The Inaugural FlatRock 101-Mile Race, September 23-25, 2022
FlatRock was not the fall 100-mile race I had wanted to run. I had put my name in the lottery for Superior 100, confident that my odds were good to get in. I ran Superior in 2018 and have been saying ever since that I was going back one of these years. I thought 2022 was the year for my return to that gorgeous and challenging course. But my name was not selected in the lottery.
The disappointment stung. After moping about it for a while, I accepted that it was just not meant to be this year. (It turned out that the weather at Superior was brutal with 15 hours of rain. I was almost glad I hadn’t gotten into the race when I heard about that.)
But if not Superior, which fall 100 should I run? I looked at Hallucination 100 at Woodstock. It was a Friday start and looked okay, but didn’t excite me. And it was at least a 12-hour drive away. All I could think about was that if I drove for 12 hours the other direction, I could be in Colorado!
Maybe No Business 100 in Tennessee. It has been on my radar for a while as a Friday-start potential 100-mile race. No Business looks like the type of 100-mile race that I love—rugged, challenging, and beautiful. The 33-hour cutoff time gave me some pause. Could I finish that course in under 33 hours? Did I want to drive over 11 hours to find out? Again, I did not feel that spark of excitement when I considered signing up.
I also considered going back to Mines of Spain. I love so much about that race! However, I considered too long. Mines of Spain sold out quickly and when I checked there were 66 people on the wait list. (It turns out that I could have gotten it. Our youngest son got on that long wait list and got in to run the 100K.)
I scoured UltraSignUp and Run100s.com for other possibilities and came up with nothing that fit my requirements. If you are a new reader to my blog, let me explain. I want my running to glorify Jesus Christ and as part of that goal, I have made a personal commitment not to race on Sunday. I want to keep the Sabbath day holy as commanded in the Scriptures. I’m not trying to be legalistic about it—I have run some 100K races that finished in the early hours of Sunday morning— but I want to keep the intent of the commandment as I understand it. This does limit my choice of 100-mile races, but I have still found the doors wide open to plenty of adventures.
One race director particularly has been supportive and accommodating of my convictions. Jeremy Harrison allowed me a Friday morning start at Outlaw 100 in February 2021. First, he interviewed me thoroughly to ensure I had the experience and crew I needed to safely be out on the course for 24 hours without aid stations and other race day support, then he gave me the green light. Finishing Outlaw 100 was one of the highlights of my running journey. Read about that experience here and here.
When Jeremy announced that the new FlatRock Fall Running Festival for 2022 would include a 101-mile option over Saturday and Sunday, he let me know right away that I would be welcome to run it as a Friday-Saturday race. I was hesitant. Did I want to run another race that required a 24-hour early start? This option definitely creates extra challenges. Plus, I knew it was likely I would end up with another unofficial finish on my UltraSignUp record. How much did I care about that? And the most important question: Did I really want to run 101 miles on the FlatRock course? The 101-mile race at FlatRock would be three out-and-backs on the 50K course, plus an additional short out-and-back over the roughest part of the trail.
FlatRock is the race I have loved to hate. It doesn’t look too hard on paper, but this course will eat you up with its rough relentless rocks. I have had plenty of time on the trail to learn this lesson as a Knight of the FlatRock Hall of Pain and a two-time Triple Crown finisher. (To be inducted into the Hall of Pain, one must finish the 50K at FlatRock for 10 consecutive years. I was knighted Lady Steadfast in 2019. To earn the Triple Crown award, one had to complete WinterRock 25K in January, FlatRock 101K in April, and FlatRock 50K in September. The Triple Crown award is no longer available since the 101K has been moved to coincide with the 50K in September.)
I prayed about which race I should choose, as I always do. FlatRock seemed to stand out more and more in my mind and I continued to feel no enthusiasm for the other race options. My husband was agreeable to me running the 101-miler at FlatRock.
I confirmed with Jeremy that I could start my race Friday morning and then pulled the trigger— or rather clicked the button— and before I knew it, the UltraSignUp registration confirmation email was showing up in my inbox. I was going to attempt 101 miles on the FlatRock course.
I knew I would be facing new challenges at this race. My husband would not be at FlatRock to support and crew for me. It would be my first 100 without him. The men of our church were invited to Kirtland, Ohio, for an important priesthood retreat and we both felt strongly that he should go. It was the same weekend as FlatRock.
FlatRock 101 mile would be 11 weeks from my 100-mile race at Cry Me a River (CMAR). I had never attempted 100s this close together. I had been feeling fatigued on my training runs. I didn’t feel the pop in my legs that usually comes when I taper. Would my legs be recovered enough? Would they hold up to the beating the FlatRock course would certainly deliver?
Neither of our sons was available to crew or pace for me at FlatRock. Our daughter Elizabeth would be there. She was running the 50K and could offer some support on Friday, but needed to sleep Friday night and would be busy running her own race on Saturday.
Could I run a 100-miler without crew and with no aid station support for the first 24 hours? My heart said yes. Part of me relished facing this new challenge . . . and part of me was slightly fearful. If your goals don’t scare you a little bit they aren’t big enough, right?
I had run through the night with no pacer at CMAR. I knew I could do that again, but at CMAR I was supported by my husband and had aid stations, as well as the occasional company of other runners on the course. The successful completion of my solo, self-crewed 100K run for my birthday Freeze Fest last January added another layer to my confidence, but still I knew FlatRock 101 mile would be an ambitious undertaking.
I began to make careful plans, including a self-crewing list for me to check when I reached each end of the course (the turn around and the start/finish area). I knew that after hours of running and no sleep, my brain might not be functioning optimally.
I began visualizing myself driving successfully alone down to Independence, Kansas, and staying comfortably alone in the hotel room. (I had never stayed alone in a hotel room before!) I pictured myself counting down the seconds until my 7:00 a.m. start and heading out onto the course solo and happy. I imagined myself receiving the massive 8-inch finishers’ buckle from Jeremy.
Logistically speaking, water was going to be the challenge with my early start. I had run 18-mile loops on my birthday run carrying all the water I needed, but that was in the cold of January. FlatRock had a reputation for being hot. There was road access to Oak Ridge and the turn around where I could plant gallon jugs of water, but I would need to cover a rough 10-mile stretch from the start to Oak Ridge with only the water I could carry. I knew at my 100-mile pace, it could take me over 3 hours to cover that distance.
I decided that I would carry an extra 20-ounce water bottle in the back of my vest—I had done this many times on training runs—and that, along with the two 20-ounce bottles in my front pockets, would have to be enough. This would already mean a burdensome load in my vest, and I did not feel I could carry any more.
My nutrition goal was 60 grams or more of carbs per hour. Once again, I planned to use my EFS-Liquid Shot slurry as my primary fuel, supplemented with small bits of solid food every 15 minutes. For simplicity, I reduced my solid food choices to three items: toaster pastries, ginger cookies, and homemade peanut butter and cracker sandwiches.
I bought extra soft flasks so I could make up all my slurry before the start of the race. It would need to stay cold, so I planned to have a small cooler chest at the turn around and another cooler in my van at the start/finish. A potential problem with my cooler at the turn around was raccoons. Since the trail is near a large river and a lake, there were sure to be raccoons. Those clever and fiendish critters can be expert cooler raiders and when they cannot open a cooler, they have been known to drag it off into the woods. I ordered two thick straps online—one to wrap around my cooler to keep it closed and one to secure it to a tree. Like a good Boy Scout, I planned to be prepared.
Again because of the potential raccoon problem, I decided not to leave any solid fuel at the turn around. I considered keeping it in the secured cooler, but decided the risk of it becoming water logged from melting ice was too great. I would keep my solid fuel in my van and carry enough with me for each entire 50K out and back. For quick self-crewing, I filled three Ziploc bags with 12+ hours worth of solid fuel cut into serving size chunks and filled one more bag with 4+ hours of solid fuel for my last shorter out and back leg.
I planned to set out my water jugs, turn around drop bag, and cooler chest before sunset on Thursday evening, since I did not want to do that in the dark and it would barely be light Friday morning in time for the start of my race. Elizabeth and her boyfriend Lazaro would check them Friday evening, and Lazaro would add ice to both of my coolers as needed throughout my race.
I expected FlatRock to be hot. It almost always is— except for the occasional year when it is raining. As race day approached, however, it looked like the weather was going to outdo itself with record-breaking heat. The high temperature for Friday was predicted to be fairly average in the upper 80s, but the high Saturday was slated for upper 90s with blazing sun. I knew that the south-facing bluffs along the lake meant that most areas of the trail would be even hotter than forecasted.
Another concern with my early start was spider webs. There would be no runners ahead of me to take them down and I would get the full brunt of them. For whatever reason, September is the month when the spiders seem to kick into overdrive with their web building efforts. Our home trails currently required carrying a cotton candy stick on every run (a leafy branch that one carries in front of them to avoid taking down the webs with one’s face).
In spite of all these challenges, I was beginning to get excited about the race. I continued to make lists and refine my plans. Soon it was time to start packing. (Packing for a 100-mile race is always a monumental job. See my Race Ready packing list for a summer 100 in this blog post.)
About a week before the race, Elizabeth told me she was considering riding down with me on Thursday and leaving Lazaro to drive down on his own Friday after he got off work. This would definitely be a huge boost for me, but I did not allow myself to set my hopes on it in case it did not work out. I continued to visualize doing everything solo.
Departure day came. Elizabeth was going to ride down with me! I loaded all my stuff in our blue van and headed to her house to pick her up. It was wonderful to have her company. The drive went smoothly and quickly. We decided to drive straight to the course to scout out the best places for my drop bag, cooler, and water jugs. Since Elizabeth was along, we didn’t need to put them out tonight. She would take care of that tomorrow as she crewed me, but I did need to know exactly where they would be.
First, we drove to the turn around and then to the location of the Oak Ridge aid station. At both places, we hiked down the trail a ways. It felt good to stretch our legs. It was a beautifully cool and cloudy fall day, with temperatures topping out at 66 degrees. “Why can’t this be race day weather?” Elizabeth lamented. I had no answer, except this was FlatRock and it was supposed to be hard.
Elizabeth wanted to explore the Punch Bowl— a huge rock basin that we crossed during the race. It lay between the turn around and Oak Ridge, but was too far to hike from either point. “I think we can drive there,” Elizabeth told me. I was skeptical. She directed me from Google maps and we found ourselves on a narrow gravel road. “It should be right here,” she stated. We parked and got out. Lo and behold, there below us was the Punch Bowl! We scrambled down to it and looked back up toward the van, amazed. We had always thought we were in the middle of nowhere at the Punch Bowl. We never dreamed there was a road just out of sight over the top of the rim (albeit a pretty primitive road).
Dusk settled in and forced us to head back to the van and then to our hotel. Before retiring to bed, I laid out everything I would need in the morning. I slept fairly well that night for the eve of a race, waking up about an hour before my 5:00 a.m. alarm. It was finally race day! I lay in bed quietly praying and thinking through the day ahead, then got up and began going down my list of pre-race preparations while Elizabeth grabbed a few more minutes of sleep. (Can you tell I am a list-maker?)
I taped and lubed my usual spots, dressed in my chosen race clothing, and carefully put on my socks and shoes. I had decided to start in my Topo MT4s with my trusty Superior 3.0s in reserve. The morning was cool (although I knew it would heat up quickly), so I kept my arm sleeves handy in case I decided to wear them at the start. I was also unsure if I would need to start with a flashlight or if it would be light enough to see the trail. (Morning light comes more slowly in the woods.)
We loaded up and off we went into the darkness. Our hotel was only about 10 minutes from the start/finish area below the dam of Elk City Lake. It seemed odd to drive across the dam and look down into total darkness. No string of headlights and taillights winding down the road before us. No lights at the shelter house. Once again, I was grateful for Elizabeth’s presence. I certainly could have done this on my own, but it was so much more comfortable to have her along.
We arrived with ample time to be ready for my 7:00 a.m. start. I loaded up my vest and checked my lists. Since Elizabeth would be meeting me at Oak Ridge and the turn around, I did not need to carry all my solid fuel, though I did still need to carry the extra bottle of water to ensure I had enough to reach Oak Ridge at mile 10.
I did some dynamic warm up, then it was time to make some decisions. I decided “no” on the arm sleeves (even though it was in the low 50s at start time, I knew it would warm up quickly) and “no” on starting with the flashlight (daylight had arrived in the nick of time).
Then it was time for the count down. Elizabeth positioned herself with her camera and I looked at my phone to see the passing seconds. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one… GO!” I hit start on my Coros watch and my race began.
The first half mile or so of the race is on a paved road, which climbs slightly uphill on the outbound journey. Then we cut through a grassy ditch to reach the single track trail. Immediately, the trail climbs steeply and winds through, around, and over rocks. So many rocks. Ah, my old friend FlatRock. The familiarity of the trail was comforting, but did not make it any easier. The effort of the climb warmed me quickly and I was glad I had foregone the arm sleeves. It was a beautiful morning and the sunrise over the lake was lovely. I turned on an audio book to help the miles seem to pass more quickly. (I listened to a total of three audio books during the first 100K of the race. I listen to them sped up so I can really roll through the pages!)
About one mile up the trail, I reached the iconic Crack. (Some people add another word or two before the word “Crack.”) It is just what it sounds like—a crack in the rocky bluff. The trail drops perhaps 10 feet down through the narrow crevice. It requires a bit of maneuvering and careful hand and foot placement, but being a small person, it is easier for me to fit through the opening than for some others. At least I didn’t have to stand in line for my turn to go down, as often happens during races. Climbing back up through the Crack on the return journey would be harder. (And I knew the difficulty level of climbing up it would increase with each return trip.)
(Photo by Mile 90)
(Photo by Mile 90)
I hiked a lot. I knew I needed to keep my effort level easy because there was a long way to go and experience has taught me that starting slow and easy pays off in the long run (pun intended). In my race plans, I had figured on 10 hours for my first 50K out and back. That seemed a generous amount of time, since I usually finished the 50K race in around 8 hours, and I secretly hoped to finish today’s first 50K in 9.5 hours. (Ha!)
I also hiked a lot because there are many sections in the first three miles where, for most of us, that is as fast as we can travel over the rough terrain. I was a bit concerned with my slow progress those first three miles, but felt like my effort level was spot on. As I reached easier sections of the trail (easier, not easy!) I was able to speed up to my planned pace. I was relieved that there were not too many spider webs. Maybe that was one concern I could cross off my list.
When I reached the prairie section (don’t be fooled—there are still a lot of rocks under that grass), something scuttled across the trail in front of me. What in the world was that? I took a closer look. It was a tarantula as big as my hand. He was a rather handsome fellow and didn’t seem in the least interested in biting me, so I took his photo before I went on my way. I had never encountered a tarantula at FlatRock before, but I heard they have been moving into the area. The other new critters at FlatRock were the armadillos, but it would be nighttime before I encountered any of them on the trail.
I rolled into Oak Ridge at 10:06 a.m. My planned time was 10:10, so I was right on schedule. It was great to have Elizabeth there to meet me! I refilled water and moved on toward the turn around where I would pick up more fuel.
My stomach began to feel that low grade ick—the same stomach ick that had cropped up in the early miles of CMAR. It was getting hard to eat and I cringed each time the nutrition alert went off on my watch. I felt tired and a little dizzy—like I was having sinus problems or something. “This is going to be a long, long race if I feel like this already,” I thought. It was way too early for stomach problems.
At the turn around, I told Elizabeth how I was feeling. With some effort, I booted the negative thoughts out of my brain. I reminded myself that I had felt great later on at CMAR and I would feel better later at this race, too. “It will get better,” I said out loud to Elizabeth and she agreed. I decided to take a Rolaid. That had seemed to helped early on at CMAR. I also had Elizabeth retrieve my peppermint oil from my purse (she was driving my van) and applied some to my wrists, taking long whiffs of its tingly odor.
As I turned my feet inbound toward the start/finish area, I tried to troubleshoot my stomach issues. I realized that I was ahead of schedule on my fueling. I had taken in more slurry and more solid fuel than I had planned to by that time. I thought this was a positive thing—but maybe not. I decided to back off until I was on schedule again and see how I felt then.
By the time I reached Oak Ridge again, I was feeling better. My stomach was not 100%, but definitely improved. I was moving okay and still on my target pace. As it was nearing 2:00 p.m. The day was beginning to warm up and I had the 10-mile stretch to cover before I could refill my water again. Elizabeth’s concerns that I might run out of water were valid. She convinced me to take an extra 2/3 of a disposable water bottle in the back of my vest, on top of the three 20-ounce bottles I was already carrying.
My load felt okay as I hiked out of the aid station, but when I tried to run, I found I could not do it. My vest was too heavy; I literally could not run under the weight. The only way I could run was to put one arm behind my back and lift up on my pack to ease the burden of it. I considered dumping out some of the water, but I couldn’t bring myself to take that risk. Getting dehydrated this early in my 100 with an extremely hot day ahead of me tomorrow could be disastrous. So I slogged along, knowing my load would lighten as I drank the water.
The last three miles were once again slow going, but I knew I was getting close to the road when I reached the Crack. I had previously thought that the Crack was exactly one mile from the start/finish area, but my watch had measured it to be more like 1.4 miles on the outbound trip. At any rate, I soon plunged down the steep hill to the road. As I neared the turn into the start/finish area, I heard cheering and cowbells. The race volunteers had arrived and were getting set up for tomorrow. I finished my first 50K at 5:19 p.m., slightly behind my 5:00 p.m. goal, but still within a reasonable time frame, and my legs were holding up well.
Jeremy, the race director, was there at the start/finish, as well as my FlatRock friend, Dennis. I appreciated their encouragement and support. Jeremy said he would be taking the water jugs out to the Boy Scout aid station soon and to the Prairie aid station later in the evening. That would relieve me of the necessity of carrying so much extra weight in water and was greatly appreciated.
I loaded up with more fuel and water, stuffed a long sleeved wool shirt in my pack in case the night got chilly, and put on my headlamp and Kogalla lighting. I was ready to start the second 50K and travel into the night. My planned goal for this leg was 10.5 hours (not counting the time spent at the start/finish).
Darkness fell and a whole new adventure began. I had thought I was going to get off easy on the spider webs, but no. The spiders had all just been waiting until dark to go into hyper web spinning mode. It got crazy! The spiders were all the same— some type of tan colored fat-bodied spiders that made extra thick and sticky webs. I tried carrying a cotton candy stick like I do back home, but I couldn’t keep the spiders shook off the stick. No way I was going to carry a stick full of spiders just waiting to crawl down my arm. I began stopping to find a new stick for every web. This was a great plan for spider management, but obviously not a good plan when it came to moving forward at a reasonable pace.
Besides spider web removal, another issue slowed me down substantially during the night. I was having lower GI problems. I won’t go into embarrassing details, but too much time was spent off trail in the bushes. I felt okay though— no nausea or cramping— and I was thankful for that. I took a Pepto Bismal tablet and stuck with my fueling plan as I moved along the best I could. I was beginning to suspect that the lower GI problems were related to the Rolaids (which contain magnesium hydroxide as well as calcium).
As I was trotting on down the trail through the darkness, something caught my eye and caused me to skid to an abrupt stop. It was a copperhead! I’ve seen enough of them to easily identify the Hershey Kiss pattern. This copperhead was a smaller fellow. He was moving across the trail and continued to slither calmly on his way as I stood frozen and watching. After he disappeared into the grass, I carefully skirted the area, keeping a close eye on where he had gone.
Venomous snakes scare me. I’m sure I’m not alone in that fear. I know that I am traveling through their “living room” so to speak when I run the trails and I respect their place in nature, but I do not want to encounter them. As I start every trail run, I pray and ask for God’s protection that neither I nor anyone else would be bitten by a venomous snake.
Feeling shaken, I continued through the darkness, traveling in the little bubble of daylight from my Kogalla and headlamp. Over the next couple miles, I encountered a few more tarantulas. And then . . . no, it couldn’t be! Not another copperhead! But it was. This one was about the same size as the first and he also was minding his own business and just happened to be crossing the trail.
My freaked-out level was through the roof at this point. It was dark and I was tired. I knew the acuity of my eyesight was reduced. What if I didn’t see the next copperhead and stepped right next to it or even on top of it? “Please, God, please, protect me from venomous snakes!” I prayed over and over.
It was 9:16 p.m. when I reached Oak Ridge— a full 35 minutes slower than I had hoped to be. Elizabeth met me here one final time before heading to the hotel for some sleep. Cindy and her volunteer crew had arrived and were setting up the aid station. They would be camping here overnight and it was reassuring to know that there would be some people around as I journeyed through the night. I picked up more fuel and water and headed for the turn around. I would be completely solo from here on out.
Not long after I left Oak Ridge, I began to feel a hot spot forming on the outside of my right heel. I also had been feeling just a tiny bit of soreness on the balls of both feet. Remembering the issues I had suffered at Outlaw 100 from wearing my Lone Peaks (that moved around too much on my feet), I decided that it was time to ditch the MT4s change into my tried and true Superior 3.0s. I had never had foot issues wearing my Superiors during 100s. I called Elizabeth and asked her to leave my Superiors and a clean pair of socks in my drop bag at the turn around before she went to the hotel. She said she would do that.
Through the Punch Bowl and over the first stile I went. The area between the stiles is fenced for cattle and the ground is torn up with their hoof prints in some areas, though I have never seen an actual cow during a race. Soon I was climbing the second stile and headed back into a more wooded section of trail.
The FlatRock trail is hard to navigate at night. It is marked by blue blazes, but they are not reflective and seem to disappear into the tree bark at night. Some of the turns can be tricky even in the daylight, and I was not surprised that I got off trail multiple times overnight.
Once I reached the turn around, I went all the way out to the parking lot (where the aid station would eventually be set up) and then back to my stash just inside the edge of the woods. I sat on my cooler and changed my shoes and socks. I didn’t take the time to clean my feet thoroughly, but did wipe off some of the dirt. My Superiors felt more snug than usual and I figured my feet must be swelling a bit.
Elizabeth had left a Ziploc bag of solid food and I put what I didn’t need inside the secured cooler. (I was not planning on feeding any raccoons!) I had just finished my last soft flask of slurry with EFS Pro and picked up two flasks of slurry made with EFS regular (which contains less sodium and slightly less carbs). I figured this would be okay during the cooler temperature of the night, but within an hour or so after switching to the EFS regular mix, my stomach started feeling off. I began to have a hard time eating again and my stomach felt too full. At 1:22 a.m., I found myself puking beside the trail. Some day I will obtain my goal of running a 100 miles without throwing up, but this was not going to be that race.
I decided that the volume of liquid that came out of my stomach meant I was low on sodium. This was certainly not my usual dry heaves caused by being under fueled. I let my stomach settle for a few minutes and then began to trickle in my slurry again—this time with an added Salt Stick capsule about every two hours. From here on, my stomach was absolutely solid the rest of the race.
I felt quite comfortable running alone in the darkness during this race. Being a country girl meant I was familiar with the usual night sounds and critters. Several times I heard packs of coyotes howling, but I knew they were nothing to worry. I also heard barred owls on multiple occasions. They have the classic “who-cooks-for-you” call, but also can make quite an unusual ruckus that sounds like a bunch of crazy monkeys running wild in the woods. “Oo-ooo-ahhh-ahh-ahh!” I was glad I knew what that creepy sound was!
I also heard frequent and loud rustling in the leaves and bushes along the trail that could have been unnerving if I hadn’t known it was the armadillos. They were so busy doing their thing in the leaves that they usually did not even see me until I was right on top of them. Then they would give their classic hop into the air and scurry into the underbrush. They were rather cute! Thank the Lord, I saw no more copperheads the rest of the race!
As I once again trudged through the last three rugged miles of the trail, I was feeling discouraged to be so far behind my time goals. I had slowed down way too much overnight, and I knew I was now in real danger of missing cut off times. I had wanted to be done with my second 50K around 4:00 a.m., but in reality it was about 6:00 a.m. as I left the woods and began to walk and jog down the road. Since packet pick up started at 6:00, a steady flow of cars with headlights beaming through the darkness passed by me. I wondered what they thought when they saw me loaded with my gear and lighting headed into the start/finish area. I made my way as unobtrusively as I could toward my parked van.
Rick Mayo of Mile 90 Photography spotted me. “Debbie,” he yelled. I stopped as he caught up with me. “I was hoping to catch you here so I could get a photo,” he said. I obligingly walked over to where his lights were set up and had a “pre-race” photo taken— with a 100K and almost 24 hours worth of wear and tear showing on my face.
I found my van and climbed inside the back where I had a Little Tykes chair to sit on and all my stuff within reach. Well, almost all my stuff. I didn’t see my blue clipboard with my self-crew list on it. “Oh well,” I thought, “I know what I need to do.” Foolish me, thinking I could trust myself to remember everything after running all night. I plugged in my phone and got busy.
I had one fully charged battery pack left for my Kogalla, but when I plugged into it, my light would not come on. “That’s weird,” I thought. I unplugged it and tried again with the same results. After several attempts, I gave up. I would just get one of the little charger bricks for my headlamp and call it good. But when I plugged my headlamp into the brick, it was the same story. My headlamp didn’t bounce back up to full brightness like it should have. (It had just started blinking its low battery signal and gone into dim energy saver mode as I arrived at my van.) What was going on?
Finally, I just grabbed my flashlight. At least it worked! Daylight would be coming soon anyway. I picked up two new soft flasks full of slurry and 6 hours worth of solid fuel. I was really to go (I thought). As I climbed out of my van, Elizabeth and Lazaro pulled up. (Elizabeth, you recall, was running the 50K and was there to pick up her packet.) I don’t remember all that we said, but I think I assured them I was doing okay and just had slowed down too much overnight. Elizabeth urged me to pick up the pace as soon as it got light. I told her I would and headed out for my last full out and back on the trail.
Even after 100K my legs felt surprisingly good. I clearly recalled times when my legs had been more tired and sore after a 50K on this trail than they were now. Yes, I felt some muscle fatigue, and yes I had a few tight spots here and there, but overall, I was encouraged by how well my legs were holding up.
The overnight temperatures had stayed comfortable and the morning was deliciously cool. I knew it wouldn’t last. The heat was coming, but I enjoyed the coolness while I could. With daylight breaking, strong legs, and no more spider webs to deal with (since I had just taken them all down on my inbound trip), I began moving faster. I still had to make some stops in the bushes, but not as often as through the night. The 101-mile and 101K runners had started at 7:00 a.m. and the 50K runners at 7:30. I wondered how long it would take the front runners to catch me.
Before I had gone more than a few miles, I had a moment of panic as I realized I had only picked up 6 hours worth of solid fuel when I should have picked up the full 12 hours worth for the entire out and back. I also realized that I had forgotten my phone and it was still charging in my van. “This is why you should always check your self-crewing list,” I scolded myself.
As I tried to figure out what to do, I remembered that Elizabeth had left a bag of solid fuel at the turn around and I had stashed it in the secured cooler. Whew! Disaster averted. I could do without my phone, but not without fuel.
Eventually, the first runners caught and whizzed past me, followed by a trickle of runners coming up behind me. Our friend Mindy, who was also running the 101-mile race, zoomed by with her sunshiny smile and words of encouragement. “Yay, Mindy!” I cheered for her. She is an impressive ultrarunner, but since she had just completed Superior 100 a few weeks previously, Mindy was not racing for the podium this day.
At first, I stopped and stepped off the trail for every runner. After all, these were the fast people and I wanted to get out of their way. After a while, I decided this was slowing me down too much. I still tried to be polite and let runners pass, but I didn’t stop running and step off the trail every time.
When I saw her at the start/finish, Elizabeth had told me her goal was to catch up with me. I was concerned that she might run harder than she should to try to achieve that goal. Not having had much time to train, Elizabeth was planning to keep her effort level very easy. When she has put in much training at all, Elizabeth becomes a podium contender (she took third female at the 101K last year), but this time she wasn’t racing—just going for a finish. (She still finished fifth female.)
I believe it was between Oak Ridge and the turn around outbound when she caught up with me. Another runner was tagging along behind her and they both ran behind me for a mile or so. Elizabeth was torn. She wanted to run behind me and urge me to go faster, but she also wanted to move on and finish in the best time of which she was capable on this day. I convinced her to go on. I didn’t feel like I could move much faster with or without her, plus it was becoming apparent to me that no matter how hard I pushed, it was probably beyond my ability to make the 4:00 p.m. cut off for completing this third 50K out and back. Still I kept pressing forward.
By 11:00 a.m. I began to feel the heat, and by noon I was cooking. Lazaro met me at the turn around and made sure I had what I needed. He offered me Elizabeth’s ice bandana (technically my bandana that Elizabeth had planned to borrow), explaining I might as well take it since she had not. I have two other ice bandanas, but somehow I had not gotten either of them into my drop bag. I gratefully took the one that Elizabeth had left behind. I limit my use of ice bandanas because they always cause chafing. They surely help me survive the heat, though, and that was rapidly becoming the priority on this day. It was only going to get hotter.
With ice in my bandana and ice in both water bottles, I began my last full inbound journey. My friend Dennis fell in behind me as I left the turn around aid station. A fellow Knight, he was running the 50K. I was still able to run short stretches, but soon the blast oven heat reduced me (and pretty much everyone else) to walking. I tried to run some short smoother sections that were shaded, but I could tell I was pushing the limit. Not wanting to tip over into heat exhaustion, I decided it was time to just hike. Dennis said he was going to hike it out too, but boy, can he hike fast! He soon passed me and hiked out of sight. His hiking speed inspired me to hike harder, but I still couldn’t match his pace.
I caught up with Dennis at the Oak Ridge aid station. I sat down in the shade for a moment as the awesome volunteers filled my bandana and bottles with ice and water. Dennis was encouraging another 50K runner who was struggling with the heat not to drop out of the race. “You have lots of time,” he said. “Just sit down, rehydrate, and cool off here for a while, and then you’ll feel better.”
I left the aid station before Dennis, but he soon caught me and passed me again with his super-speed hiking. (I am going to have to work more on my hiking speed!)
It – was – SO – hot! I heard later that it was the hottest FlatRock on record and it felt like it. Still, I was managing to hike sub-20 minute miles. I was pleased that even in the extreme heat my stomach felt fine and I was able to keep on track with my fueling. I filled my water bottles at every opportunity, including the unmanned water stations, and needed every bit of it. Also, I began taking SaltStick capsules to keep my sodium intake on par with my water intake (even though I was using EFS Pro in my slurry).
I began to notice some chafing in my usual vulnerable areas, plus a few new spots where I had never chafed before. I stopped and applied more lube several times through the remainder of the race. The inside of my upper arms began to feel chafed from rubbing against my pack and I had to hold them carefully so each arm swing didn’t add to the discomfort.
During the long, hot hike back to the start/finish I was wishing I had my phone so I could listen to some music or even another audio book for diversion. Since that was not possible, I had to summon all the mental fortitude I had to keep my thoughts from turning sour. I was not going to be back at the start/finish by 4:00 p.m. I mentally braced myself for a DNF. Would Jeremy pull me from the course?
Knowing it is a powerful weapon against negative thoughts and would get my mind off my own problems, I began to pray for other people and their needs as they came to my mind. A calmness settled over me. My frustration over slowing down too much overnight melted into resignation with being over cut off and then solidified into determination to complete the 101 miles regardless, even if it meant doing it outside the official bounds of the race.
Changing into my Superiors had not solved my foot woes. The soreness on the balls of my feet was burgeoning into pain, and I felt a new blister on the outside of my left heel. As I trudged through those notoriously rough 3 miles before I reached the road, both of my knees began to get achy as well. (It felt like my IT bands and stopping to stretch a few times helped some.) I was definitely not hiking sub-20 minute miles at this point.
The blisters in other areas were not a big issue, but the balls of my feet continued to grow more and more painful. Each step hurt. The thought of coming back over these rough 3 miles two more times made me want to sit down and cry, but I told myself there was no way I was going to drop out of the race at 94 miles. I tried to focus on the positives. My legs were still in decent shape— great shape actually for this point of the race. My stomach was totally fine. Fueling every 15 minutes was still going well and had not become the arduous chore it usually does at this point of a 100. Really, everything was good . . . except my feet. I would just have to endure the pain of my feet.
The miles go by so slowly when you are hiking. Finally, I eased down the steep hill to the road. My feet screamed when they hit the pavement, but I forced myself to jog at least some of the way to the start/finish. As hot and slow as this last 50K leg had been, I still finished it about 45 minutes faster than my through-the-night 50K leg. It was nearing 6:00 p.m. when I arrived back at the start/finish— not even close to the 4:00 p.m. cut off to start the last leg.
Lazaro, bless his heart, met me at the corner where we turn off the road into the start/finish area and jogged in with me. “Go under the arch! Go under the arch!” people directed me. “Go over the timing mat.”
“No, I’m not done!” I replied as I skirted to the left of the arch and angled toward my van.
“It’s fine. Go under the arch anyway,” people told me. But I didn’t. I wasn’t wearing a timing chip, so there was no need for me to cross the timing mats, and I certainly did not need my brain to be given any hope that we were finished.
I saw Jeremy and blurted, “I am going back out again. I would not be able to live with myself if I didn’t.” He made no indication that my race was over, so I headed to my van and prepared to venture into the second night. I was thankful to learn that Lazaro had recharged both my headlamp and one of my Kogalla battery packs. At least I would have plenty of light on my last 7.2 miles. I picked up my phone, loaded up with more fuel and water, and turned to leave.
“You only have to go to the Boy Scout aid station this time,” Elizabeth tried to encourage me. Only. It seemed like such a long way to still travel on my painful feet.
Walking out of the start/finish area to go cover those rugged miles of trail again was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done at a race. I prayed for God to give me strength to complete the task at hand. A cold wind met me on the road and caused me to shiver, but I knew I would warm up once I hit the woods. Sure enough, as soon as I turned into the trees and started up the first climb I was hot again.
The sun was setting over the lake as I reached the top of the bluffs. I stopped and took a few photos with my phone. I figured I had already missed the time cut off and earned my DNF, so there was no need to hurry now. But I WAS going to finish. I was going to finish because I knew the DNF would not sting nearly as much if I had covered every step of the course. I was going to finish because I had never quit during a 100— I had never stopped short of the finish line except when I had been pulled from the course and forced to stop— and I wasn’t going to start quitting now. I was going to finish because I could. It would be painful, but I was not doing my body any permanent damage. I was going to finish.
I pulled out my phone, clicked start on my running music play list, and pressed on. Soon darkness fell, but enough runners were still traveling on the out and back course to keep down the spider webs. My headlamp and Kogalla gave me plenty of light and I actually ran a bit on the smoother sections of trail. It seemed like a long, long time before I saw the lights of the aid station ahead of me, but finally I drew near. The Boy Scouts had set red and white lights along both sides of the trail for about 30 feet leading into the aid station. It looked cool and made me smile!
The boys were a friendly bunch. I had already explained my early start to them and one young boy in particular asked me each time I passed through how much further I had to go. I was extremely happy this time to sit down on the rock at the edge of the aid station and proclaim, “This is it! I’m turning around here and when I get back to the finish area, I am done.”
As they refilled my water bottles, I chatted with them a bit. I told them how awesome all their lights looked and what a good job they were doing. I told them I had admired their tidy camp site each time I had passed it. They had even raked the leaves off the trail for a ways on both sides of the aid station. I talked to them a bit about their scouting journeys and told them I had two sons who were Eagle Scouts. They were a good group of boys.
It felt way too good to sit on that rock, but I knew it was time to get up and head back. The finish line was waiting for me. I traveled once again in my little bubble of daylight and tried not to think too far beyond what I could see. Time seemed suspended as I traveled over unending rocks. My feet still hurt, but my legs were okay, and I willed myself forward at a decent hiking pace with a few steps of jogging thrown in here and there where the terrain allowed.
After what seemed like a lifetime, I reached the Crack and struggled up the narrow opening. Traversing the last mile to reach the road seemed to take an immeasurable expanse of time, but finally, finally, I came to the last steep descent. I edged my way down, broke free from the woods, plodded through the grassy ditch, and then stepped up onto the road. Just a few more minutes and I would be done.
The thing about the road at FlatRock is that is always seems like you are running on a treadmill. You can see the finish area as soon as you get on the road, but run as you might, you never seem to get any closer to it. That has been my perception every time I finish a race on this road. But of course, eventually, you do begin to get closer, and finally you reach the turn onto the gravel road and then cut through the grass and under the arch. Finally.
Hanging from the arch at FlatRock is a rubber hand. You are supposed to give it a hardy slap as you cross the finish line. It’s an old tradition and I heard the story behind it once long ago, but I cannot recall it now. Nevertheless, I slapped the hand with gusto as I crossed the finish line and completed my journey. My time was 38 hours and 28 minutes, way over the official cut off time of 36 hours and certainly nowhere near what I had aimed for—but I had finished. Thank the Lord! I had completed the entire course.
Jeremy walked up to me and placed a heavy, bubble wrapped object into my hands. It was the huge 101-mile finisher’s buckle. “I’m going to give you an unofficial finish,” he told me as I accepted my prize. He told me that he knew the 36-hour cut off would be tight for this race.
“That would be awesome! Thank you!” I told him.
“You are the first person to complete the 101 mile race at FlatRock,” Jeremy told me. That sounded pretty cool!
After drinking my recovery protein drink, eating a taco, and enjoying a Happy Hawk massage, Elizabeth drove me back to our hotel. Surprisingly, none of my chafing burned during my shower (although it looked bad). I also had some impressive blisters on my feet. I put on compression socks and tights and climbed into bed. Unexpected news awaited in the morning.
What was sore the next day? Not surprisingly it was my feet! I didn’t feel any sore muscles, but the balls of my feet were painful and reduced my walk to a hobble. After checking out of the hotel, we drove back to the start/finish area of the race. I wanted to check on Mindy’s progress and perhaps buy a T-shirt. (I had received an awesome hoodie as part of my 101-mile race swag, but wanted the T-shirt as well.)
We learned that Mindy had returned to the start/finish sometime during the night after two 50K out and backs and had dropped to the 101K distance (which was probably a wise choice since she had so recently run Superior 100). At Outlaw races like FlatRock, you are allowed to drop to a shorter distance during the race and receive an unofficial finish (meaning you are not eligible for podium awards). To do this, you have to end your race at the start/finish and declare your intentions to drop down distances. If you decided to quit at an aid station out on the course, you receive a regular old DNF.
“So how many runners are still out on the course?” I asked.
“One,” was the reply.
One? Out of the 7 starters of the 101-mile race (besides me), I learned that four had DNFed, two (including Mindy) had dropped down to the 100K distance, and one was still out on the course.
“He’s due in here pretty soon,” Jeremy said. “Then he has the last out and back to the Boy Scout aid station left.”
We decided to wait around and cheer for this gutsy runner as he came in. It was Chase Hammond, an experienced ultrarunner and race director. It was interesting to see his crew work together to get him in and out quickly. They put an ice pack in the back of his vest and tubes of ice in the front of his vest behind his water bottles. “Hmmm,” I thought. “I’ll have to remember that trick for hot races.” Soon Chase was walking back up the road toward the trail. I wondered if it was as hard for him to face those last 7.2 miles as it was for me.
We headed back to town to find some food and then get on the road toward home. It was nice to have Elizabeth driving. I’m not sure how safe of a driver I would have been that day. The weariness from over 38 hours on the trail continued to hang over me.
Chase finished his race in 31 hours and 49 minutes as the only official finisher of the inaugural FlatRock 101 mile race. I felt surprised and grateful to be the only other runner to complete the course. I was so glad I had not quit.
Being one of only two runners to complete the course put me in the public spotlight to some degree. Jeremy asked if he could post about my finish on Facebook and I agreed. Mile 90 Photography also made a social media post about the two of us who had completed the course.
When I ran Outlaw 100 with an early start in 2021, I felt like I was a bit under the radar. Only a handful of people knew what I was doing and why. But with FlatRock, hundreds of people were made aware of my Friday start and my commitment not to race on Sunday. I was happy for this, not because I wanted people to admire what I had accomplished, but because I hoped some people might think about my desire to glorify Jesus Christ and in turn be curious to learn more about Him themselves.
In spite of finishing past cut off, this race felt like a success to me on many levels. I achieved several “firsts” at FlatRock 101 mile. It was my first 100 without my husband’s presence (sad face). It was my first 100 without pacer (happy face). It was also the first 100 where I did not slip into the dark chasm of being under fueled (ecstatically happy face).
Not only did I stay out of the chasm, I didn’t even teeter on the edge of the cliff. For the first time during a 100-miler, in the later miles I did not begin to feel nauseous when it was almost time to fuel again. For the first time, I did not struggle with getting sick and tired of putting food in my mouth during the second half of the race. Except for a few bumps early in the race (when I was low on electrolytes and perhaps over fueled), when my nutrition alert when off, I didn’t think, “Oh no! Please don’t make me eat again!” I did not feel desperate to cross the finish line so I could stop eating. I was quite pleased to finally have accomplished the goal of adequately fueling a 100 after “only” eleven tries!
Looking back on the race, I feel like I turned a corner in a hard-to-explain way in my ability to run a 100 miles. Staying away from the edge of carb-deficiency made a remarkable difference in how I perceived every part of the race. Enough fuel steadied my mental attitude. The weight of the miles yet to be covered did not press down so heavily upon me. I was simply able to stay in the moment and move ahead.
Adequate fueling removed the sharp edges from the highs and lows of the race physically as well as mentally. For the first time during a 100, I did not suffer a slump in my energy levels or hit a point where my legs felt trashed—only to rebound when I got in more fuel. Consuming enough fuel made every aspect of my race better.
Well, except blistered feet. Unfortunately enough fuel will not prevent blisters (but I’m sure it did help me deal with the pain without feeling unbearably overwhelmed). I don’t consider myself prone to blisters during ultras. The only 100s where I have experienced this painful blistering on the balls of my feet were Outlaw and FlatRock. What do they have in common? Rocks. Lots and lots of rocks.
As I suffered through the last miles of FlatRock, I kept remembering that I was already signed up for Outlaw next February. I did not want to endure foot pain like this again! I vowed that post-race I would begin some serious research on how to protect my feet. (Since different shoes don’t seem to be the answer, I am going to experiment with taping my feet. If any of you have more suggestions, feel free to comment below!)
I know that completing 100-mile races is not going to now be magically easy. I don’t think running 100 miles will ever be easy. When facing a challenge of this magnitude, there will always be struggles, tears, fears, and problems to solve. (And I do need to test my theory that avoiding Rolaids will solve the lower GI issues that slowed me down so much.) Still, I feel this race was the culmination of some major growth on my ultrarunning journey and that some important puzzle pieces have been fitted into place. Hopefully, I won’t have to eat these optimistic words after my next 100-mile journey!
Onward to more growth, more discoveries, more adventure!
“… and this according to the grace of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, to whom be all glory both now and forever. Amen.” (Doctrine and Covenants 17:1c)
Photo Credits:
Photos with the FlatRock race logo are by Mile 90 Photography (https://www.mile90.com/)
Indicated photos by EM Photography (my daughter Elizabeth!) (https://elizabethmartinko.smugmug.com/)
Hundred 4 Owl Hollow 