I almost talked myself out of running the Georgia Death Race.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about who I am now as a runner, a reevaluation sparked by my recent knee issues. In the fourteen months following the surgery, my running slowly progressed. But, as I discussed in my previous post, the last four months had been more of a setback. Any athlete who has had a serious injury knows that the hardest part of rehab is not knowing if you'll ever be capable of doing what you used to do. By the time I reached the start line of the Death Race, I had convinced myself that my days of running the really tough, technical stuff might be over and I needed to focus on different goals. However, here I was, with four weeks of training, getting ready to do something really stupid. Nineteen hours later, laying face down in the dirt, I had no regrets. Except for maybe not seeing that root.
The Georgia Death Race is a 64 mile point to point run in the North Georgia mountains. It starts at Vogel State Park near Blairsville and ends at Amicalola Falls near Dawsonville. The first half of the run follows the ridgeline on single track and by the time you are finished, you have endured over 30,000 feet of elevation change. This seems almost impossible in Georgia, but much like with the Bartram Trail, the original trail designer must have believed that switchbacks are for sissies. If there is a mountain, you go over it, not around.
|Created by Cary Stephens (not the full course)|
The check in and drop bag drop off went smoothly that morning. After a reading from Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities (it was the best of times, it was the worst of times...), the RD sent the runners off into the night. After a short run through the campground, runners hit the single track and remained there for the next 28 miles. Just like any race on single track, there was a long conga line, but I ended up somewhere in the middle in a pack that was moving at the pace I wanted to. After an initial steep climb, a long downhill gave everyone a chance to spread out before the big, steep 2000 foot climb to come. The views of the lights in the valley down below were a nice reward as you continued the climb.
|Photo by John McBrayer|
The heat became a major issue as the day wore on. Without any leaves, there was no shade, and although there was a nice wind, the climbs became tougher and tougher. Around 20 miles, you drop down a couple miles to an aid station. It is an out and back and I could tell by looking at the runners coming up the hill that it was going to be tough getting back up that hill. It was not as steep as the other climbs, just longer and hotter. By the time we hit the next aid station, the heat had really cranked up. This was the first really warm weekend of the year and most of us were not acclimated. This is what I was doing two weeks before (yes, my hair is frozen) :
At mile 28, there was a short, easy road section, followed by a a nice swinging bridge and then a cruel surprise- another long steep climb. This turned into a seven mile section of single track with more steep climbs and descents. People were really starting to suffer from the heat here.
At the end of this section, however, it was all forest road to the end. Unfortunately, the roads were gravel and at times rough, beating up your feet pretty badly. Luckily, I ended up running with a couple of other runners whose pace kept me moving decently and conversation distracted me from the monotony of road.
There was a particularly pretty section of paved road that went through some farm land. Everything was green, the daffodils were blooming and the people were friendly. When the road turned back to gravel, a never-ending climb to next aid station began. It wasn't steep, but after a long, hot day, it was just tiring. The mileage was off in some parts of the course and I'm hoping this was one of the sections. It sure felt longer than seven miles.
Once you reach the final aid station at the top, you have a nice easy run downhill to Amicalola Falls State Park. Once in the park, you finish by running down a steep, rocky road, and then down a final, rooty section of trail to the finish. About 500 yards from the finish, I took my only spill of the day and it was a good one. One moment I was upright and the next minute face down in the dirt. Literally. I skinned my forehead and my nose. I landed on my bad knee. After laying there briefly, laughing at my stupidity, I got up and assessed the damage. I was afraid Tony would see me at the finish with blood streaming down my face, so I rinsed it with my water and waited for two runners who came up behind me to make sure it didn't look too bad. A few minutes later, I had my spike in my hand, a nice finish to over nineteen hours of running.
So, my day....
My knee didn't hurt. The moment I decided it couldn't handle the tough runs, it proved me wrong. I have no explanation for that. I was hurting just sitting the day before. Eight hours on similar terrain on the Bartram made me limp. But today, nineteen hours of steep controlled slides, mud, off camber trails, rocks, and uneven gravel didn't bother it. I did take some ibuprofen to keep inflammation down, but not much. When I fell at the end of the race, I scraped and bruised the knee, but it still works fine. I didn't feel the imbalance in my legs that I had been feeling, so my visits to the weight room have paid off. I guess I'll know for sure when I go for a run on it in a day or two. My big problem, though, was my asthma. I already had some chest congestion before the race started. Being stuck in the dust of other runners made it worse and my lungs ached most of the day.
I did not expect to go under 20 hours. Even though I did not try to push my pace at any point and was careful to run as gently as I could, I finished at least five hours faster than I predicted. I was in a good mood all day, very thankful that my knee was working, that I was capable of doing this race, and I was just happy to be out there.
The race was well done. The terrain was extremely challenging and beautiful. The aid stations workers and radio operators were all friendly and helpful. The course was exceptionally well marked and whenever I started to worry if I was in the right place I found a marker. I wish there had been more real food at the aid stations later in the day, but that is a problem at many races. Apparently there had been some, but it was gone when I came through and a couple of aid stations had run out of coke. The bacon aid station, however, did not disappoint! The drop bag return was a bit problematic, but the race director quickly contacted me and is mailing what I was missing.
It was nice to see many friends from NC, SC and GA at the race, both running and crewing. The Foothills crowd was well represented (Psyche and Charles, Byron, the Lundblads). And congratulations to Mark Lundblad who won the race tearing it up in 11:40!