The 2017 Georgia Death Race actually began at the end of the 2016 GDR. Kelli (my wife) and I had signed up for the 2016 GDR, trained hard (or so we thought), ran a 46 and a 50 miler in preparation and went in feeling pretty good. I finished the 2016 race, but only after feeling like I was dying and after puking since mile 23 or so of last year’s race. I couldn’t keep anything down but a bit of ginger ale and honestly didn’t have a lot of fun. I do remember distinctly at about mile 45 – I felt like I was crashing hard and stuck in my headphones/music. I’ll never forget the song that popped on was “not my time” by 3 doors down. Gave me some motivation at least until Jake Bull (mile 54). From there, it was a death march, but made it in. I don’t even remember this, but Kelli told me I said “Fuck You” to Sean (race director, aka Run Bum) and looked like death. On the 3 minute drive to the hotel, I had her pull over so I could puke again – awesome. Kelli was running injured last year and dropped out – so basically, we got our asses handed to us at the 2016 race. I could hardly walk for about a week and my feet felt like hamburger for something like 3 months afterwards. When we were on the long ride home, both Kelli and I both decided F-this. There would be no 2017 Georgia Death Race. I remember thinking I sort of got lucky getting through that day/night and couldn’t imagine doing it again. I just wasn’t really cut out for that kind of stuff.
All smiles before the 2016 GDR. We had no idea what we had gotten ourselves into.
Trail and Ultra Runners will understand the humor with blue Gatorade. It was not nearly as funny when it was monstrously projectile-vomited at mile 23. I will say each successive hurl yielded a little darker blue.
Most people can relate to this feeling and the obvious conclusion is we sign up for another race. My kick in the pants came when talking to a buddy from Indiana, Tim Miller, who for whatever reason said he might be interested in the 2017 GDR as a WS Qualifier. So, naturally I said I’m in. Kelli had sworn off the GDR too, but after a short while decided she was in too! Fast forward to sign up day – Kelli and I camped out in front of computers and furiously tried to get in before the race sold out (something like an hour or less this year) – Ultrasignup crashed this year, but Tim, Kelli and myself all managed to get it. Additionally, Tim Weber from Indiana got to sign up and would be joining us on for the race.
2016 was a different year for Kelli and I. We both stepped WAY outside of our comfort zones and I in particular started to love trail running more and more. We had big eyes and thought GDR would be a great training run for another race we had signed up for, the Bighorn 100 mountain race in Wyoming. To suggest that GDR is a “training run” in hindsight was absurd and I was guilty of completely underestimating how hard it would be. I still consider myself a baby at ultra running and I was just completely naïve. But, after making it (barely) through the 2016 GDR I thought surely I would only be better for Bighorn.
Wrong. I was a DNF (did not finish) at Bighorn and puking and the inability to keep anything down plagued me again. I did manage to squeak out a 100 miler at Merrill’s Mile (on a flat one-mile paved loop in July near Dahlonega, GA) and worked towards my first “real” 100 miler at the YETI 100 in Virginia (awesome experience by the way). Unfortunately for me, I puked and suffered from dehydration at Merrill’s Mile and didn’t puke, but had to stop eating or drinking for about the last 25 miles of the YETI. All of this I’m still searching for answers for – plus my recovery time after these races takes me a long time, as my legs swell like balloons and I stay sore for a week or more afterwards. If only I had the legs and stomach of Kelli, as she rarely gets sore and never gets sick!!!
Anyway, fast forward to the 2017 GDR. This year, Kelli and I focused our training not so much on miles, but more on climbing. We incorporated walking lunges (ouch), stair climbers and a lot of elevated treadmill miles into weekly runs. Following recovery from the YETI 100 and as part of our training, we ran Sky to Summit (50K), Pine Mountain 46, Lookout Mountain 50, Canyon Crash 50K, and the Yeti 7/11 run (44 miles). I also thought the H9 50 miler earlier in the year that is run on part of the GDR course would be great training, but led to: you guessed it, stomach problems! There I had another DNF, which I hate, but I dropped partly because the YETI was coming up and I was scared to death of it and wanted to give myself the best chance of finishing (but also because it was kicking my ass badly). I really wish I was motivated to do massive mileage like it seems like everyone else does, but the combination of my body and my willpower allow me to only go so far.
We sort of unofficially considered ourselves to begin training the beginning of October. Life, kids, work, lack of motivation, little injuries, etc. all take bites out of training and left me feeling like I had not done enough for the race. But, too late now and the time had come to put up or shut up.
We hopped in the car on Friday morning – the plan was to get to the airport relatively early to pick our friend Tim up from the airport. We managed to make good time and get around Atlanta without any major issues (a small miracle after Atlanta traffic was completely messed up after a bridge collapsed through one of the city’s main arteries. We made it to Dawsonville, saw Bill Elliot’s car displayed, ate a pizza (except for Tim who was good and ate a salad) and made it to the hotel at Amicalola Falls State Park. Before the hotel, we drove past the finish line and eyeballed the 600 step nasty climb to the top of the falls that I knew would be murder on tired legs. I wanted the vision of those damned steps in my head because I was going to do everything in my power to make it there the next day/night! At the hotel was packet pickup and the mandatory gear check-in. It happens to me at every race (EVERY race) where I look around and think two thoughts. One is “have I done enough” and two “I have no business being here”. Everyone looks like super athletes that are full of confidence and are in phenomenal shape and I am a fat blob that shouldn’t be here. Why, I don’t know, but it always happens. I tell this to Tim Weber and he told me that I am a fat blob and have no business being here. No – he tells me it happens to him too. Made me feel a lot better, as he has done such beasts as Wasatch and Bighorn and has a lot of experience. After picking up our race bibs, the butterflies are fluttering badly in my stomach – I’m halfway between excited and scared to death. I think of one of my favorite quotes:
“The real question is not whether life exists after death. The real question is whether you are alive before death”
I’m going to carry that with me.
I will say it was a lot of fun to see people that you sort of feel like you know in our weird but sort of small running world. We met Ryan Ploeckelman who is a stud runner and host the East Coast Trail and Ultra Podcast along with Sean and Andy Jones-Wilkins, who is basically accomplished everything there is to accomplish in ultra running and has forgotten more about this sport than I will ever know. Very cool people and I appreciate the handshakes. Ryan will be running an aid station and AJW will be running. We see a few more friendly faces (Sean Blanton, Brad Goodridge, Ann Blanton, Jennifer Raby and Sean Lawford), but it is atypical of our usual race where we see many more people we know. We meet Tim Miller, who has driven with some friends from Indiana and is a crazy-good runner/marathoner/triathlete/ultrarunner. And tough as heck – I mean, this is a guy who finished the Thunder Rock 100 miler after a fall, only to later realize he had run over half of the race on a BROKEN LEG! He has been battling some injuries, but is toeing the line anyway. Again, everyone around us seems like superhuman athletes. And then, there is me. At the pre-race meeting Friday night, Sean and Susan (co RD) go over course details. I make small talk with a runner next to me, Pam Smith. I never know what to say, so I ask where she is from – Oregon she says. Cool, have you ever ran this before? No she says – but she was looking forward to it. I think I ask her something like have you done many trail runs before or run in Oregon much. She was very polite and kind and told me of a few runs, including Pine to Palm. It was only later I found out I was talking to Pam Smith, winner of a bunch of races including Western States, Desert Solstice, Angeles Crest, etc., etc. I’m such an idiot. And, she finished something like 4 hours and 20 minutes ahead of me. But that is also one of the cool things about this sport – you can be sitting next to one of the greatest runners on the planet and not know it because they are just, well, normal.
We have to meet our shuttle bus to catch a ride to the starting line (at Vogel State Park) at 2:00 AM. So basically, I’m nervous about missing the shuttle and have a very restless night of “sleep”. We wake up at about 1:30 and get ready. I basically take a bath in 2-Toms because I do not want to get chaffed. I think I’m still a little emotionally scarred about what happened to Kelli at the Yeti 100 (those that know Kelli will know what I speak of). I’m so paranoid now that I run with a roll on bottle of the stuff in my pocket and carry wipes in my pack or handheld water bottle!
We catch the shuttle and begin the sleepy but nervous ride to the starting line. It takes about an hour and a half or so, but halfway through the bus driver asks us, “does anyone here know how to get to Vogel State Park?”. Her phone had died with directions and she was freaking out a little. Nobody knew directions, but someone reassured her she had plenty of time. No big deal and it worked out just fine, but we shared a laugh on how a bus full of triathletes or marathoners would have not taken that well before a race! Another reason why trail runners are just awesome. We do get to the park in plenty of time. We have to check in again the morning of and receive our rusty railroad spike that we have to carry with us the entirety of the race. Something about remembering and carrying our burdens with us for the next however many hours. I’m nervous for myself, but also nervous for Kelli. I know how hard she has worked to get to the starting line and I desperately want her to finish this thing! The nerves mount until Sean lines us up for a start. Kelli and I say our traditional pre-race prayer, Tim joins me and we are off.
Tim Weber, Kelli and I feeling great the evening before the run. Me on the bus on the way to the start. It’s 3AM and I’m wondering what the hell was I thinking to do this race again?
The first few miles click off effortlessly and before we know it, we get to about mile 3.5, which marks the beginning of a 4 mile climb of about 2,200 feet. Along the way we are passed by Alicia Rich, who has got off course and wants to make up time. She looks so strong going up the hill, but we later found out she had some stomach issues and chose to live to fight another day. We take a pretty easy effort to get up the hill. If I’ve learned anything it is that just because you can run (or push a pace) doesn’t necessarily mean you SHOULD push the pace. I feel like the pace is insanely easy at this point and have to fight the urge to take off running faster. We are now on the “dragon spine”, which is a series of climbs and falls without any real switchbacks. I remember from last year these can really destroy your legs if you aren’t careful. Put it in my terms, my legs will be destroyed afterwards anyway, but I should be smart and not go too far over the cliff this early in the race. That means easy, easy, easy.
Examples of some pics taken during the race – the hills are steep and very few people can (or should) run them – they will wreck you quickly if not careful. First picture is of me suffering during 2016!
The first few aid stations (White Oak Stomp and Fish Gap) clicked off quickly, with me actually eating some food and making sure I stayed hydrated. I remember by mile 15 last year I was already feeling sick and wiped out, so it was a great feeling to want to eat real food and comfortably drink at this point. At about mile 19.5 we begin a steep descent into the (mile 21) Skeenah Gap aid station. This was notable because I could feel I was in trouble at this point in 2016 and because I knew some friends of mine were running this aid station. I made it down the hill with no problem and it was fun to see all of the fast runners powering up the hill. I had to fight the feeling that I was somewhere near last place and might miss cutoffs? I basically refused to look at my running watch this year at all, except to check periodically what mile I was at. Trying to keep a certain pace has gotten me in trouble in the past and this time I wanted to totally ignore time. Therefore, I had no idea about cutoffs and just wanted to run free. This aid station was awesome to me – saw Josh Fix and Hunter Odom there and was greeted with big smiles. This was a big boost and they greeted me with a surprise (there is a story there, but Josh brought this gem for me).
My “special” honey bucket waiting for me at Skeenah Gap. Thanks Josh and Hunter! Kelli was obviously feeling great!
Well played, sir – and I’ve no idea what that god awful look is on my face! It was definitely encouraging to me that I still had an appetite at this point, so I actually ate a cheese and bacon sandwich and grabbed a honeybun for my pocket. I laughed that the calories in that thing would be enough for two hours of running! At this point I had drank all of my tailwind and was alternating gatorade and water. I set off back up the 1.5 mile climb to the top – it was great to see David Milner at the top directing us – another guy that always has a smile on his face and a word of encouragement. This was a significant point in the race for me because a)the climb didn’t seem too bad and went by fairly quickly and b)I didn’t throw up after it like I did last year! My legs were certainly tired, but I knew from experience if I can get in and out of the next aid station (mile 28 – Point Bravo). My first watch died at mile 25 and I was pretty sure that I had made it farther last year than this. Oh well, I was still moving OK and a finish was the only real goal here (after I looked back, I was 9 minutes slower in 2017 than 2016 by mile 25).
Cool bridge across the Toccoa River – you are running seemingly through the middle of nowhere and all of a sudden pop out on this bridge. Very cool! If you can make it here, you will finish! Photo credit to Rob Richard.
I made it to Point Bravo without a hitch – I was now running alone and the miles were very slowly ticking by. I ate a little bit of food here and used a trick Sean shared with us on the East Coast Trail and Ultra Podcast – I carried from the start a couple of little baggies and used them to throw food in. I usually grabbed some combination of a banana piece or two, a cookie or two and maybe a piece of bacon if available. Other than that, not much eating, but I was also drinking Gatorade and still nibbling on that Honey Bun! I still wasn’t sick and that was a great feeling – slow and steady she goes. There is a fairly nasty climb (or so it felt) leaving Point Bravo – about 700 feet in about a mile and a half. I knew I was slowing down, but it was refreshing again to not feel sick. I will say this – I normally don’t pick up trash along a race – a run yes, but usually I’m focused on a race and don’t stop. This time I found myself picking up trash along the way. Little stuff like gu tops or gel bottoms. I carried a baggie for this purpose and realized somewhere along the way that I really love this trail and this course. It was sort of a baptism for me last year and maybe a little bit of my heart is on that trail, I don’t know. In any case, I love it, but I hate it. That’s the GDR.
The next aid station was only about 5 miles from Point Bravo – a refreshing break from the longer distances between aid stations. Again, pretty uneventful in and out with some food in my baggie. I noticed I wasn’t eating as much as I probably should be and sort of put myself on a schedule to eat small bites of stuff at least every 30 minutes even though by now I didn’t want it. Ditto on drinking. Not sick, but just having to force myself to eat and drink. Patient, heal thyself. Leaving the next aid station (Sapling Gap, about mile 33) is another long uphill. This is where “it” happened to me this year. Bam – low on energy, feet hurting and began to feel sorry for myself. Kept having to give myself pep talks and remind myself this is supposed to be fun! As I finally get to the top of the long climb (maybe 1,200 ft), it “flattens” out. I’m sure on fresh legs this stretch would be very runnable but at this point I was pretty much reduced to a walk on anything that resembled even a slight incline for a while. For about the next 6 miles, the trail is not super technical and has short inclines, declines and some rollers. If I had legs, this was the time to make hay. As it turns out, this was the time to just move. Legs tired and I could run if I had to, but there were a lot of miles left and even as I began to feel better, the legs were pretty much jello. The next aid station was at mile 41ish (long creek) and the trail took a short decline and a small incline of about 500 feet (which felt like a lot more at this point) into Winding Stair (mile 47ish). Winding Stair was unique in that it was a crew access point – lots of cheering and it was really cool to see people there. There was a chance that a friend of ours and bad ass marathoner Michele Keane was going to meet us there, but I knew the logistics would be tricky to get to the middle of nowhere to see us for a few seconds. I would have been happy to see her, but I have to admit I was relieved not to see her (I would of almost felt guilty for her taking so much time – as it turns out she actually did try to make it there, but it is probably really hard to navigate on mountain “roads” with no cell service. The really nice thing about Winding Stair is it marks the beginning of about a 5 mile downhill stretch. I was moving slow, but it felt good to pound on a different set of muscles. To show how wrecked I felt (and I’m assuming most people did, my fastest split of the race was on this hill. A whopping 9:20 mile. Down a roughly 10% gradient. Not exactly smoking, but moving better than other miles. Plus, it felt good to take a short mental break for staring at the ground to avoid tripping over roots. I’m a HORRIBLE runner on technical trails in the first place. The GDR is not terribly technical (until the end when Sean tries to kill us), but a gravel road is a nice break. As I approach the next aid station, I see Jennifer Raby (bad ass runner from Atlanta) and know I’m getting close to Point Bravo. As we get closer, we can hear and then see the people. I hear Ryan Ploeckelman’s voice screaming WELCOME TO JAKE BULL – WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU! How cool was that. The whole crew there was awesome. We had drop bags there, but by then, my stomach was shot. I actually managed to choke down a small bit of Ramen noodles, refill on water and was out. I knew from here it was a long and lonely road ahead.
Jake Bull represents the beginning of about a 10 mile climb of about 1500 feet with varying grades. Sean warned us it was a long stretch until the next aid station. GPS watches are horribly inaccurate in the mountains, but it turned out to be somewhere in the neighborhood of 12 miles. Up and up and up and up. Mostly all on a jeep road so footing wasn’t so much of an issue, but each time you see a bend in the road you think you are near the top and then realize you are not even close. I thought the aid station would be in about 10 miles – by now I was spending briefs periods of time with Peter Burrell and Randy Troyer. They had made the trip from Michigan and Indiana respectively and were run-walking – admirable to me because I had no uphill running legs. Fortunately, I can walk at a decent clip and I would catch them, they would run, I would catch them, they would run etc. I think they might have been trying to scrape me, but all I wanted to do was finish this damned race! Only kidding, they were really cool guys and finished the thing strong!! We saw people ahead of us via headlights (by now it was very dark - it was somewhere around 9:00-9:30). Yes, the LAST aid station and then the home stretch. Wrong. When we reached them, they announced the aid station was about 1.5 miles ahead! Normally, 1.5 miles is nothing, but now it seemed like an eternity! No matter, head down and keep grinding. By now, and for this entire stretch, I was on the verge of barfing. I was very aware I SHOULD be downing calories, but about the best I could do was alternate very small sips of a mixture of half water and half ginger ale – a trick I’ve learned with my non-cooperative stomach. I was aware I was not drinking enough but gambled that I wasn’t moving as fast now, it was cooling down and if I just sipped a little every once in a while I could make it to the end. Any more than what I was doing and I was sure I’d puke. Maybe puking would have been the best thing at that point, but I really just wanted to focus on moving forward. Everything hurt at this point, but I’m pretty sure many people felt the same way by now.
Finally, we reached the last aid station, Nimblewill Gap. Hallelujah! As was last year, you come out on the top of a mountain and the wind is blowing and cold. I had probably drank about 20 ounces of water/ginger ale over the last 3 hours – almost all of it forced down. I refilled my mixture and forced myself to down a small cup of ramen/broth cooled down with cooler water. The noodles almost revolted, but I managed to keep them down by slowing it down for a few minutes. I got cold quickly and threw on my thermal top. I did the same thing last year and the same thing happened (well actually I puked just after the aid station last year and not this year, so that’s a good thing) – I got cold, put my top on, started moving down a trail that was semi protected from the wind and got hot again. I’m sure I looked goofy, but I hiked my thermal up to my shoulders to not get hot (not a good thing with a turned stomach). Probably my least favorite part of the race is the loose boulder section coming down towards Amicalola Park. With about three miles to go, you pass close to Amicalola Park Lodge and go down close to the finish line. By now, I couldn’t hardly drink at all and eating was out of the question. My legs were shaky and technical stuff (did I mention I really suck at technical trails?) made it slowww going.
The loose rock section heading towards the finish. There is about 3 miles to go at this point and you are on the side of a steep hill. Slow going for me and definitely NOT the place you want to fall.
When you reach about two miles to go (mile 72-73ish), you pass RIGHT by the finish line (maybe 200 feet). From there, you take a sharp right turn and head towards the steps. One last bit of work – I dump the remaining water I had (I would just barf if I drank it anyway) and turned towards the steps. A long (well, long on tired legs anyway) paved section leads you to the steps, where you climb about 750 feet in a little less than a mile. I think most people are moving pretty slowly at this point and I was no exception. I knew there were about 600 steps and I started counting them down. A cruel sight is a nice comfortable bench at about every other landing on the way up. By now, my legs, back and neck were SO tired and wanted to sit down so badly. The only way this would end is by keeping moving. FINALLY, I reach the top (I’m alone again after ticking off some miles and great conversation with Peter and Randy). At the top, we turn left and begin a downhill stretch along a paved road. This felt heavenly and I caught up with Peter and Randy at the trailhead going back down (about 1 mile to the finish). They moved much more quickly than I did and my sole intent at this point was to not break my face open on the trail to the finish. After what seemed like a long stretch, we hit a steep descent – I could finally see the light at the bottom and before I knew it I had crossed the river and was finished. Something like 19:37, but at that point I was just happy to be done. I didn’t tell Sean FU this year, but I think I managed a little smile and a thank you to him and the entire crew that busted their butts for us. It felt wonderful to strip my backpack off, but I about tipped over backwards – Sean sort of caught me but that would have pretty much summed up the day. I dropped my old spike in the coffin and Sean handed me the new engraved spike. GDR 2017 was finished. I was something like 7 minutes slower than last year but the course was maybe two miles longer – so the net was I was a little faster, but it really doesn’t matter. This isn’t the kind of race Kelli or I had a real time goal for – the goal was to be standing where I was now.
Now my thoughts turned towards Kelli – I wanted to see her finish so badly! I wobbled to the car, changed out of the nasty clothes, grabbed a diet mountain dew I had waiting, sat in the car and turned on the heat. I kept the window down for a bit in case I threw up, but luckily this year I didn’t throw up even once the whole day! My legs throbbed for a good hour, but as I sipped the soda I began to feel better. I figured Kelli would be done in about an hour or so and was about to make my way back to the finish line when I get a text from Kelli that she was about to finish!!! I was pumped to hear that because we had no contact with one another since about mile 20 or so. I waited for her and finally saw her blinky light coming down the hill. Her finish went something like this:
She started cheering, happy to be finished. She stepped into the creek to the finish line, stumbled, grabbed a limb which promptly broke, and then fell in the creek! She wobbled up, stumbled to the finish line and was all smiles! She pulled out her spike, made a little curtsey to Sean and went to throw the spike into the coffin. She MISSED the coffin, but did manage to spike Sean in the foot. Luckily, it was a glancing blow, so she still got a big hug from Sean and her finisher spike. She busted her butt for a year to get this finish so I was stoked. We got a text from Tim shortly after and got to see him finish.
Kelli’s wipeout, the look on Sean’s face after Kelli nearly impaled his foot and the happy to be done hug from Sean! Tim came in from Indiana and walked away with a great race experience.
Our day-after (or more like hours-after) finishing picture. Thanks Tim for sharing this adventure with us and thanks Kelli for being an inspiration to me!!!
In the days since, I can notice that my recovery time is MUCH better than last year. Maybe this trail running thing is starting to take hold and I can improve a little in at least how I feel. My biggest hurdle going forward is working out the stomach/nutrition issues.
I would like to say a special thanks to Run Bum, Susan Brock and all of the people that helped us on the course. The marking was great – a monumental task for a course that long and the whole vibe of the thing was great. I really love those trails and that course!
More random trail pictures of the beautiful course!
Our before and after breakfast picture Sunday morning. We at SO much food!
And that’s a wrap!
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