Morla- The Aged One

"When it comes to animal symbolism, the turtle is a great example of persistence, determination, endurance and more. By its very design, the turtle is a survivor. It has the ability to protect itself against harsh predators. The turtle is a great guide to call upon when we need to shield ourselves from oncoming attack." Also, there is no better representation of  the "sure and steady" message than that which this creature brings to our lives.

The turtle is also a powerful totem for protection, as withdrawing into its shell is an amazing self-defense mechanism. It has shown up as an ancient, mystical symbol of the collective wisdom and "balance" of the universe, in pop culture ranging from the 1980's cult classic, The Neverending Story ( Morla- the Aged One), to the Stephen King thriller (and my most favorite book of all time), IT.

The turtle stands as a perfect representation of my race at the Big Turtle 50 Miler this past weekend.

Last year I decided to take some time off of ultra running after a stretch of four ultras that each left me contemplating what the fuck I was doing out there. I figured out two things during the 2016 edition of one of my favorite trail races, 024. First, I had accomplished all the goals I had set for myself when I began my amazing journey into ultras, six year earlier. I had completed a 100 mile race- three of them, actually. I had completed 100 miles in under 24 hours. I had ran a PR of 108 miles in 24 hours. I felt extremely proud of these goals set and reached, and I honestly didn't know what, if any, new running related challenges I wanted to set for myself.

Secondly, I just wasn't having fun. Don't get me wrong, I still loved trail running very much; but being out there for hours and hours, away from my kids for most of a day...well...it, in a word, sucked.

After hitting the 50k mark at O24, this understanding came to me like an epiphany. The truth is, on some level I had known this was the reality for quite some time, I just couldn't admit it to myself. Being an ultra runner has been such a huge part of what makes me ME, for so damned long, that I was terrified to think about the possibility of leaving it behind, if only briefly. I vividly remember sitting down in our green camp chair, choking back tears as I tried to explain all this to my always patient and understanding wife. "Who am I without ultrarunning? It has brought out all of the best parts of me. It makes me stronger in everything I do. What makes me special if I'm not the guy who runs 100 miles? What's my "thing". What message am I sending to our kids if I walk away from this dream I've chased for so long?" Ang listened and comforted me. Then she helped me pack up our mountain of supplies, tents, and various what-nots, which we had setup only hours earlier, and we headed over to the local YMCA with our kiddos for an amazing day of splashing around the pool together.

I took a week off of all workouts. As the weeks and then months passed, I began to gain some perspective. I was still running, lifting, swimming, and I had begun devoting more time to learning to break-dance. What a blast! I realized that my body had needed a break, more than I could have guessed. I felt my energy levels rising steadily, and my memory and concentration improved as I was finally getting seven or more hours of sleep regularly. My weekend long runs were scaled way back. Instead of 20-25 miles on a Saturday morning, I was taking on 10-12, and skipping a weekend here and there. I made rest a high priority. I re-vamped my training plan to minimize miles and maximize rest and recovery. It quickly became clear that I had made the right decision.

Then, back in or around January of this year, I started to get that familiar urge to tackle 100 miles again. Though I was feeling that awesome excitement that comes with an enormously challenging goal, I worried that I'd get out there, 50 miles deep in a 100 miler, and find all those old anxieties and uncertainties waiting for me. In particular, when I get deep into the pain cave, with my head in it's darkest race place, I start to doubt if it's "OK" to be running for an entire Saturday that I could be with my kids. So I talked to each of my babies. I explained how I was feeling and ask their opinions. They both told me how stupid I am :) They let me know that they want me to have my own dreams, and to get out there and chase them. Not only do they not mind the small amount of time that running takes, they encourage and support my decision to continue challenging myself through ultras. Yes, my kids rule.

So began my journey back into ultras this year. I signed up for a Fall 100 that I've had my eye on for a while. Though I love running in the heat and humidity, my body tends to rebel in those conditions, so a late fall 100 seems like the right choice. Having scheduled my 100 miler, I began to search for a Spring 50 miler, more to test the waters than as physical training. Eventually I landed on the Big Turtle 50 Miler.

The 2017 Big Turtle was a first year event put on by an established group called Next Opportunity Events. It was located a relatively short 2 1/2 hours from home, in the gorgeous college town of Morehead, KY.

Our trip to the Turtle started the day before the race. I took a half day off work to finish packing and load up the car, before heading out around 1PM. It was wonderful to get a few extra hours with my babies! We played some UNO, read books, and watched Blended on the short ride to Olive Hill, KY.

The Quality Inn we chose for our weekend home-base, was under construction. Big time. As we pulled in, I spotted a lower level room close to the lobby, that had been stuffed to the ceiling with mattresses. The curtain, which could have easily concealed this strangeness, was hanging wide-open. Ooooookaaaaaaaay. Upon entering the joint, we quickly recognized the signs of construction, er, uhm, destruction? There was scaffolding in the halls, loud clanking and banging from all directions, and a virtual gauntlet of tools, tarps, and construction crewmen lining the narrow passage. In fact, a large pile of tools blocked our very own doorway. Let me tell y'all, this wasn't in the brochure.

We performed our traditional strip-the-beds-search-for-bedbugs, before quickly unpacking and getting comfy.


Suddenly there came a rapping, as of someone (not so)gently tapping, tapping (banging) on our chamber... wall. Quoth the Carroll's, "da fuck?" The clanging moved up into the ductwork in the room behind ours. I'm pretty sure we had the only room on the ground level that wasn't gutted, or in the process of being so.

I checked the time, and we opted to head over to the race start- about 30 minutes away- to pick up my packet and scout out the start/finish area. Super glad we did this, since we arrived at the start with a whopping five minutes to spare on race morning! If we hadn't gotten a handle on where to park and had my bib picked up, I would have been one of those unlucky bastards starting fifteen minutes after the official ready, set, go. Plus, the shirt for Big Turtle was completely badass and is now my most favoriteset race shirt ever, so picking it up early meant I got to post lots of selfies pre-race. As we all know, if you don't post selfies, the run never happened.

There was a pre-race meal, which my family was invited to partake in by the race management; however, my kiddos are quite picky eaters, so we just grabbed some delicious breadsticks and I swiped a scoop of spaghetti as well.

I actually was in the mood for some traditional pre-race carb loading in the form of pasta. A quick Google search of pasta restaurants in the area yielded poultry results, landing us at the Pizza Hut right outside our hotel door. I had a big bowl of spaghetti, while Ang, Xan, and Izabella enjoyed a pan pizza. Perfect. Service and food were excellent. I particularly enjoyed the beautiful accents :)


We headed back to the hotel with full bellies and anxious energy. The kids and I hit the pool for a round of water wrestling, which involves the two of them flinging themselves on top of me and trying to drag me under, while Izabella pretends she isn't really trying to dunk me whennever I'm about to dunk her back. Though I'll never admit it to him, my son is almost big enough and strong enough to dunk me pretty easily these days. I have to use the old, "I just went under to get you too," routine, more and more often.

I finished getting my gear ready while the kids showered. After a spritz myself, we all settled in to watch an episode of our current Netflix binge, Switched at Birth. (There's a good possibility I'm in love with Vanesso Marano, fyi.)

It's a true testament to how pooped we all were, when our episode froze up due to the crappy free Wi-Fi connection, and it was Xander who suggested, "Let's just turn it off. I'm tired and I want to read a little bit (of To Kill a Mockingbird) before I go to sleep. Everyone agreed.

No sooner than the lights went out, there came a rapping...again. This time it was in the form of the dueshbag in the room on the other side of us, screaming to some other person, who couldn't be heard at all, btw. When I say screaming, what I mean is this dude was having a conversation with another person, but it was the loudest possible volume a human voice can reach without actually being considered "screaming". Normally I'm so tired at the end of each day, nothing keeps me awake. A fucking dump-truck filled with dynamite could crash through the wall and not disturb me. However, I was at the tale end of my taper, sitting on a full week of solid sleep, and two days of absolutely no exercise. I was wound up like a damn trampoline spring. My fam had an equally hard time getting to sleep. Always a nice predicament when you have to rise and shine at 5AM for a 50 Mile race.

Just as the warm arms of sleep had wrapped themselves around me, I was abruptly awoken by a high-pitched, beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep! Ahhhhck! I was sharing a bed with Xan. Izzy and Ang were in the other. Noone seemed fazed by this development but me. Orienting myself as quickly as possible in the pitch black, unfamiliar surroundings, I finally tracked the source of the beeping...to my son's watch. Blindly jabbing the several hundred buttons accomplished nothing. Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep! Xander stirred enough to yank his wrist from my grasp. "Dude," I called through the darkness. Your alarm is going off! Make it stop!"

An unintelligible sound escaped his lips as he rolled over away from me.

"Duuuuuude!"

This went on for some minutes.

Finally...silence. Beautiful, luxurious silence....fuck. Now I had to piss.

After waking four more times to drain the main vein, and feeling as if I'd not slept a wink, my own alarm went off.

While I always experience some amount of nerves before a race- whether it be a local 5k, or a tough-as-hell 100 miler- Big Turtle race morning was over-the-top. My stomach was so knotted up that I couldn't eat much, yet the morning pre-race dumper wasn't working. On top of this, we had woke to storm-blackened skies and heavy rain. The forecast had called for a dry, hot day. Blah. While I enjoy running in the rain sometimes, and while, as an ultrarunner, I am prepared for and embrace all types of challenges, I was really looking to work at a PR, and had no desire to slog through 50 miles of shoe-sucking mud. I had so much anxiety by the time we got to the start that a really big part of me thought about DNS-ing. What. The actual. Fuck?

Arriving late actually helped me out for a change. I had no time to continue worrying, because I had to focus entirely on getting my drop bag finished and in place, stretching, and doing a final gear check. I smooched and hugged my babies, and my baby momma, and hurried to the start. As the pre-race directions began, I still had no damned clue where to put my drop bag. It was critical I get it to the correct aid station, because there were a few essential items in it, including my pre-portioned baggies of Tailwind for the return trip on this out-n-back course. I texted my wife to please, please, please help me. She and the kids were sitting in the van, just a few feet away, to watch me start. Ang ran over and got my drop bad squared away. Thanks again, baby!

Like the dumb-ass I am, I caught not one word of the pre-race instructions. I was too busy stretching and dealing with the drop bag. Before I knew it, the race was underway!

The Big Turtle included marathon and 50 mile options. Both distances began at 7AM. We began by running a short 3/4 mile or so on pavement, until we reached the forest- and first major climb. Affectionately dubbed, "Heart Attack Hill," by the local running community, I kind of enjoyed the first three miles of nearly non-stop climbing. Coming mostly in the form of switchbacks, I fell into a groove with the long line of runners ahead of me, and just settled in for a great day, all of my crazy anxiety melting away as I climbed higher.

The race website claimed the course has about 2600' of climbing. I feel like it was a lot more, but I've yet to verify this on my Garmin. I may simply be suffering from, holy-shit-this-race-kicked-my-ass-so-it-had-to-be-37,000'-of-elevation-change syndrome. At any rate, it was based on that kind of elevation, and the course description that said runners would climb up to the ridge, and then essentially run across it, that I built my pace chart for the day.

***** UPDATE ***** I downloaded my Garmin Data...

WTF?!?!

I went into Big Turtle with a plan. A pretty specific plan, actually. I find the process of building a pace chart and race plan to be extremely beneficial. It keeps me chill throughout the day, no matter how my race is going. I like having the numbers for my ideal finish, my "worst-case-scenario", and something right in the middle. Of course, my race plan factored in 7,000' less climbing than I got :/

The forecast called for a high of 90 degrees, and the rain had stopped a few minutes before we arrived at the start. The precipitation had worked to keep the morning temperature and humidity in a near perfect range; however, the huge-ass climb in those first miles set me about seven minutes off my ideal pace at the first aid station.

The aid station's for the race were spaced within 3-6 miles of each other for the first and last 17-ish miles of the race. My pace plan basically rotated between two cycles of run/walk- the first a little faster than the second. Since I was forced to do a lot of walking on the first section of the course, I opted to flip-flop my fast/ slow rotation, and was able to make up nearly all the time during the next section of the course, which included a large amount of gravel-coated, forest-service road. I made a mental note that this section could have potential to make up some time on the way back as well. Boy was I optimistic!

The third stretch of race course also included a fair amount of forest service road, as well as a lot of climbing on some beautiful single-track. I turned to my trusty iPod for support, starting with music and then moving to the Nerdist podcast. Seth Rogan, Wil Wheaton, Chris Hardwick, and a shit-ton of irreverent humor got me through the toughest patches of climbing.

My nutrition plan for Big Turtle was to get 99% of my calories from Tailwind, and grab solid food that caught my fancy. This was my first race using only liquid nutrition. I've seen many of my ultra running pals have success with this, and I constantly struggle to get enough solid food calories from sources that don't fuck my stomach up. To this end, I had loaded my hydration pack with Tailwind, and stashed re-fills in my drop bag, located (hopefully) at the 17-ish mile aid station. I carried Pedialyte in one handheld, and water in the other, until I ran out of Pedialyte. Then I re-filled both my handhelds at each of the aid stations with ice and water, and grabbed a small chocolate-covered donut at the second station. 

The fourth course segment was a series of rolling hills...that rolled up and up and freaking UP! By the time I hit the 17 mile aid station, I was 30-40 minutes behind my ideal pace, and I was pretty beat-down. This was my darkest part of the race, mentally. I had been dreading the last stretch of course leading out to the turnaround. It was eight miles of secluded, single-track, coming just at the time the day had decided to start bringing the pain in the form of heat and humidity.

The path to this aid station was just cruel, in only the way ultras can be. I popped out of the woods,, onto a gravel road, spying two volunteers sitting in camp chairs. I knew the aid station was coming up, and I could see the trail markers meandering back into the woods directly in front of me. There were no coolers, treats, or aid station supplies of any kind. I was worried for a split second, until one of the nice young people said, "Aid Station's at the bottom of the hill." Har-har. Of course it is. At the BOTTOM of this very long hill that I will then have to climb back up. You know the course is a bitch when you hate going DOWN hills!

At the aid station, some amazing volunteers helped me re-load my pack with Tailwind and ice, and re-filled my handhelds with water and more ice. While they were doing those things for me, I filled my bandana with yet more ice, and wrapped it around my neck...AHHHHHHH!  GLORIOUS ICE! I downed a half can of Coke, and a caffeinated Hammer espresso gel. I also rubbed down my legs and lower back woth some of my miracle muscle rub cream. Before heading back out, I strapped on an audiobook (the Sookie Stackhouse series book 4- Dead to the World). I want to take a minute here to give a nod to all of the amazing aid station volunteers at this event. Top fucking notch! Someone came running to me before I reached any of the aid stations, took whatever I needed filled, and had it back to me in a flash of awesomeness! Nothing but smiles and helpfulness all day long!

I got my audiobook going as I walked up that damned hill. I also took a minute to text my wife and let her know that I was behind schedule. Ang had taken our babies to a tour of Carter Caves, and I desperately wanted them to take their time and enjoy the day. At this point, based on the climbing, the adjustments to my pacing, and the ever increasing heat and humidity, I figured I would be about an hour off of my ideal time by the time I finished this sixteen mile out-n-back stretch of the course.

At the top of the hill I thanked the volunteers again, and turned left into the woods. This was a looooong, stretch of alone time. I started my book almost immediately, and resumed my run a little, hike up a hill, cycle. I was in a pretty low place for a big chunk of the "out" portion of this out-n-back. Fortunately Sookie and Eric kept me forging ahead!

Once again, I hit a long downhill as I approached the aid station. This was a fun stop. I had been counting people coming back from the turnaround, so I knew there were six guys and one girl ahead of me. The leader was light years ahead of everyone, and I am not a dude who's looking to win ultras. I'm a middle-of-the-packer, and I'm totally cool with that. I set challenges and goals for myself, and as long as I am consistently meeting those goals, I'm happy. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider the possibility that I could finish in the top 10. Maybe even the top 5. So when I arrived at the aid station, I immediately noticed that there were four guys there. They all seemed to be in a similar state to me...the heat affecting everyone by now.

I had been using a trekking pole, and at this point I was congratulating myself for the brilliance of that choice. I stuck it in the ground, out of the way of other runners, willing myself not to forget it. A very young little dude who was volunteering, ask me if he could refill my bottles. I happily said he could, and thanked him. Another volunteer, at the other end of the age spectrum, ask if I'd like my picture taken with the trail signage. Everyone was talking and smiling. It was nice to be around all this human interaction after nearly two hours alone in the woods.

I grabbed my handhelds from the young fella and sat them on the ground at my feet while I ate some watermelon slices. Yummy! As I grabbed a pack of blueberry "Breakfast Biscuits", another volunteer was frantically searching for the owner of my handhelds, thinking that some unfortunate runner had left them behind. I assured her that I would not leave without them...and then proceeded to leave without my trekking pole. One of the other runners actually caught me as I was leaving the aid station and ask, hadn't I had a pole when I came in? Thanks dude!

I crept slowly back up the long hill, downing another espresso gel as I got my book started again. The freshly repacked ice-bandana felt great around my neck. A couple guys had went out ahead of me, and a couple more passed me as I climbed. At this point I estimated I was in 11th place (10th dude). By the time I'd reached the top of the hill, I was engrossed in my book, and the pure joy of knowing that I had passed the halfway point. Every step I took from here on out was a step closer to the finish, and my kiddos! Without realizing it until I was only a mile from the 33-ish mile aid station, feeling fucking fantastic. My return trip through this section was much quicker, and I had even managed to pass several folks on the way, leaving me in 7th place once again. Barreling down the hill towards the aid station felt much better this time around, because my family was waiting for me! My eyes danced around frantically searching for them. I finally spotted them, running over to receive our traditional dad-you're-too-schweaty-for-a-real-hug-so-here's-an-air-hug from Izabella, and a real I-can-deal-with-your-schweaty-hug from Xan Man. We talked about their day at the caves as the volunteers and Ang re-filled, and re-iced everything for me. Ang asked me how much Tailwind to mix in, and when I told her, she tried to convince me it was too heavy a mix, but my exhausted mind couldn't do the fancy math, so I ultimately figured , better too much than not enough, right? Wrong! Izabella offered me chicken nuggets, which sounded- and tasted- delicious.

It was so great to see my babies for a few minutes. It gave me an amazing boost, as always!

As I was coating my legs and lower back with muscle rub again, my buddy and pacer Dave appeared. Thank the gods! Dave had driven down from Ohio just to help get me through the last 17 miles, and there's a good chance I wouldn't have finished without him.

After some more hugs (air and real), another half a coke, and a whole bunch of I love you's, I thanked everyone and Dave and I headed back up the hill. I quickly filled him in on how my day had been going as we crested the hill and re-entered the woods. We headed down the single-track at a brisk pace. Before I knew it, we were cruising along, probably too fast, but feeling great. Dave and I haven't got to hang out in quite a while, so we enjoyed exchanging stories as the miles flew by. The day continued to heat up.

Eventually, just as we were coming into the next aid station, my stomach started to get a little tweak. I ate a gas-X (my second of the day), and opted to walk for a half mile, and then run easy for a few miles, until it settled down. Unfortunately, it was at this point in the day that the course ran through a lot of completely unshaded areas. There was quite a lot of full sun running out on those fire roads that I had foolishly thought would be fast sections, while crossing them that morning. The sky had still been so overcast at that time, I just hadn't realized there wasn't any tree cover.

My stomach went from bad, to worse, to holy shit why the fuck am I out here, in an extremely short time. Dave was amazing. He kept talking to me, keeping me out of my own head. He encouraged me to keep drinking and reminded me to take extra electrolytes. For the first time all day, my Tailwind wasn't tasting good; in fact, it was getting to be pretty gross. Had we mixed it too strong? It seemed likely.

All the walking out in the sun, with the temps approaching 90 degrees, was beating me down quickly. By the time we reached the 40 mile aid station, several of the runners I had passed earlier, had caught or passed me back. Dave wisely suggested I sit for a few minutes in the shade of the aid station pop-up tent, to try and get my shit together. We met a couple of nice runners as I sat there, ice wrap around my neck, for the next twenty minutes. More runners passed us, and all hope of PR'ing was gone. At this point, I just had to figure out how to get my ass outta this incredibly comfy camp chair, and to the finish line, so close yet so far away.

A couple of the fellas we met were feeling the effects of the heat as well. The first was a young, muscular dude who was running his first trail ultra; the other was an older, more experienced ultra runner who looked like he felt as bad as me. The young fella and his wife were talking just a few feet from where I sat. I'm not sure what he said, but her response was, "If you even think about that, I will literally cut your eye." Now that's some hardcore crewing right there. This interaction was made even more awesome by the fact that she had a small baby swaddled to the front of her, and she shot me a sly wink when she noticed my eavesdropping. That wink said, "Somebody's gotta kick his ass! He'll thank me for it later!"

I'd love to say that I very wisely sat there in the shade, exchanging anticdotes with the volunteers and getting my shit together, until such time I was confident I could go on- but that's not exactly what happened. While it's true that I was feeling better, even more so than I could have ever imagined only twenty minutes earlier, and that I did listen to a volunteer tell me all about his son's local tattoo shop, what actually got me moving was the deep-rooted need NOT to shit my pants in front of a large group of people. See, for a few miles I had been feeling like I was probably gonna puke or crap. Suddenly, sitting there in some unsuspecting person's camp chair, all those hours worth of liquid calories were in a big hurry to come out. Let's just say the urge hit me so quickly that there were a couple of close calls as I desperately clinched my cheeks as I tried to casually stand and get moving. Dave was still filling his bottle as I headed off (the wrong way) down the trail. Luckily the volunteers pointed me in the right direction :) Once again I forgot my pole. Damn.

As soon as we were out of earshot, I confided my dire predicament to Dave. As is my luck, there were obstacles. First of all, we were in the middle of that forest service road, with a long range of site. Secondly, the hill on both sides of the road was extremely steep. It wouldn't be easy to climb, let alone squat on. I walked faster...and faster...until I had no choice but to drop trow. If you've ever had to hold in a dump...while walking....after more than ten hours of almost nothing but liquid calories, you'll empathize I'm sure. I skittered over the hill at the best place I could find, and Dave, bless his heart....stood lookout.

Without going into too much detail....oh, hell, who am I kidding? I live for too much detail. What happened next closely resembled a Jackson Pollock painting, with some leaves thrown in. All that Tailwind with little in the way of solid food all day, shot out of me like a high pressure power washer. Daaaaaaaaamn!

Dave quickly realized I didn't have my damn trekking pole...again. This time I had left it stuck in the ground, right next to my splatter painting. In the truest display of friendship known to man, Dave ventured in to retrieve it. Now that's above and beyond, people!

The good news was that I felt noticeably better almost immediately. Though still walking, my pace increased and my stomachache was all but gone. Unfortunately, I had a new problem- blisters.

I have never had a major issue with blisters before. After developing small ones here and there, early in my ultra running career, I began experimenting with various solutions. Believe it or not, I landed on cheap cotton toe socks, and they have worked ever since. Of course, they only work when I remember to pack and wear them. Sadly, I didn't even realize I had forgotten them until I began having an issue with some little pebbles rattling around in my right shoe around the 20 mile mark. I very wisely stopped to get them out as soon as I noticed they were becoming am issue. Twice I stopped, as a matter of fact, and then I changed socks, wiped down my feet, and cleaned out my shoes at the aid station. Long story short, I wound up with some pretty crazy-ass blisters on the balls of both feet, as well as on a few toes.

 

Dave continued to encourage me to drink and take electrolytes. He asked if I felt I could run again. I told him I'd like to walk the rest of this road section, which I felt should be ending shortly, because there was still very little shade and I didn't want to push too hard too soon. But then that damn road section kept going and freakin' going, and we began catching up with other walkers. With Dave's encouragement, I began a slow run, following his lead and sticking to the small patches of shade along the edges of the road. By the time we hit the woods again, we had passed a couple of runners and I was feeling pretty darn good!

At the aid station we had refilled my pack, which diluted the Tailwind. It sat much better on my belly, enabling me to drink more. As we approached the final three miles,  I dug deep, knowing that if I could make it there, it was literally all downhill to the finish. I had worked my way back to seventh place, with the final runner I'd passed hot on our heels for about a mile. However, once we hit that final two mile stretch of downhill switchback, I put everything I had left into pounding out the finish. As we hit the road and ran the last 3/4 mile, Dave commented that we were running a 7:10 mile! It felt wonderful. 

As I came through the finish, I looked around frantically for my kiddos. When I saw them my heart swelled and I ran straight to them with open arms. Best way to finish ever! 

While I didn't PR, I accomplished other goals. First of all, I determined that I DO want to be running ultras again, and that a couple of super-long races a year will probably be enough. 

Second, I made it to the finish. I was able to push through the really tough spots and get er' done. 

As always, I could never have accomplished this amazing feat without the love and support of my amazing family. The biggest thanks imaginable goes out to Xan, Izabella, and Ang. You guys rock!

Huge thanks to my buddy Dave, as well. I have a feeling I may have collapsed into my own pile of poop and laid there until someone came looking for me, had it not been for my amazing friend and pacer. Thanks brotha!

I'd also like to thank all the wonderful volunteers , and the race management! You guys put on a wonderful event and took great care of us all. Thank you!

After a couple of days to heal and rest, I emailed a running friend and ultra running genius, Lee Shane, to get her thoughts on my experience with Tailwind and the stomach issues I was having at Big Turtle. She provided some amazing feedback about the effects of a too-heavy concentration of Tailwind, and caffeine consumption during ultras. Hopefully I can use this information to avoid stomach issues at future events.

I sit here now, a week to the day from Big Turtle.  I typically take a full week off after an ultra, to give my body plenty of recovery. That is just what I did this time, and it was, as always, the right choice. My recovery has been awesome. Even my blisters have healed quickly. Monday begins a new cycle of training for my next 100 Miler. 

Life is good.