good”, and that made me free of stress.

The first yard started at 7:30 am (but for me it was 7:00 am, since I set my simple Timex watch 30 minutes behind. All I had to do was look at the minutes on the hour to make it easier to keep track of time). During the first handful of yards on the trail, I tried to find a run/walk rhythm and pee break spot that I liked. After it seemed like enough people knew that my pee tree was Dave’s pee tree, it made me feel more at home on the trail. I settled into a pace that allowed enough time for me to “rest” a little between the yards and resupply with my crew.

As always, I enjoyed getting to know as many people as I could in the race. 100 starters (including my dad, Rick) was a lot of people for a backyard! Not too far into the first day, the ground got really quite muddy which made things tricky. Also, did I mention that the air was really cold? It was in the 30s. Some snow too.

As the sun went down, we transitioned to the road at 7:30 pm. The field was down to 70 runners. Everyone at this point had run 50 miles! The transition to the road seemed shaky for most, but I was pleasantly surprised that it felt extremely smooth to me after slipping on my cushy, bouncy road shoes. But… the temperature was still dropping. It was now in the 20s and WINDY.

It took me a long time to develop a rhythm on these out-and-backs on the road. It had some hills, but they were infrequent and mellow. I often battled between wanting to run on a long gradual incline to finish the loop a bit faster or walk sections of it to save the legs. I also wondered:

If I were to walk some of this hill, should I start now, at that road sign up ahead, or just wherever I feel like it?

I used a strategy of periodically closing my eyes on the road to sense when the road became a little harder to run on, and then I would open my eyes to search for a landmark and begin to walk. I then closed my eyes to sense where it became a bit too easy to walk, and looked for another landmark. I used these landmarks to know where to walk and run. The night went on, and I developed a pretty good flow that worked for me.

There were a couple of women who were almost always far ahead leading the night loops. On the second to last night loop, excitement caught up to me since the night was almost over, so I ran up to them to see what they were about. They looked strong and capable of running for who knows how long, but to my surprise, they told me that they were going to be done after 100 miles due to scheduled obligations. This news blew me and others away. We thought they were going to be in this race forever!

Towards the end of this cold, windy night, I also caught up to a strong runner named Tara Dower. She was the only other runner in the entire race I think who told me how far exactly they wanted to run. She told me she wanted to get to 200 miles. I was psyched to hear that she wanted to go that far! I crossed my fingers that I’d be there with her.

The sun began to rise marking the beginning of the second day, and we lined up on the start of the trail. Now there were 25 runners left, and we had all gone 100 miles! Sure enough, I looked around and did not see those fast women leading. I also noticed that some other competitors that I thought had a chance of winning the event had dropped at some point during the night.

We all set off on the trail and were quickly met with some pretty nasty mud. Not too long into this second day on the trail, I noticed my dad was getting fatigued and coming in a bit close to the hour. On hour 27, he came in 9 minutes over the time limit. I was proud of him for running for over 100 miles and achieving one of his goals of leaving the race by timing out rather than refusing to continue or quitting during the loop. It showed a lot of willpower! Proud of you, Dad!

Once my dad was done, showered, and somewhat rested after taking a short nap, he got to join my mom and sister as the newest host and crew member of my pop-up tent. He was able to finally relax and enjoy the space heater. Meanwhile, I got the thrill of continuing to skate across the muddy, hilly trails in 30 degree weather.

The other runners and I slipped and slid in the mud, bundled in an assortment of warm clothing. The mud became puddles throughout the worst of the trail. While running with the legendary Jennifer Russo, I said “It’s so muddy, it’s not even funny anymore.” She said, “No. It’s pretty funny!” I think I agreed, sort of? Or maybe I was just too sleepy to be frustrated.

As the sun went down on the second day on the trail, I reflected on some really strong runners that were no longer in the race. As I thought about them, I realized that some of them had become my friends. We had recently lost runners that I thought would have made it through the second day: Frank Lanno, Tanner Lee, Jeffrey Adams, and Tyler Keenan were the most recent.

After 150 miles of running, we lined up to face the night loop on the road again promptly at 7:30 pm, and there were now only 8 of us remaining. I stepped onto the road and felt… okay. It was actually not that bad. I met Josh Laker, and he was energetic and seemed strong! Tara, Josh, and I talked for a bit and then they moved ahead. Next, I talked to Kyle Kalbus for a bit, and then I backed off. I realized I needed a new rhythm for the road yards that would work for me, so I hacked at it alone. I finished this yard and tied my PR from Capital Backyard Ultra of 37 hours and 154.16 miles.

At the start line for hour 38, I learned that Chad Coomes did not finish the previous loop and there were now only 7 of us. The race appeared to be advancing quickly, and I was no longer sure who would be able to make it through this second night. I just felt good enough to go on another loop.

If I remember correctly, Josh, Tara, and Kyle were leading the race at this point, and I tended to run with Dan Yovichin (another legend) and Mike Rowe at a bit of a slower pace.

The night was FREEZING. It was even colder than the first night! But luckily there was nowhere near as much wind. So as the middle of the night drew near, several things happened in rapid succession. First, Kyle stopped after 40 yards. Next, Jennifer finished yard 41 with one second to spare. Following, (to my astonishment), Tara quickly turned back during yard 42. Lastly, Jennifer did not finish yard 43. Suddenly and sadly, there were no more women left in the race, but they had toughed out some nasty conditions.

Into the second half of the second night, it was now just Josh leading the yards up ahead and Dan, Mike, and myself shuffling along close together. The 3 of us usually only split apart from one another in select areas of the night loops where one of us would walk, take a pee break off the side of the road, or slow down a little when running.

Dan led a couple loops for Mike and me at a little slower pace than I was used to, and I thought at the time that it was just strategy for us to build strength. In hindsight, it’s possible that it was foreshadowing what was to come.

About a mile and a half into the 45th yard, Dan told me something to the effect of, “I’m going to turn back now. My legs are shot.” I quickly told him something like, “No, Dan. You need to finish this loop!” Mike and I ran together for a bit towards the turn around point, and I kept looking behind me to make sure Dan was still with us. He was for a while, but then he was nowhere to be seen.

At the start of the 46th yard, I learned that Dan did not finish the last yard. I was kinda bummed. Josh continued to lead the night loops, and Mike and I slowly shuffled together as we crossed our fingers that we would hear the birds chirping in no time. Mike and I stood strong together, and yet, it was a struggle. We powered through. I wondered if he was also counting down the remaining yards to daylight in his head.

At the completion of 200 miles, we heard “Jump Around” by House of Pain at the finish line. I ran straight from the line to my tent with around 5 minutes to spare. After a quick shoe change, some lying down, and some other small things, I went over to the start line to meet Josh and Mike.

Unfortunately, it quickly seemed apparent that Mike could no longer hang with me. The frozen little mountains and valleys of mud on the trail were really uncomfortable under my blistered, tired soles. I think Mike felt that pain too. He refused to continue on to yard 50.

Now it was just Josh and me. I was too sleepy to really comprehend and celebrate that I was now either going to be “the assist” or winner of Ohio’s Backyard Ultra. My dad told me something like, “You’re now in the 50s, Dave! That’s getting close to Big’s territory!” I knew at the time that I was getting close to hitting a distance that would allow me to get into the world championship backyard ultra in Bell Buckle Tennessee: Big’s. However, I had no clue what yard would get me on the “At-large List,” and I did not have the energy to find out. I’m not sure I wanted to know either. I knew the further I went, the more likely I would be able to qualify, and I was content with just knowing that at the time.

The frozen mud on trails now became almost as squishy, sloppy, and slippery as the end of the second day. Every small step for me became more than a small step. Sometimes a step became a split under my shoes caked with mud.

I paced around the double-loop hilly trail. I was breathing hard. I was acting on short bursts of energy. My sleepy sleeplessness was bandaged together with a duct tape made of Coke Classic and caffeine strips.

“Do you want a donut, Dave?” my mom asked. “Ooo, yes.” After 216.66 miles of running, I left my tent with a sticky donut in hand and made my way to meet Josh at the start line of yard 53. It didn't pass through my mind that it would be my last loop around the muddy trails in southern Ohio.

Huge congrats to Josh for being strong and focused. 53 yards and 220.83 miles is no joke, and I’m super relieved that I went far enough to put you currently on the At-large List. Crossing my fingers I’ll see you on my laptop screen kicking it around Big’s this year! Always cheering for you, man.

A massive thanks to my mom, dad, and sister Mary for crewing me! You had to deal with rough weather, tiny hours of sleep, and my delirious replies to simple questions! We learned so much together, and I hope we can view this as a fun little family bonding adventure 😆

A big thanks to Michael Owen for being an outstanding race director and putting on a wonderful, challenging race my family and I will remember forever. There was so much warm hospitality before and after the event which meant so much to me too!

Shoutouts to all of the other competitors at the race! I know many of you met some sweet goals, worked through some tough challenges, and were super fun to run with! 🙂 I know some of you hoped to go further, and I’ll be rooting for you on your next one!

Until next time!

-Dave

Firstly, I know this is coming in a bit delayed (Ideally I would post this on new years eve or something). So, I'm sorry. Also, I was considering writing an in-depth chronological account of what happened over the year like I did last year, but I just got bored when writing it. So here's some lists!

Some highlights of 2022

• I got to represent Seattle Running Club and Brooks!

• I ran more than I ever have before.
  - 768 hours (an average of over 2 hours a day)
  - 4.9k miles (an average of over a half marathon a day)
  - 430k feet of vertical gain (an average of over a thousand feet a day)
  - At least a mile every day

• I got some new PRs.
  - A 3:06 50K
  - A 2:37 marathon during the 50K
  - A 1:16 half marathon
  - 70 reps of Howe Stairs in Seattle (this is important)

• I completed my first 100K! (I DNF’d my first one last year)

• I got a couple of unsupported FKTs.
  - Snoqualmie Valley Trail (50K)
  - Burke Gilman Trail, out-and-back (40mi)

• I ran in some races.
  - Cherry Blossom Half Marathon in Seattle
  - Boston Marathon
  - Never Summer 100K in northern CO (highly recommend!)
  - Hellgate 100K++ in VA

• I ran in some backyard ultras (shout out to my family and Chris Wu for crewing!)
  - Capital Backyard Ultra – 37 yards, DNF
  - Andy’s Backyard Ultra – 32 yards, Win and a ticket to Ohio’s BYU in March!

• I ran some epic trail runs.
  - Teanaway trails and bushwhacking in WA with Chris Wu and the Cowgill cows
  - The Pilot Ridge Loop in WA with Chris Wu
  - The Wild Oak Trail in VA with my dad and Patrick

• I did a bunch of run commuting.

• I only lost 1 toenail.

• Besides some small discomforts that came up here and there, I didn’t get any memorable running injuries.

• I ate a lot of pie during my ultra training.

• I ran in some fun annual holiday season runs
  - Winter solstice run on the Rivanna trail in my hometown of C'ville
  - A fun 12 days of Christmas track workout at Western Albemarle HS

Some things that did not go so well in 2022

• My glorious FKT on the SVT was beaten by Ben Brown – the guy I took it from – just 1 month later (Way to go, Ben).

• My poor metatarsals flared up pretty badly during the last month of marathon training (I had to end a good amount of speed workouts early, since the pain was pretty sharp. Luckily, it gradually dissipated throughout the rest of the year once I stopped doing as many speed workouts).

• The Cherry Blossom Half Marathon did not go as well as I hoped.

• I bonked pretty hard at mile 16 in Boston.

• I peed my pants during an FKT attempt.

• I DNF’d at Capital Backyard Ultra.

• I broke some ribs by falling on a metal bridge in Marsh Island in Seattle. Just a month away from Never Summer 100K 😬. But they healed, yay!

• I bonked roughly halfway into Never Summer 100K.

• I missed a turn at around mile 34 during Hellgate. Yippee!

Last year, I wrote some running goals for myself. Let’s see what goals I completed in 2022!

• "Run in a race in Seattle" ✅

• "Somehow PR in the Boston marathon" ❌

• "Get 48+ loops in a backyard ultra (at Capital or Andy's Backyard Ultra)" ❌

• "Redeem myself by finishing a 100k (at Never Summer 100k in Colorado)" ✅

• "Get some FKTs" ✅

• "Grow back some toenails" ✅

• "Run every day?" ✅

• "Run at least 3,200 miles" ✅

As you can see, I did not complete all of those goals, but I tried?

This year, I have some new goals!

• Do 100 reps of Howe Stairs (this is important).

• Finish Ohio’s Backyard Ultra 😆

• Run very far ⭐ (will reveal more about this next month?)

• Get an FKT.

• Keep running every day I guess…

• Run at least 5,000 miles? 🤷

• Don’t get injured please.

Okay, I guess that's all I have to write. Stay tuned for some more updates later!

-Dave

It was the end of May 2022 and I was ‘power-hiking’ up a decent sized hill in the woods at Capital Backyard Ultra. I was giving it my best hiking effort. I was trying not to lose time during this loop. Then, Kevin McCabe FLEW past me and stated kindly “I’m a good hiker.”

Despite my running volume, speed workouts, consistency, and being able to eat a family sized pack of Oreos in one sitting before a run, it dawned on me that I, Dave Kwiatkowski, was an absolutely shitty hiker.

I struggled through the second day and my walking pace sucked more and more. Eventually, walking or hiking just wasn’t an option, because it was just too slow. 1 mile through the 38th loop, I could no longer run, so I had nothing. That was the end of my running adventure at Capital.

There is this 153 foot vert staircase in Seattle called “Howe Street Stairs” about a mile from where I live. Most weekends throughout the summer and early fall, I’d shuffle over there and spend a few hours running and hiking on those steps. I sacrificed so much time on those guys, but I had little indication that it was actually doing anything positive for my hiking speed. So I just had to cross my fingers that I’d become a glorious power walker after the taper.

I rolled up to Andy’s Backyard on a Saturday morning in mid October and jogged over to my tent with a cooler of Tailwind in my arms. This year, the tent areas and bib number were seeded by prior backyard ultra performances. Based on my performance at Capital, I had scored tent #2, baby! I was #2. That being said, I had some impressive tent neighbors. And you never know who else will go the distance! Here was some of the competition:

#4 was the happy, calm, and positive Marc Hengartner. Often found smiling and laughing, he kept the energy high as he encouraged other runners. Marc was a big part of what kept me going throughout those tough night loops last year at Andy’s. His goal was to get to 100 miles last year, so he chose not to continue after 24 hours, though most of us believed that he could have gone further. After he completed his 24th yard, he continued running around the start line to wait for his watch to indicate he ran exactly 100 miles.

#3 was the cool and zen Travis Walker who completed 30 yards at Capital. He was known to be very consistent and conservative with his pacing. He is often one of the last runners to start and finish each loop, which I think is a mark of wisdom in this niche sport.

And #1 was Peter Diak who achieved 39 yards at Capital. He was kind, and I had enjoyed our loops together back in May. I reached out to him after Capital hoping he'd consider attending Andy’s with me, and he did! He said he was ready to push me beyond my limits.

“[high pitched whistle noise]!” – Bundled in a couple layers of clothing, I took some steps through the chilly morning air from my tent to the start line of the race. A minute later, at 7 am sharp, the cowbell rang and we all made our way from the wide start line to the narrow bridge between the trees beside the porta potties.

Andy’s Backyard Ultra is my dad’s race, a “bronze ticket event” for Big's Backyard Ultra, where the winner gets a free, reserved entry to the competitive Ohio’s Backyard Ultra. My goal for Andy’s was to discover if my change in training from speed to vert was substantial. I hoped to run until I couldn’t or win the event.

As always, the first day loops of the backyard ultra were spent having a good time, conversing, and getting to know the other runners. I got to share some loops with my sister, Mary! We all got to really take in the scenery of this spectacular 4.17 mile field/trail loop in the Tevendales’ backyard. Filled with green, red, orange, and yellow, the trail is absolutely gorgeous in the October sun.

“Bang!”...

“Bang!”...

“Bang!”...

“Bang!”...

“Bang!”...

“Bang!”...

“Bang!”...

“Bang!”...

I could hear a fellow runner chuckling. But I was a little bummed. This meant 8 runners hit the brand new “DNF” gong as they decided not to continue the race after running 50 miles in 12 hours. The party had a little less people now. The other 14 runners and I continued under the stars, and it was noticeably quieter, and I was noticeably a bit sadder.

The night loops were a little quiet. People began to spread apart a bit, and so did the conversations. During those loops, it became apparent that some of the other runners were also struggling more here and there. As the loops went by, the number of runners left in the race dropped significantly. No one dropped after loop 20 until completing 24 last year, but this year, 2 did. In hindsight, I think we were not working as a team as much this year to help people push to 100 miles. Last year, we had a tight chain of runners all running 52 minute loops during the night, and we were all facing some sort of adversity. This year, we were running more independently.

During the late night loops, I was running 53-54 minute loops (2-3 minutes slower than the day time loops), since I was sleepy and it was harder to be confident when running on the rocky and rooty trail. I had some stomach discomfort, but a trip to the bathroom settled things.

“I’m going to drop after loop 24.” Travis told us towards the end of the night loops “At Capital, I was able to run 30 since the night loops were quicker on the flat road. This trail does not allow me much time in between the loops to rest.”

3 of us toed the start line of loop 25: Pete, Marc, and me. Not a lot of people, but I still believed that the race was nowhere close to being over. Pete and Marc looked solid, spirits seemed good, and I was feeling quite nice.

In the field after the start of loop 29, I turned around to see Marc grimacing in pain. He said that he didn’t think he could finish the loop, since he was experiencing some serious leg pain on the second day. I told him that the previous course record was 29. I said "This is the lap of meaning." I was hoping this would give him a bit of a boost to continue, but it seemed shaky. After some more grimacing and pep talk, I think I remember seeing Marc behind me getting to just about the half mile mark before he took a shortcut through the woods to get back to the start line. He decided to quit. Towards the end of this loop, I heard the gong.

So now it was just Pete and me.

My body was feeling better and better each loop, and I was hitting 51 minute splits comfortably on the second day. At some point, I met a solid looking Pete hiking up a hill a bit before the 2 mile mark and told him “I’m not gonna lie, Pete. I was thinking about it, and I can see us getting to this second night, getting PRs for both of us, and then it will be a matter of time for us to get to the next morning! We have something special going on here, Pete.”

To my surprise, he replied “Do you want me to lie?”

I told him “Whatever you want?”

and he said “I feel amazing!”

Getting ready for loop 32, I was drinking a smoothie while on my cot under the shade of my tent and was chatting to my crew (my mom and my sister <3).

About 56 minutes into the hour, Pete walked over to my tent and told me that he was done and congratulated me (I would later hear that he was experiencing some injury-like pain on this second day). My first reaction was excitement that I was about to “finish” the event.

Pete and I were on the start line for loop 32, he gave me a fist bump, and I ran off. He immediately turned back to bang the gong, symbolizing his defeat.

Throughout this loop, I spent more time thinking about how great I felt physically and how I could run forever. I thought about how happy I was that I was going to win. But then I felt an increasing sadness and disappointment that the race was going to be over after this lap, and I would not know how far I really could go.

After some celebration from my friends and family and those still at the ridiculously long event, I felt content with how the event concluded. I did feel that my hiking and walking speed improved drastically from my training, and it was being noticed by the other runners at Andy’s. I felt incredible after 32 hours of running, while I felt rather crappy in pretty much all ways after 32 hours at Capital. That seems to be an improvement, but it remains unknown if all of those weird repetitions up and down those Howe Street Stairs would have gotten me to a further distance. I suppose I’m blessed to try some more of these workouts and find out at Ohio’s Backyard Ultra on March 18th, 2023.

Shoutout to my friends and family for being part of a race to remember! Thank you Mom and Mary for crewing me and for my dad for creating the race! Thank you to the Tevendales for a beautiful course and amazing support! I cannot wait to help put on the race next year, reunite with the Andy's running community, and see how the race ebbs and flows over the years. I hope someone can get to 33 yards next year!

#runhappy #srcbrooks

I was halfway through the UROC 100k in Skylark, VA in the middle of a dark, windy night on May 1st, 2021. I was freezing, hungry, my legs barely wanted to move, and I was ready to quit. So I did, and I earned my first DNF in my first ultra race.

This failure was not easy for me to mentally overcome despite that I had run further and faster than I had ever before, proving that I had physically moved on. That status remained the same. I didn’t complete this stupid 100k. In fact, I was far from finishing it. I asked myself what went wrong countless times, and the first thing I had put on my calendar for the year of 2022 was the goal of getting back out there and completing my first freaking 100k.

“I’m so excited for this race, man!” stated my friend Chris as he turned up a tune by Rage Against the Machine in his car. He was driving us south from Walden to Gould, Colorado along a long, slightly meandering country road through farmland towards the start of our race. Though it was early and dark, we could still make out the hilly farmland to our right and the darker shaded mountain crest against the sky to our left.

I looked over at him and gave a somewhat sarcastic “Yeah, man!” The truth was – and Chris knew this too – that I was dealing with some self-diagnosed cracked ribs that I earned while going for an easy run a few weeks before the race, slamming into a metal cheese grater bridge through Marsh Island in Seattle. Every night after this, I had to decide between good sleep and waking up in pain. In other words, as a side-sleeper, I had to decide between sleeping on my right side or my left side. Last night, I opted to save myself from morning pain, and I was sleepy.

“We will start the race in 3 minutes!” exclaimed one of the race staff members at the start line into the slightly shivering crowd of ultra runners. I used to get nervous at this moment, but this year, I just stopped. I was calm. I knew that I put in a solid block of training for this race, and I was confident I could complete my one and only goal: to finish and redeem myself from my DNF – though I didn’t make it easy for myself since this race had a low of 8,000 feet and would accumulate over 14,000 feet of gain.

The first relatively flat mile of the race was embarrassing. I was towards the front of the race, and it was colder than it was at the start. I spent a solid 3+ minutes stumbling my gloves out of my vest and onto my purple fingers while running. Once my bright, yellow gloves were on, I felt like a new man. Then we took a quick turn to the right, and we started our journey hiking up the wooded trail to 7 Utes Mtn.

The top of 7 Utes was beautiful – Also, for brevity sake, the whole course was stunning, okay? If I don’t state it, assume it was gorgeous, because I cannot remember a single part of the course that was less than interesting to look at – There were sweeping views of large mountains, cool trees, and other pretty things to see. I started making my way down the mountain, and it was steep and dirty. It was a bit slippery, and my city feet weren’t really comfortable booking this thing. “Passing through!” I heard behind me. I stepped aside, and a group of about 5 fit looking guys cruised down this incline of dirt while talking and cracking jokes to one another. It stung. Yeah, it hurt that I was only 5 miles into the race and I had to voluntarily let a posse pass me.

Once at the bottom, I found myself immediately catching up and sticking with these guys. We worked our way through wide open views through wildflowers and trees to a long windy dirt road in the mountains. I stayed with this group until I took some time to consume and gather some food and drink at the first aid station at mile 11.4. It was here that Chris stayed in front of me as well. At mile 18.3, I continued the theme of taking a fair amount of time at the aid station to refuel and even took a short break in a portajohn.

Once leaving aid station 2, I realized that I was passed by about 10 runners. The stretch of the dirt road to the start of the trail to Diamond Peak proved to be difficult for me. I started feeling low in fuel, it was sunnier, and I was walking more. But once I reached the trail on the other side of the road, the nearest runners started taking more walking breaks, and my walk was as fast as theirs. The climb to the top of Diamond Peak was brutal. The climb was so steep that I hiked on my tiptoes, and runners opted to take breaks with their hands on their knees during the climb. I could make out the runners ahead of me approaching the top of the mountain, and I started eagerly picking up the effort. Then I heard a “Have you been on this climb before?” from behind me. “No,” I answered. “This is a false summit.” I reacted with a grimace.

After what I remember to be another false summit to Diamond peak, the next summit looked true. I heard an uninterrupted, faint “Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.” up from the top. I saw what looked like a white animal perched on top of a rock. Then as I tiptoed closer to it, I realized it was a stuffed unicorn with a bowl of hard candy – which I had no appetite for – and a few meters further, I overcame another false summit. Then I realized that the thumps from before were accompanied by a small band of people singing and playing Take Me Home, Country Roads. It was sensational.

I tiredly ran/walked through a wide, grassy, open mountain line. I was exhausted, and it was a struggle getting down one of my emergency gels. Arriving at the next aid station at mile 24.3. I scooped up as much food as possible, since I wasn’t sure what my stomach would like. I continued on down the trail, trying out my new food stuff. I remembered how much I disliked the taste of chocolate while running – it’s the worst – as I spat out a chunk of chewed nutella wrap from my mouth. I remember that this section was filled with tall grass and wildflowers.

Arriving at the mile 30.5 aid station, it felt like a celebration. Friends and family members of the runners sat in the shade in this loop around the aid station tents. I came in struggling, and I left rejuvenated. “I feel so much better now!” I told a staff member as I left. “That’s why we’re here!” she replied. Though I felt good, I knew that it would be a long journey to the next aid station at mile 39.7.

This energy from the last aid station was short-lived. This section was when I started hearing voluntary information from others about their discomfort. People would explain that they would normally run a certain section, but they were tired. I got to hear their full story, since I was right there with them. It was in this section that my inner quads cramped, catalyzed by making any larger movement with my legs, such as stepping over large rocks, or running down a technical trail. Then, my GPS watch was about to die, so I canceled the watch activity and switched it to clock mode. Though this section was physically strenuous for me, it was gorgeous! Boulder fields and lakes in the mountains!

After my walk on the road to the fifth aid station at mile 39.7, I went through my routine of pickle juice, electrolyte drink, and coke and went to sit in a tent shaded chair. Once I sat, I found myself looking at Chris. Wait, Chris! What was he doing here? After all of my walking, he was surely far ahead of me.

“This section was hard. Well, actually the whole course was hard!” He pointed towards a nearby trail. “It took me an hour and half to run those 4 miles.” He was at mile 44 at the same aid station. He continued down the trail. I didn’t do my pre-race research to see that there was an out and back with a shared aid station. I tiredly began my effort up this mountain climb to a lake and as I predicted, I completed the out and back in about 2 hours.

At the bottom (now at mile 44), I sat and ate a big sugary muffin as I witnessed a gentleman in the race puke in the trees.

The downhill that I saw Chris run down was as long as I hoped. It was downright peaceful after fueling at that last aid station. From here to the aid station at 50.2, I went on long sections speaking with people I ran beside. I spent this section chatting with a woman who had run the Barkley Marathons several times. Really cool. In hindsight, I forgot to ask for some inside information about the course!

At the aid station at 50.2, I heard something strange: “Are you sure you want pickle juice in your Coke?” What the… “Haha! No, that’s gross!” I realized that I asked for pickle juice and Coke, and handed them only one bottle to fill.

I left this aid station running through trails, mud, grass, and streams. Later, it started getting dark at the top of a dirt road with an open view down the mountain side. I saw a runner ahead of me fidgeting with their race vest so I asked “Is it headlamp time?” They looked behind them and smiled “I don’t want to smash my face against these big, stupid rocks!”

As I wound down through an open field lined with the occasional reflective flag, I could see a well lit village down below. I entered the mile 56.1 aid station, and as I did, a cheery woman ran beside me with a thermos sloshing in hand and asked “Want some hot chocolate with coffee?” Now. I may seem like a caffeine drinker since I have been drinking buckets of Coke during this run, but I’m not. I’ve 99.9% been off caffeine for almost a year at this point, but the sound of hot chocolate and coffee was music to my ears. “Hell, yes.”

After my normal aid station routine, I started having strong dinner cravings, and I wanted to eat anything that looked like a meal. I was handed a brisket burrito and off I went back on the trail. I took maybe 2 bites of this and put it in my pocket… for later. At the last aid station, I was told that this section was a long climb and would feel like it would last forever. I mean, I guess it did, but at this point, I was getting sleepy and had already been through the wringer. A long road climb up and a short run down later, I reached the road crossing marking 2 miles from the finish. I was so ready to get this thing done and I started picking it up.

“And here’s Dave Kwiatkowski from Seattle, Washington!” I was so happy. I redeemed myself. I un-DNF’d myself in the 100k distance. Chris was right there at the finish with a fresh set of clothes on and we gave a fist bump. “...Dave knows how to play chess…” I could make out the finish line announcer announcing. I forgot that I submitted this as my one fun fact in my race application.

Chris and I head inside the fireplace warmed shelter by the finish. “Dave, you seem really caffeinated,” Chris said. “It was all of the Coke.” I quickly replied. After some chit chat with the race participants and staff, I grabbed a hot cheeseburger and we shuffled to the car.

On the ride home, I thought to myself about how I overcame my negative thoughts and pain during the race, that I was glad that this thing was over, and that I was psyched that my friend did so well. After the last couple of bites of my cheeseburger and my appetite grew larger, I became disappointed that I didn’t get more food after the race. But then, I felt something soft in my race vest and remembered I still had my partially eaten, sweaty, brisket burrito from just a few hours before.

#srcbrooks

#runhappy

I’m at the first turnaround in the night course of the Capital Backyard Ultra, about 1 mile into the loop. I’m over 37 hours into this theoretically endless race, and I had already forgotten how to walk properly hours ago, so all I could do to keep my pace to finish the 4.167 mile loops in a manageable time within the hour was to run most of the sections my companions walked. But after making this hairpin turn on this 38th loop, I found myself unable to run. My gentle, slow run turned to a duck-footed shuffle. Seconds later, it turned to a hilariously slow walk outside of my control. I took a standing break with my hands on my knees and tried again to run, and I once again immediately slowed to a snail walk. A sad reality began to hit that my long journey was quickly coming to a screeching halt and so were my dreams of being the last one standing in this event.

Because most people do not know what backyard ultras are, I'll explain what they are. In a backyard ultra, all of the runners must start their run at the top of the hour and complete the 4.167 mile loop within the hour. If they do not finish it on time or refuse to complete the loop, they are eliminated from the race. Then, all runners start the next loop on the top of the next hour. This pattern continues until there's only one runner left, and then the race is over. This race format was created by race director Lazarus Lake in his backyard race in Tennessee called Big's Backyard Ultra. Over the years, it has become a world sport in ultra running, and the performances get more and more ridiculous every year. Those who perform the best get a spot in the championship race: Big's.

Last year at Andy’s Backyard Ultra in October, I got through 27 laps (a bit over 112 miles) and quit even with ample time to get prepared for the next loop. I had been dealing with both physical and mental barriers that made exiting the race extremely enticing, and I took that opportunity after 27 hours of running. My knees could barely bend, and it was a serious mental battle just getting through that first night of running. I found myself very bored of running and lost a lot of drive to keep going after hitting 100 miles. After talking to my Seattle Running Club coach and teammate, we also believed that some of the mental struggles may have been related to fatigue from lack of ample race nutrition.

At the beginning of 2022, I made a plan to solve both of these problems before the Capital Backyard Ultra in May. I believed that I could prevent my legs from getting sore by getting used to “higher” mileage (I defined this as multiple 100+ mile weeks). I also believed that I could prevent myself from getting bored of running by having a strong desire to find my absolute limit in the backyard ultra. This was strengthened by listening to a multitude of interviews of athletes with incredible backyard, timed race, and multi day race performances. I absorbed their lessons of what gave them mental fortitude in such long races.

At the start line of Capital, I had logged mileage that was roughly an average of 100 miles a week, a recent peak week of 146 miles, and a generously steep 3 week taper. My legs basically never got sore anymore despite the hard workouts, races, and large volume weeks of running. I knew I was ready, and I believed that I would be one of the last runners in the event, possibly earning a spot at Big’s Backyard Ultra, the championship event in backyards.

It was cool for my dad and I to be competing together in our second backyard ultra. Because of my 27 and my dad's 28 yard performances at Andy’s the previous year (which were pretty respectable), we earned ourselves some seeded locations for our tents as well as some low bib numbers to reflect that. Despite this, we both knew that there were some seriously impressive runners out there who had run 48+ yards in their qualifying races, some of them had won these races, and a handful of them had been to Big’s. We knew we were viewed as small fish in a big pond. Should we also believe this?

My dad and I set up our conjoined canopies which would be our home for the next 2-3 days. My sister Mary came to crew us, and I was blown away at just how effortless it felt for us to work together! She made warm food, spoon-fed me apple sauce at times, and even put up my hanging sparkly stars which I thought would give me an edge in getting more sleep during the event. She was also there filming the event and had a positive attitude the entire time! She was amazing! I was very impressed at how she crewed both my dad and myself and it felt to me like I had a personal crew. I was psyched that my friend Chris Wu (the gifted trail runner) came to help me as well! I was spoiled with both friends and family as crew during the event.

Because I realized I was the only runner from Washington at the race, Mary put up the Washington state flag just outside the entrance of my tent so all of my competitors would know and to give me a sense of pride. Scott Snell (who would win the race at 61 yards) waved to me and commented on it. The 2 of us would run together for many of the loops as well.

At the start of the first day loop of the race at 8 am, my plan was just to keep things extremely easy and get to know as many people as possible. I knew that as the event went on, people would likely get a bit more tired and serious, so I liked framing the first 12 hours as the party-portion of the race where everyone is still happy to chit chat. I also knew that I was setting myself up for some closer bonds with some runners who may still be there much later in the race. I wanted to increase my chances of having a sort of social crew during the race when I needed it most.

After this first trail loop, I immediately recognized I could get a 50 minute loop (which most would say is ideal) by walking every uphill and lightly running everything else. Perfect. At the end of this loop, I went to the bathroom, and met with my sister in our large canopy-house to help me get ready for the next loop.

Throughout the event, I employed my new strategy of eating my food during the last 10 minutes of the loop. In this time slot, I primarily ate mashed potatoes, Fig Newtons, Pringles, Uncrustables, and pie (a lot of pie). In my mind, eating during the end of the loop theoretically would allow me to digest my food once I got back to the camp, when my heart rate was low, and all of my food was already chewed and swallowed and in my stomach. As the event went on, this proved to at least not cause any digestion issues at all during the event. I cannot say for certain if this allowed me to consume more calories or anything like that, but at least it allowed me to not have to worry about eating food once I got back to the site.

During the first day, I realized a couple people were taking a pee break in the trees just before the finish of the trail loop, and I thought this was a genius idea. This meant I would not have to wait for the bathroom once I got back, and I also had the opportunity to skip this break if time were to run close at the finish. Thanks, Pete Diak for showing me this strategy.

As the weather approached the upper 80s on this first day, Chris insisted that I put ice in my running hat, and a loop after, we started putting ice in a bandana around my neck, which I’m sure paid off big time, as I witnessed other runners drop out due to overheating. The ice would start off being just a tad uncomfortable, but would gradually melt ice water down my head and back, cooling myself as I ran.

At 8 pm, the first night loop started, and I was thrilled to get some cooler weather and transition into what I was most familiar with, road running! We ran through the tiny field section to cross the road to the bike trail along the road. Once setting our first steps on the pavement, the other runners and I realized that this was not quite as desirable as we imagined it would be. The pavement was hard, and our feet were tired and used to the soft, cushy field and trails of the day loops. As this night loop went on, I became more accustomed to the change, and found a bit of a rhythm. At the finish of this loop, I’d use the portapotty just across the road in the field by the finish to continue my pee break strategy. I could finish the night loop by walking all of the uphills and still have ~15 minutes in between the loops to also get some bonus shut-eye. I had heard enough times that getting sleep is important in these night loops if you want to go far in these events.

As expected, about halfway through this first night, I began to get bored. I realized I was thinking too far ahead in the event; I thought about getting to the day loops again, to the 100 mile mark, to my personal record of 27 loops, to 150 miles, to 200 miles, etc. which caused me to realize that this 4.16 mile loop does not contribute very much to those milestones. I asked myself “what am I doing?” I then sleepily began to create a metaphor which would allow me to keep myself present. I figured out that if I framed my fellow runners I could see ahead of me as classmates in line walking on a field trip, I felt like I was being pulled along. Furthermore, if I imagined that these runners and I were on a sort of magical field trip, this silly event didn’t need to make sense. By telling myself that we were classmates on The Magic School Bus, everything seemed to mentally click. On this bus, it’s not about the destination; it’s all about the journey. Whenever I felt myself drifting or having negative thoughts, I just said the words “Magic School Bus” to myself, and I was instantly focused and uplifted.

At the end of the 22nd hour, I asked Aaron Ellison (a runner that I was running with a lot during these night loops) if he wanted to race me across the road on our way to the finish. With tired legs, we both “sprinted” across. I think it’s a bit unclear who won, but we enthusiastically agreed to have a rematch at the end of the second night.

After the first 2 loops of the second set of day loops (the 100 mile mark), the majority of the field still remained, and in my eyes, the number of competitors did not really seem to have changed from 24 hours before. But what did change was some of the enthusiasm and pep from some of the athletes. At roughly the halfway point in the day loop, there’s an exit of the wooded trails and onto a field. A couple minutes later, there’s a hairpin turn, and there I could see the faces of the competition who were coming up behind me. On the first day, once I passed by this wooded exit, most of the runners would have already exited it. Most of the runners were chatting, smiling, and laughing. After words of encouragement, they would often smile and give encouragement back! But on this second day, I began to see tired, unresponsive, and sometimes ghost-like faces. And some of the runners would only just be exiting the woods when I passed. I could tell that they were likely getting ready to drop from the race.

On loop 29, my dad was one of those runners, and it dawned on me that this loop might be his last. Sure enough, my dad finished the loop and denied all encouragement and good-natured bullying from the cheerleading food-givers at the race to start another loop. I later found out that the heat was really impacting him, and he was struggling to find motivation to keep going. It was hard seeing him leave the race, since he had always beaten me in these long races, and I truly believed we would both be making it to the second night and even to the third day of running.

In the afternoon of the second day, there were about 20 of us left in the race. My walking began to be really slow and the cadence was comical. It was so slow that at least a couple people passed me every uphill. With this, I started running a lot of the smaller uphills that most people would walk. My easy running pace was generally faster than most of my competitors, so even with this hiccup, I still finished the loop right there with the best of them. The legendary Jennifer Russo and I finished our loops roughly together each time despite our different pacing strategies. She told me “we’re playing leapfrog, aren’t we?”

I was looking forward to the night loops since I knew that they didn't have many steep uphills. It was possible for me to run the entire route without being fatigued from it. I was regularly telling my competitors about my excitement for the change as well.

Come the second night at the top of the 37th hour, the event put on their laser lights again, blasted some pump up music, and I was so excited to get back on the road. I’m sure most people in the race at this point thought I was a goner given my sluggish walking, but I bet I surprised some people with my high jumps as the start line on this first night loop. I’m pretty sure I may have impressed onlooking Lazarus Lake as well.

Usually there were a group of runners that went fast off of the blocks, but on this second night, the pace of all of the runners started to tighten to somewhere in the middle. Later, I realized that most of these "faster" runners had dropped from the race, or this loop would be their last.

Hitting the sidewalk again, I really started to notice the impact of the surface on my feet. My feet and foot blisters were not as enthusiastic about this change as I was. At the first small uphill across the road from the start, I shuffled past my competitors, and continued to shuffle to the 1 mile mark hairpin turn. My similarly paced runners Aaron Ellison and Jennifer Russo were starting to employ a strategy of walking more and running slower, and I explained to them that I couldn’t walk their pace any more. When I tried to run that slow, I would begin to walk and doze off. I told them I needed to run the whole loop and I needed to run a bit faster. To my surprise, both of them agreed to run a bit faster to keep up with my run pace to keep the squad intact. They also encouraged me to keep it up and I would surely get through the loop.

During this 37th loop, I started seeing things not the way they actually were. On the way back from the second turnaround in the loop, I saw what I thought was a witch with a white mask peeking behind a phone pole, grinning at me. Staring at it as I passed it, I realized that it was two rolled up cable lines connected to a white electrical box. That’s all it was.

I had ample time for a restroom break just before the end of this 37th loop, and still had 7 minutes to spare after. This loop actually went by pretty quickly, and I was looking forward to grinding out more night loops.

At the start line of the 38th yard, it was no different than the 37th. I was wide-eyed and all ready to go. But running this loop was a little different. I tried to “sprint” (go for a faster pace) off of the start line as I usually did to build some momentum, but it quickly turned to a walk. I tried again, and again, a walk. I think I could hear “uh oh”s from the onlooking crowd at the start line. My dad and sister later told me that they were told that it took a full, ridiculously slow 3 minutes for all of the runners to get across the road to the bike trail. I know I may have been one of those runners.

Once I got to the bike trail, I found my groove again, and I was off. I passed a few people, and I was back in there. All until the first hairpin turn. I found myself completely unable to run at this turn around at the first mile. It was as if my body had forgotten how to run. I lost any sense of cadence and had zero pep in my step whatsoever. I was shuffling at 1 mile an hour, sleepily weaving back and forth across the sidewalk like a lost duck as the few people I passed ran past me. Each of them gave me words of encouragement.

With my hands on my knees, I realized my race was coming to an end. Without being able to walk nor run, I sloppily shuffled my feet back to the road crossing (the halfway point of the night loop), and looked down at my watch. It read 36 minutes when it normally read 19. I knew all hope was lost, and I made my way back to the start line to turn in my timing chip and accept my DNF at the Capital Backyard Ultra.

After explaining that I had forgotten how to run and that I would have timed out on the loop, I was met with applause, listening faces, a handshake and thank-you from race director Sarah Smith, and a surprised “It looked like you were just building strength!” from the legend himself, Lazarus Lake.

Though I did not reach 200 miles and did not earn a spot in Big’s Backyard on the US team, I earned something invaluable. I found my physical limit at Capital Backyard Ultra, and it just so happened to be at 37 yards and 154 miles. I’m chalking this experience up as a prerequisite for me getting to Big’s, and I am trusting the process. Until next time!

Fun fact, as of the end of this race, I now have the 98th best backyard performance in the world and the 40th best performance in the US.

#srcbrooks #runhappy

After all of my focus on marathon training up to Boston, I wanted to gauge my ultramarathon condition and practice some race nutrition. The day before, I was toying around with some different options, and I realized that Seattle's 40 mile Burke-Gilman Trail out-and-back FKT attempt would be a solid option for me. I was pretty psyched about this attempt, since this is arguably one of Seattle's most popular trails. I reached out to my running friend Chris Wu and we made a plan for the next day.

Chris drove me to Golden Gardens while giving me a nice tour of the parts of the trail that I did not remember in Ballard. He dropped me off at the start sign (which was hard for me to find) and took some sweet pics from the start.

My original plan was to average about 8 minute pace since the focus for me was on nutrition and not going super fast... and that's what I told Chris beforehand as he planned his day around picking me up 😅. After the first 10 miles, picking up the pace felt nice, and thus began my progression run.

On the way to Bothell, the light rain made me feel right at home to my other FKT attempts in Seattle which all involved rain. On the way back to Golden Gardens, the sky began to open up to a nice, sunny day. My Tailwind+Gu nutrition plan was working super nicely, since I was in the sweet spot of not feeling depleted and not feeling too full. The run felt very nice and very smooth. It felt nice.

I left a little voice message to Chris when I was 10 miles away from the finish to give him the surprise news that I was going to finish about 40 minutes before the original plan…

After my 5:50 pace kick to the finish to average 6:53 pace, I got a picture taken from my stranger bicyclist friend and sluggishly shuffled my way over to the conveniently located "Little Coney" and enjoyed a vanilla shake and sprite (since that's all I could stomach) as I waited for Chris at the beach.

After that, we had a celebratory meal at Ballard's "Un Bien" (though I only had a few bites) and chatted a about our morning runs. What a nice start to the weekend.

Shoutout to Greg Nance for setting the original FKT and for currently running across the country! As always, shoutout to Chris for accommodating me for my FKT attempts!

I’m huddled in a crowd of feet wearing any super-shoe you could imagine, and I am facing the US flag, flying overhead people from all over America and around the world. A pretty impressive national anthem ends, and I look up to see a team of jet planes shatter through air over the downhill start of the race. I could feel the sense of wonder in the crowd, and I was eager to start my run towards Boston.

The morning of The Boston Marathon, my father and I walked over to the T in our cozy clothes from H&M we got the night before – he wore a matching set of white sweat clothes, and I had some gold rain pants and a kid’s XL sweatshirt that read “Weekend mode 24/7” with a gaming controller on it. We timed the trains nicely and the next thing we knew, we were facing a line of drop-bag buses just outside of the Boston public garden. By miracle, I ran into my friend Bill (what?!) from the Seattle Fleet Feet group runs and we exchanged some good-lucks.

After the long and quiet bus ride to the Hopkinton middle school, I arrived at the athletes’ village: a field full of porta potties and people trying to stay warm for a couple of hours. Here, I lay down in a sunny spot under the large tent with a nice stranger-friend from Brazil who offered getting a cup of Gatorade for me. How cool of him!

A couple of hours later, I jogged and walked with a crowd to the start line of the race while tossing the newly bought clothes to the side (for charity). Not too much longer after getting to the start line, I saw the famous Alexi Pappas wave to us. The national anthem followed, and the race began!

I started the race with the plan to hit the times that my workouts seem to say I am capable of (in my eyes): 5:55 mile pace. This felt nice, especially while being accommodated by nearly constant cheering and support along the course and passing by some legendary runners (like Mike Wardian and Shalane Flanagan) who were pacing others. Through the first 14 miles or so, the pace was basically on the money, but I was beginning to tell that something with my nutrition was off – I was getting chest cramps and was not feeling as much of an energy boost off of my gels like I normally would. I didn't have a bottle of Tailwind like I normally would in my hard effort runs, so thus began my new tactic of grabbing orange gatorade from volunteers’ hands and sloppily splashing them in my mouth every mile. My pace was no longer exactly locked in.

Mile 16 was met with the beginning of all of “the hills” in the course, and I was not able to get over the hills like I had during my training runs. My pace really started to slow, and my goal transitioned from getting my top goal time (<2:37) to getting a PR (<2:42:42).

I was being passed left and right, but I was able to hover around a 6:30 pace for the last group of miles in the race. During the last few miles of the race, my goal pivoted from getting a PR to just completing the race in one piece. Despite my attempts to draft off of the multiple runners in the race, they had some energy that I just did not, and I was moving at a speed that was considerably slower than my average pace.

I crossed the line hands on knees and managed to shuffle slowly over to the family meeting area while getting a decent amount of attention from the medical crews. I slowly eased myself down onto a sunny curb next to a hooded, bearded man, and then realized I just sat down next to my high school teammate and inspiration, Austin! How crazy! We chatted a bit about the race and our training, and my spirits were lifted.

With a time of 2:43:35, I did not hit my most ambitious time goals and was just a bit short from a PR (kind of cool), but I felt that I gave it my best effort. Maybe I should not have chosen to eat that caprese salad the night before the race and instead gone with something with a bit more carbs, and maybe I should have stuck to my trusty plan of drinking Tailwind during the race to get more sodium. Though my ego does not want to believe it, it's also possible that I went out at a pace that was beyond my capability for that day. Nevertheless, I felt happy. I just gave my best effort and completed my second marathon race, Boston!

Special thanks to my parents for inspiring me to train to be able to run a marathon, get a Boston qualifying time, and run in the Boston marathon. Also, thank you to my sister and parents for making the weekend an enjoyable vacation from work and caring for my depleted and somewhat unresponsive self after the race. Shoutout to my friends and Dad for completing this race too! Very cool.

I'm passing over an old railroad bridge with a gorgeous view to my left of trees and mountains in the pacific northwest. I'm halfway through a wonderful 50 kilometer rails-to-trails run, and I'm comfortably averaging 6 minute miles. This is the best runner's high I ever felt before. I'm elated... and surprised.

Three days prior, I was asking around trying to figure out if a tide measurement of 2.8 feet was too high to run along the beach from Seattle to Everett for an FKT attempt over the weekend. With mixed answers, I started trying to figure something else out. My friend Chris sent me a link to Ben Brown's Snoqualmie Valley Trail FKT. I assumed he meant I could try to go for solely a non-supported record. I was all about it.

The night before, I stopped at Fleet Feet to pick up some gels since I was running out of my favorites. "What are you training for?" said the nice employee.

"I'm making an FKT attempt at the Snoqualmie Valley Trail tomorrow."

As I'm putting gels in the bag to purchase... "Woah, you're shooting for a 3:09 50K? That's rolling!"

"Oh, haha, no. That's too fast. I'm shooting for about 6:20 pace or so. I'm going for just the unsupported time that doesn't exist yet."..."Yeah, Ben is quick."

On the way to the trailhead at Rattlesnake Lake, we were taking turns discussing VDOT and v02 max racing predictions for my run.

As I'm messing with the laces of my new shoes during some warm up jogging, I'm planning out how I'll be averaging some quicker miles at the start just to bank some time up before I inevitably start feeling fatigue and start slowing down to a more reasonable pace.

After about the first 9 miles as I hiked down some steps off the bridge onto the short road section, I looked at my watch and laughed at how I was running faster than what Ben averaged. I had a not so subtle feeling that I was making a fool of myself. But it felt about right.

Once I got back on the trail at about 12 miles after the one hill of the course, I was feeling like this was my weekly tempo run. It was feeling solid while I was still knocking out some record pace miles.

As I ran across the bridge about half way through the route, that feeling of impostor syndrome was starting to wear off, and I was feeling great. Every mile completed felt like I was removing a layer of doubt around the idea of getting the overall best on the trail.

A couple of friendly cyclists gradually passed me and said "You're making us embarrassed. You're moving!"

Approaching mile 18, I felt how my sips of Tailwind were just barely combatting cramps, and my gel every 5 miles really felt like it was keeping me in the fight. With 2 scoops of Tailwind in each of my 2 bottles and 5 gels throughout the run, my stereotypical race nutrition strategy felt dialed in.

This was my first 50K effort, and I now appreciate the distance. At about mile 20, I was enjoying how I could look forward to mile 25 to eat another gel, then look forward to the marathon mark since it's a marathon, then look forward to 27 since it mean I only have a backyard ultra loop left, then look forward to 28 since it's just a 5K left, etc.

A bit later, I realized that I told Chris that I was going to finish at about 3:15, and I was somehow on pace for 3:06. But I was still hopeful he could see me finish.

I got to the strange end of the trail where it's basically like this weird gravel parking lot ish thing and stopped my watch. I collapsed on this nice flat rock while simultaneously removing a bag of dog poop from where I needed to lie down. While I was on my back, I looked dumbfounded at the tree lined white dreary sky.

I waited several minutes.

I looked over to my left off of the rock to see my friend run up to me at the end of the trail.

"Chris, guess what happened?"

"Uh..., you got a 3:05." What the heck, Chris.

"Chris, I got a 3:06:something. I did it!"

"You've been running a lot, you've been putting in some good workouts, it seemed like you could do it. That's why I sent that link to you."

As we were eating some excellent burgers at Tipsy Cow in Redmond, I realized that Chris knew my capabilities more than I did, and I needed to reframe my expectations of myself.

Link to the FKT

#srcbrooks

#runhappy

TLDR

• I DNF'd my first 100k

• I lost 5 toenails

• I got some injuries

• I ran my first marathon race & BQ'd

• I got 2 FKTs

• I met a lot of amazing people in the Cap Hill Fleet Feet and Seattle Running Club groups

• I got past 24 loops at my first backyard ultra

• I got some podium finishes

• My friends are awesome!

• I'm on the SRC-Brooks team in 2022

• I've got some big plans for next year

• I had a great deal of success this year and deserve some humbling I think...

Building a base

I went into this year with the goal of completing my first 100k, possibly circumnavigating Lake Washington, and trying my best at my first Backyard Ultra. In order to do all of this to the best of my ability, I wanted to ramp up my mileage from a modest 20 mile week after injury to something ideally close to the 100s before my 100k attempt in May.

Without any running groups that I knew of to meet with (and the fact that I am not very good at convincing people to run with me) I spent the first half of the year getting excited about the marks on my calendar that included increases in mileage of about 10% a week -- I was eager to start running hour-plus runs during the weekdays and multi-hour runs in the weekends. Without any running events before May, this is actually all I cared about to keep me running. I was also pretty psyched as I had completed something close to a 100 day run streak after a few months.

100k attempt

Once May came around, I was eager to run in the UROC 100k in VA with my dad. On top of a Vineyard field, I stared down at the race start as the wind blew on my face and knocked down nearby porta potties. I threw on an additional windbreaker to keep me warm.

On the starting line during dinner time, my stomach was not feeling too well. I thought I could brush it off during the race. The race consisted of extreme vert changes on gravel roads, but my fitness in Seattle from the hilly streets gave me what I needed to not be set back from this. Keeping a good pace, I entered mile 18 of the race and my stomach began to turn. Taking multiple stops in the bushes and feeling extremely drained as the wind pushed my cold body on the top of the open air vineyard, I was feeling horrible at the halfway point. I ate some soup at this aid station, but it was too late. I felt done and was mentally ready for my first ultra race DNF after 50k (also, I'm a wuss).

Getting faster than I thought

I came out of the 100k DNF with a hip injury, so I decided to stop running here and there. Once it wore off, I started picking up my mileage in the early Summer and enjoyed meeting with the now open Fleet Feet running meetups and the Seattle Running Club Wednesday workouts. These groups of people are awesome, cool, and amazing! I was picking up some speed as well during my weekend 20 mile runs across the 2 bridges loop that connects Seattle with the east side.

After a few of some faster 20 mile runs, I went into a 2 bridges loop run with the intent of going about 6:45 pace, which would be my fastest pace for one of these. After feeling pretty good for the first 6 miles, I decided mid-run to see if I could complete a marathon at this pace. Clocking in at 2:56:something, I earned my first sub-3 marathon and second marathon in distance. This was Boston's qualifying pace.

After calling my dad about this exciting news directly after my run, he was psyched and told me I should enter a marathon race in Seattle so I could run with him in Boston in 2022. I quickly signed up for a marathon that would be a month later. This would be my first marathon race and perhaps my first Boston qualifier.

Running a marathon on a downhill trail

At the start line of the Tunnel Vision Marathon, I was feeling amazing. My running friend and trail running expert Chris was in the race, and my disc golf friend Zach drove us there to help us. Thanks Zach and Chris! You guys are the best friends ever :). I looked over my left shoulder and saw a tall, young kid at the start grimacing as he psyched himself up. He looked over at me with a friendly smile and said "Nice shorts!" -- we were wearing the same wild space themed racing shorts, and I thought to myself that I just had to beat this kid whatever it took. I didn't want to be space themed racing shorts guy #2 at the finish line.

The race was fast. Going out quicker than I intended, I found myself and the pack increasing our mile pace from 6:25 to 6:15 pace for the first 5 miles or so. Once hitting 6:10 pace, I met up with the other space shorts runner who was far ahead of the pack for those early miles. To my surprise, he did not pick up the pace when I got to him, and I continued at 6:10 pace or lower alone for the rest of the race with no one in sight ahead or behind me.

I crossed the line with a 2:42:42, and learned that I was actually in 3rd and not 1st, LOL. The other 2 leading runners were 6 minutes ahead of me or so, and were too far ahead for me to see. Basically, I learned that even when you run a certain pace, there's always others who are better than you :). Regardless, I was psyched about my marathon debut! But now, I had one of my main goals for the year ahead of me: Lake Washington.

Running around the lake

Towards the end of the Summer, all I cared about was going around Lake Washington. This would be my first FKT attempt, and I wanted to do it in an unsupported style. After telling others I was going to go for this goal, I learned that a good amount of people in Seattle did not know what Lake Washington was...

After running multiple 20+ mile runs and back-to-back weekend long runs, I was feeling great as I headed south from the UW Station. Once I got to downtown Bellevue at about mile 26, I started realizing this run was going to get harder. Once I got to mile 40 on the north side of the lake, I started cramping a lot. My sodium intake was not enough. I got extremely rapid leg cramps for the last 8 miles back to the start and a couple of charlie horses.

I was delighted when I finished this in record unsupported and self-supported time, but all of those leg cramps would amount to something more serious.

Preparing to run without end

At this point, Andy's Backyard Ultra was just over a month away, and I had no idea what running a backyard ultra was like. So the night 5 days after the Lake Washington Loop FKT, I had a plan to run my own backyard ultra test run. Through those 5 recovery days, I noticed my right knee's MCL was feeling pretty weird...

A bit before 7:00 pm on that Friday, my friend Chris met up with me at my apartment in Cap Hill Seattle. He's always down to run these long runs. I had moved my small dining table and a couple of chairs to my front door mudroom area, and we laid out our Tailwind, snacks, running gear, Chris' sandwiches, and my candy, bananas, and mashed potatoes.

We set off at 7:00 pm on the dot to my preplanned loop around Cap Hill's smallish sized meeting green: Volunteer park. Not too much longer, we were caught in a downpour of rain that would last throughout the entire night and early morning. A 50k later of backyard ultra style 4.16667 mile loops every hour on the hour, Chris decided to go home, and I didn't blame him at all. That was really impressive for him!

I ran the last loops alone to my preplanned 50 mile mark of 12 loops. At 7:00 am on Sunday, I finished my backyard ultra prep run and had a pretty good idea about what the whole thing was about. On my next day's run, I would realize that my MCL was severely damaged at this point.

Getting through injury and Andy's backyard

Shortly after this backyard ultra prep run, I was in Acadia national park in Maine with my parents. We camped in the woods, went hiking a ton, and I attempted a few times to run. Each of these runs sucked; every step and the inside of my right knee flared, causing me to run in a messed up pitter patter.

Now the week before Andy's backyard ultra, I was in my hometown trails, and my knee pain basically faded away completely. I was ready.

At Andy's my plan was to get through the first 50 miles of day loops by socializing etc, and then be familiar with the second 50 miles since I already did my night loop training. I would stretch in between the loops and get myself to eat as much as possible, closely resembling the strategy I read from previous Big's backyard ultra winner Maggie Guterl. You can read that here.

6 of us got to 100 miles at Andy's then a couple dropped. A lap later and I was one of 3 remaining. At this point, the event seemed to be fizzling out; only a handful of people and tents were still there, and I was told that I could pull the plug on the event at any time. These things messed with my head quite a bit, and I found myself lacking motivation to go further.

I ended my go at the event voluntarily after 27 loops, and I learned that motivation to keep going means everything in a backyard ultra. I also learned that backyard ultras are super fun and I enjoyed every minute getting to know everyone I could at the event :).

Winter trail racing and an FKT in Virginia

After some higher mileage fall training in Seattle, I returned to Virginia to spend time with my family during the holiday season with my eyes set for setting the FKT for running twice around the Rivanna Trail in Charlottesville, VA.

A week before my attempt, I went to Cumberland, VA with my family and raced a crazy 10 mile trail run through leaves, creeks, and streams. You could hardly see the trail for the first 3 miles. I'm not kidding. I surprised myself by getting first in this race. Pretty cool!

The Rivanna Trail FKT attempt was a blast. I was pretty fit for it, and got the overall FKT by about 6 minutes, granted I wasted 7 minutes by taking a wrong turn on the second loop. Because of this, I'll be back out there again next year if I can. Maybe?

Plans for this year

I'll be 1 of 10 runners in the Seattle Running Club Brooks team this year, so I want to represent them and Brooks well! This year, I'm thinking bigger. I finished 2021 at 3,119 miles over 326 days of running. Can I run further and more frequently? Here's some goals I have:

• Run in a race in Seattle

• Somehow PR in the Boston marathon

• Get 48+ loops in a backyard ultra (at Capital or Andy's Backyard Ultra)

• Redeem myself by finishing a 100k (at Never Summer 100k in Colorado)

• Get some FKTs

• Grow back some toenails

• Run every day?

• Run at least 3,200 miles

#SRCBrooks #RunHappy

Link to the FKT

About 2 months before the attempt:

As a Charlottesville native and enjoying long-distance running, going after a Rivanna Trail FKT was a no brainer. First, I did what likely everyone does and checked the current FKT attempts. I knew my Dad held the 5-loop record, and I instantly ruled that out… since it’s uh, ridiculous. I checked out Neal Gorman’s record, and I realized I wasn’t in shape enough for getting the record in today’s longer route. I know someone will do it, but I’m not the one. Luckily, I enjoyed ultra running, so I checked out the double loop record held by Nicholas DiPirro. I decided I was going to get after it.

The months leading up to the attempt:

I “trained” for it, yada yada yada in my current city, Seattle.

A week before the attempt:

I studied Nicholas’ report and decided to do the same route with the minor alterations by the RTF. Because the route had changed quite a bit over the years, I split the route in 3 parts and ran a section with my dad for a few days to get familiar with it.

Night before the attempt:

I prepared my 2 running vest bottles and 2 handhelds with Tailwind and stuffed 7 gels and 3 salt tablets in their pockets.

The attempt:

My dad dropped me off at Bodos on 29, snapped a photo of me, and I began waiting for the walk signal to turn on, which avoids the first loop’s long traffic light (pro tip). I went out in the counterclockwise direction since it tackles what is in my opinion to be the hardest stretch of the route (pro tip). My game plan was to positive split the loops, since it felt better to my brain. I theorized that I would need to shoot for about 7:50 pace or so for the first loop to comfortably beat the overall record.

The first loop exceeded my expectations and clocked in at about 2:40:09, which is about 7:43 pace. The second loop did not exceed my expectations…

I stuffed my empty handheld bottles and gloves in the back of my vest. I knew once I got to Fontaine on my second loop, I would have the hardest section of the loop over with, so that thought pushed me through it.

Approaching Azalea Park on the second loop, I employed my familiar strategy of giving myself audible compliments. This included “Good job,” “Awesome,” “Heck yeah,” “You got this,” “Nice work,” and “Nice.” Throughout the run, I told myself in my head “In a strange way, we’re almost there” which usually made me laugh out loud and smile (pro tip).

Things really took a turn for the worse (pun incoming) when I accidentally added a freaking 0.6 mile dog-leg by the City Bus Depot. Instead of giving myself an audible compliment, I gave myself an audible “#@$&! I think we just butchered this.” Instead of giving up, I told myself to get it together and finish the attempt (pro tip). After back-tracking to the location where I made the wrong turn, I started incorrectly making tired math calculations and believed that I ruined my attempt at an overall FKT, or at least that it would be close.

Once I got to the bouncy pedestrian bridge at Woolen Mills, I felt my legs getting tired. This is when I started realizing that my goal pace was going to start getting hard, and it did. Stepping onto the paved road, I wanted the trails back. My feat missed the natural cushion of the dirt and leaves.

I struggled to get a decent pace at Riverview Park, and was pretty quickly oscillating between low and high points. At about 6 miles to go, I realized all I had left was a few sips of Tailwind 😔. I made my first decent stretch of walking at River Rd, and the pattern continued on the harder uphills.

Once I finished wrapping around the culvert pipe on the CHS part of the route, I felt a bit of an emotional surge since I knew I was nearing the finish. A mile from the finish, I decided to check my overall time, and was psyched to see my math had been wrong, and I was freaking on pace for the overall FKT ✊! I ran at a pace at what felt like a sprint through the tunnel by the disc golf course and to the traffic light on 29 and stopped my watch, hands on the knees, and a tired smile on my face.

Meeting my parents at the finish, they snapped some photos, gave me some new clothes, placed me in a lawn chair in the sun by a tree across from Bodos, and handed me a cold coke and a soft bagel from the best bagel shop on Earth.