After last year's race ended a little differently than I'd hoped, I was eager to try again at the Bull Mountain Epic. With races becoming scarce in 2020 due to COVID-19 concerns and having had a couple (Grandfather Marathon and The Bear) get canceled on me, I was really glad to have an event that would be not only taking place, but doing so safely. Like other events that took place in the latter part of 2020, face coverings were required, aid stations were modified to be hands-free, and the race started in waves.
This year had two main differences from last year. Lee Starnes was going with me and we were taking my camper conversion (note: my project blog I linked to is way behind.) The weather promised to be nearly ideal and attendance (at least in the 50K and half-marathon) looked to be up from 2019. The 100K, with 28 registered participants, was about the same as last year.
Lee and I arrived around 5:30 and started backing in the trailer at about the same spot as I had camped the prior year. There was a couple tent camping beside us. As I backed in, the RD came out and suggested leaving the trailer hooked up to the Jeep to give more parking. I worried we'd stick out too far into the area where people would be running and we suggested that we park beside the camper and she could park someone in front of the Jeep if she needed to, since we'd be there all weekend. But, before all this discussion took place, when I first rolled down my window, she said "I know you. You were here last year weren't you? Mark, right?" There could be only one reason she'd remember me and I replied that yes, I was there last year and I was the guy with the bloody urine.
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| Home Base |
Once parked, we set up most everything for the next morning and cooked up some Beyond Burgers. I've not had these before a race, but figured they'd be fine since I've had them several times before. I didn't take a picture of it, but this year, they had six porta-jons and two hand-washing stations outside of them. Since this was just a large field, and not a campground, there was no hooking the trailer up to electrical. Lee had a small propane heater that we turned on briefly in the trailer to warm things up, but with sleeping bags, it was fine without it (though nice to have first thing in the morning.) Curious, I tried using the television with the external flat antenna but had no luck. But we really didn't need the TV as we spent a lot of time preparing everything for the next day's race. With little to do, I think we both fell asleep at about 9:30 or 10:00.
Lee had set his alarm but we didn't need it, waking up before 6:00. A few cars had started rolling in and with packet pickup at 6:30, a steady stream was about to begin. We made some oatmeal on a small water boiler that Lee had and then went to get our packets. This year, we got a trucker's cap (the same as last year's,) a lidded coffee mug with their running group's logo, and another drawstring bag, also with the logo. The shirt this year was almost the same as last year except it was long sleeved for 2020.
The race began in one minute waves of ten runners based on Ultrasignup seeding, starting with the half-marathon, then the 50K, and finally the 100K. With the first group starting at 8:00 a.m., I'd be heading out at 8:18 and Lee just two minutes later at 8:20.
The way the waves were staggered meant that faster runners in the longer races would catch up to the slower runners in the shorter races and we quickly encountered some 50K people. It was fine, though, as there was room to pass and most slid over anyway. They added more trail to this loop than was in the race last year. I couldn't figure out where the new section was until later in the race and saw that it was right near the start and it was a trail that had been flagged off last year as "coming soon." The pre-race memo said that it added distance to loop one, but since loop three used the same first few miles, I think it should have added distance to that loop as well.
It didn't take long to fall in with a group all going the same speed. At least for a time. Out of nowhere, a 100K runner who started later than my group came flying by. He was relatively young and I couldn't help but think that he was going to blow up taking off like that and that he probably hadn't done a lot of long distance races. Parts of the course were very familiar to me as we went along. I had started with a technical t-shirt and my Grindstone finisher's jacket, which is also light and has a long zipper in the front, but the sleeves don't roll up easily. So, after a couple miles, the jacket came off. After 5-6 miles, we came off the trail onto a Forest Service road. Maybe a half-mile later, I caught up to Tracy, whom I'd spoken to at the start but never expected to see again. Besides Lee, Tracy was the only person I knew at the race and I'd only met him briefly when we ran a mile or two together at South Mountains Marathon. We fell in together and followed the road to the mile 8.5 aid station. Yes, this race has an aid station on each loop, but its never near the middle, meaning there are long stretches either from the start/finish are to the aid station or from the aid station to the start/finish area. I think we both skipped the aid station, but I noticed they had a timing mat there. As backup, they were taking our numbers. The stretch back to the start/finish area was pretty runnable and it felt like we made good time. We came into the finish area together but went to our separate "home bases" to prep for the next lap. I lost track of Tracy here as I refilled my bladder and mixed in a packet of Tailwind. I ate one of the granola bars I'd brought and started out for loop two, which I knew would be tougher than one had been, both in terms of climb and terrain. Note: though we entered aid station one and finished the first loop together, Tracy shows up as being five minutes behind me both times. I don't know why this happened.
I started loop two with the guy who had parked next to us. Lee had heard him say something about hoping to win, so if he felt capable of that, I knew I wouldn't be with him very long. And, I wasn't. Within maybe the first mile or two, he pulled on ahead and I fell in with who I thought was the first place female in the 100K, according to her bib number. We didn't really talk much and I think there was another guy with us too. It wasn't until post-race did I see that she was registered for the 100K but had dropped down to the 50K pre-race. She did end up winning it, though. I looked for the old junked truck that I remembered seeing the prior year. I did so, hoping it was a landmark for me, but even had I seen it, I couldn't remember how far it was from the truck to the aid station. All I really remembered, or thought I did, was that there was a long, steady downhill into the aid station. I knew there was a shin-level creek crossing right after the aid station, so it was definitely at the bottom of a hill. The loop dragged on, but I felt ok. At times, the sun poking through the trees slowed me down some and made me wish I'd brought my sunglasses, but it was going well. At the aid station, I gave them my bib number and headed straight through the creek as the two I was with stopped to get something. The creek water was icy cold, but I'd finished the long section of the loop and just had 3-4 miles back to the start/finish area, starting with a steep climb. I think the water in that creek was wetter than normal because my socks held it in a long time. Loop two is shaped like a balloon and when you crest the climb I was on, its just a short stretch down to rejoin the out-and-back "string" portion of the loop. On that stretch, I caught up to three 50K runners who asked if the loops were long (meaning longer than 1/3 of a 50K.) I told them they were and that I thought the 50K was 33-34 miles, based on the aid station mileage chart. I wasn't sure if that made them feel better, knowing that's why their time was slower, or worse, knowing that had farther to go to finish. Anyway, we finished the loop together and I repeated my stop at "home base."
The first part of loop three is the same as loop one, then the trail splits and we take the short section to the aid station that is shared with loop one, so on this loop, the aid station comes early. About a mile or so in, I caught up to a 50K runner who had small "prayer flags" on her pack. I'd commented on them earlier and fell into her pace as we climbed up a hill. After a bit of tailgaiting, she asked if I wanted to pass. I told her that her pace was good, but if I was bothering her, I would. She was fine and we continued on. Shortly after that, on a flat section of trail, we were running and somehow she stepped on either side of a stick about the length of a trekking pole but maybe 1" in diameter and when right leg moved past her left, the stick went with it and it suddenly came helicoptering back toward me like the broken end of a baseball bat goes spinning towards the third base line. It went by about five feet to my left. She apologized but all I could think was how on earth did she do that? It was at this aid station that I passed her as she stopped to get some water or something. The stretch from the aid station to the start/finish really dragged on last year. It did again this year. I guess I was prepared a little mentally, knowing it was a long stretch, but it really feels long when you realize there are opportunities to run a decent pace on sections and it doesn't feel seem that you've helped speed things up any. There's one big creek crossing here that was deeper than the one on lap two. My path through the creek had water at the bottom of my shorts. Things had really begun to thin out as we worked towards the halfway point. There was a batch of people somewhere ahead of me and some behind, but I was mostly on my own for the time being. There's an area where you see some cars parked above you and it gets your hopes up that the trail comes out on the road just ahead, but "just ahead" is quite a ways further along. When I did make it to the road, I knew from last year's event that the next part also drags on forever. We're only on the road a few hundred yards and then its back onto the trail. This year, I checked my GPS at the beginning of the trail to see how long this section is. It starts with a steady climb, which I walked, then it flattens out for a while, with a little bit of downhill, before it crosses the road again. On this section, for the second time today, I saw a father and his young daughter biking and the daughter looked almost exactly like Darlene's daughter, Candela at the same age. It was eerie. I couldn't stare, but saw her long enough to see a strong resemblance. After crossing the road, I checked my GPS and found that section was about 1.25 miles and it took me about eighteen minutes. There is a steady downhill section to the start/finish that felt longer than I'd remembered. Still, it was runnable and soon I could hear the music and noise ahead of me.
I came in at just under six hours, or about thirty minutes ahead of last year. I don't know where I gained so much time over last year except possibly the cooler weather helping. Because my feet had stayed soaked so long, I decided to change socks and have dry ones for about a loop and a half, until the big crossing on loop 5. I think I also changed shirts (or was that loop 5?) and grabbed my trekking poles. I really had no idea what place I was in, but I figured there were maybe five people or so ahead of me. It was not a large field, so if I was correct, being fifth or sixth was not the accomplishment it might sound like. So, now I was counting down instead of up. Three loops to go. They should be familiar and just fly by, right? I did feel pretty good, though it was now the warmest part of the day.
The dry socks really felt nice, giving my feet a chance to dry out and "deprune." I found the poles gave me a little more speed, helping propel me along, on the flat and slight downhill sections. I knew they'd also take some of the pounding off my knees and I'd feel better later on. Even though they transfer some of the weight to my shoulders, I've yet to really be sore in that area after using them, no matter how long or how many miles.
At "home base," I was getting my stuff together to head back out for lap five. I asked the lady parked next to me what time the sun set. It was about 5:00 p.m. and I needed to decide whether to take my headlamp. She thought it was about 7:00 p.m. so that only gave me around two hours, less time than it took me the first time around loop two. I told her I'd better take it, grabbed all my stuff, and headed out. I wasn't too far into the loop when I realized that while I said I was taking my headlamp, I did not actually grab it. I'm not sure why I chose to plow forward instead of going back to get it. Any time wasted going back surely would be less than time spent trying to navigate by my cell phone light later. But, I continued on, telling myself that I'd just have to do this lap at the same pace as I had earlier. I felt like the walking part, I could manage the same pace, especially with my trekking poles. There was just no way to be sure. At times the sun seemed to be setting quickly, then I'd round a corner or crest a hill and it would be higher in the sky than I thought. I tried to focus on moving quickly but if my mind wandered, my pace slowed. Very little looked familiar here so I really didn't know how near or far the aid station might be. I did managed to spot the old truck this time, but that didn't help me orient. Every downhill felt like maybe it was the one leading to the aid station. I felt like somewhere through here I had my headlamp on last year because I remembered hearing an owl, but I could have been mistaken. My race time was less important now than time of day. Every minute it took me to get to the aid station was a minute closer to darkness. When the aid station finally did come into view, there was oddly no one there. I looked around, thinking maybe they went to the creek or up the way a little bit, but all was quiet. I hated to not be checked in, but I didn't want to go looking for them. I assumed everything was ok and pushed on. My once dry socks, now soaked with the shin-deep creek crossing. The climb on the opposite side of the creek seemed longer this time through, but not to the point of being spirit-breaking. When I crested it, I knew there were maybe a couple miles to the start/finish area, mostly runnable (using caution,) and I still had some waning daylight remaining. I passed a couple from the 50K who were just completing their second loop. I didn't see any 100K people the entire loop.
When I came into the start/finish area, a member of Tracy's crew asked if I'd seen him and his pacer. I told them I hadn't and didn't even realize he'd gone back out, but was glad to learn that he did. The guy said he'd left about five or ten minutes after I did. I headed on and crossed the mat, I grabbed my headlamp from "home base" and set it on the table as I put some water in my bladder. I drank a greek yogurt smoothie, just as I had done after lap three, since something similar had worked well in 2019. I told the lady beside us that despite saying I was taking my headlamp on the last loop, I had failed to and was lucky to have made it back with (barely) enough light to see. I grabbed the extra battery, just in case, my poles, and took off for my final loop. About fifty feet away, I realized that I'd gone off without my headlamp again...
I did lap five about forty minutes slower than lap two, roughly the same slowdown as in the prior year. Though I knew this lap would drag on, it had the added bonus of being the last one and so there was always that feeling of satisfaction in the back of my mind, even during the long stretches. There were some stars out in the two short clearings that come fairly early in this loop. I saw Lee coming toward me, finishing up his fourth loop, and we spoke briefly. He seemed to be doing well, though he said it was taking longer than he'd planned. I could totally understand that. I headed on along the increasingly familiar route. At the aid station, I thanked them for volunteering and continued on for the long homestretch into the finish. It really was a long section. For a while, after the aid station, it went well, but then it really began to drag on. Even had it been daylight, there would be few landmarks along this section. I just had to try not to dwell on how slowly the miles (yards) were ticking off and focus on keeping moving at the best pace I could manage. The ice cold, and still shorts-deep, creek crossing definitely got my attention and gave me something other than the miles to complain about. There were several moments of false hope as I'd think I saw the road ahead. Eventually, what looked like the road actually was, and I knew I had less than two miles to go. A long two miles, but certainly something I could wrap my head around. I didn't check my GPS this time, but I have to believe my pace was slower through here. Maybe the climb wasn't slower, but the flat part did not have nearly as much running as during my first time around this loop. Several times, I thought I heard someone behind me, but would look back and find nothing but darkness. When I crossed the road and started down the hill, I felt a wave of relief that it was about to be over. I'd had a moving time goal that started at 13 hours early in the race, then moved to 13:30 somewhere around loop four, but after that, it was just to do better than last year. When I crossed the finish line, the clock was reading the time of day in military time, so I didn't immediately know my time. When I checked my watch later, it was 13:49:36, versus 14:54:24 last year. So, a little more than an hour faster and roughly 30 minutes faster on each of the two halves. When I consider that I walked the entire last loop last year, the second 50K taking thirty minutes less this year isn't a huge improvement. My second running of loop three was 2:40 versus 2:03 for the first loop. I think lap six took about three hours last year, so I'd actually only cut that by twenty minutes with whatever running I was able to do on it this year.
But there were too many positives about the race to dwell on why I didn't improve more than I had. As I stood just beyond the finish line, trying to shake off the aches and pains, the RD came up and told me I'd finished third overall. I was genuinely surprised. I assumed, even after Tracy took a break, that there were at least four people ahead of me. It appeared to have been a battle of attrition. As you'll see in the results, nine of the twenty-four starters dropped (and this was a really good weather day.) The guy who was pressing so hard early in the first loop ended up in the sixteen hour range. Most importantly, I'd gotten four UTMB qualifier points in a year where races, much less points, were scarce. Oh, and this was my 100th marathon/ultra finish (not including "fun runs") so it had been a good day.
Back at home base, I tried to clean up the mess I'd left around our tables and then went to the back of the camper/trailer to try out my shower wand. Well, the wand worked great, but the water was frigid and it quickly cooled me down. I could barely put it on my head and wasn't about to let hit hit my back. I had to use Dawn for soap since we didn't have anything else, but it worked fine. I had a tarp on the ground so we wouldn't have mud later on and I did find that the shower wand was great for washing the mud off my shoes.
I finished changing in the camper and climbed up on the bunk to lay down for a bit, leaving the lights on so Lee would know I was there. It didn't take long before I was pulling the sleeping bag over me to warm my core. The shower, however brief, had cooled me down a lot. I actually fell asleep and was awakened by Lee when he'd completed his fifth lap. I apologized for being no help. He just told me to turn out the light and he'd be back in a while. It was a little hard to get back to sleep with the music at the finish area, but I tried. I did get up quickly to remove my contacts and eventually did fall back asleep. Lee and I spoke briefly when he finished. He fell asleep almost the minute he hit his bed.
Both Lee and I enjoyed this event. It's a shame the 100K hasn't attracted more participants but maybe that will come with time. The UTMB points are a definite draw for anyone with an interest in that event, but the forest is nice, the trails are manageable, and the people there are great. Unless something comes up, I think we both expect to be at Bull Mountain again in 2021.
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