Oct '25 (edited) • General Discussion
A life-changing recap. Finishing the Arkansas Traveller 100
Team,
This experience was extremely personal for me. I’m going to share more at the end, but suffice it to say that finishing a 100 mile ultra is about 90% mental in my estimation. For as long as I can remember, I have had some demons that have been chasing me and causing me mental anguish. This was the mental test that I needed to vanquish them for good. This is a long post. This is catharsis.
RACE BUILD UP:
I shared previously that my build up for this race was in a word, suspect. My back got obliterated working out a month ago and it significantly limited my prep. Two game changing calls with Jordan and Ryan got me in the right headspace for the race. I realized my limitations and that helped me reframe my race and avoid any self-doubt and fixation (as I am want to do). I was going to do the best I could and that was that. If I came up short, I could always try again. I also got a very deep muscle massage 5 days before, which I highly recommend. All of this put my mind at ease and I slept like a champ the night before, which I greatly needed with all the travel in the weeks before.
THE RACE:
I chose the AT100 for two reasons:
- It fit my race calendar
- It’s known for being extremely well-supported, which was important, as I was running this solo
The course is 16 miles of single-track and then an out and back. It’s hilly (16k) but you wouldn’t classify it as ludicrous mode. However the way the course is laid out makes it more challenging than you might think just by looking at the elevation profile. The way out has more climbing and the downhill is very rocky. There isn’t much time to make up in those downhill sections, but that plays to your advantage on the way back. Secondly, there is almost no flat, you’re working your quads the entire time.
The need for a crew became apparent almost immediately. Despite getting there with 45 mins to spare, I had to park about half a mile away from the start and schlep my gear. The race started with a pig seuy chant, because Arkansas, and we were on our way.
The single track part of the course is mildly technical. I was flowing great through this section but I should have held back a bit on the downhills to protect my core. I took a few missteps and before you knew it, bam, my back issues were back. I tightened up my core as best I could and tried to put it out of mind.
The next issue that presented itself were my feet. I didn’t want to run on old shoes, but I didn’t feel I had much choice. I had tried breaking in two new pairs. I was swimming in one pair and Ryan rightfully dissuaded me from using them. The other pair had caused heel pain, but were a half size bigger of my tried and true model. Ryan smartly suggested I stash them for half way thru the race.
During the single track, I noticed hotspots on the outside of both toes. My soles were also starting to feel tender. If I had to do it again, I would have addressed it right away, but I continued on
Things were generally ok up until mile 30. Back? Not great, but I was holding up. However, at mile 30, my feet started seriously barking at me. I had 28 miles to go before I could switch my shoes up. Yikes.
I had to dig for something positive. Ah! My nutrition. It had never been so on point. The first day hadn’t been too humid, which almost always roils my stomach. I couldn’t waste this, I thought to myself.
At around mile 40, I could no longer speed walk. Something about the jogging was easier on my feet. However, I was getting lapped by nearly everyone it seemed. Then, my lack of core conditioning began to show itself and I was getting pretty locked up. I tried some stretching but it wasn’t helping much. I looked down at my watch and sure enough, 18 min miles on downhills. Not good.
I also made a point throughout the day to try and befriend people. I desperately wanted to find someone to run with at nite, but the drop off in pace meant that I couldn’t keep up with these folks.
My race turned around ironically at an aid station called turnaround (mile 58). My new shoes were waiting for me, but first I had to unmask the damage I had done. I asked for a chair and had several volunteers help me (the support for this race was absolutely incredible and it made me want to volunteer in the future). Off came the socks and an audible gasp for one of the volunteers. I had two quarter sized blood blisters on the outside of both toes, each about half an inch tall. I lanced them and Shelly didn’t hesitate to clean me up and wrap them up for me. I don’t think I could have dressed the wounds myself adequately. It absolutely saved my race. It was a 20 min detour but so worth it.
Back on the course and I could walk again! Yes, the bottom of my feet were still sore, but it was good enough. I started to get a bit of pace back, but I wasn’t catching up to anyone and there weren’t too many folks around. It was dark now and I was curious what the nite would hold.
At around midnight, my throat began to get sore. Yup, it finally happened. All the travel caught up to me and I was sick. At least the race was almost half way thru I told myself. I then began to break out in sweats. Now, I had a fever. Ok then! I have a fever. So what?!
I probably saw a total of 3 people on the trail at nite. Surprisingly, I never felt tired, like I needed to sleep or anything. Despite being congested, I was making decent time. At around mile 80, a new challenge presented itself. I saw that LiveTrack got disabled on my watch. That’s weird, I thought. I opened my phone to text my wife that I was ok. Phone was dead. Then I looked back at my watch and now it was dead too. Fuck! Despite all the difficulties up to this point, this was the first time in my race that I allowed doubt to creep in. I was pretty much right on pace up to this point and now, I was without any of my tools. I wouldn’t even know what time it was!
I talked with Ryan and Jordan before the race about when to pick my battles. While I hadn’t entertained the possibility of dropping up until this point, the race had completely carved me up. It had been one ordeal after the next. A true trial by fire with no end in sight. It had been interminable. For every race I had done up to this point, I had this innate ability to minimize the anguish. To make it seem almost quaint in retrospect. Not this time. I knew this was my one shot of achieving the dream I had set for myself 3 years ago. There was no coming back to this distance for me. The scars would be too deep. The mental tissue could not be calloused over. It was now or never.
I hesitate to use this word, because it seems gratuitous and immodest, but there’s no other way to put it. I chose to become a savage. I had two options: drop or fight. I made my decision and went full on Goggins mode. It was totally primal and wild. Something had awakened that I didn’t know was available to me. I just snapped and gave myself over the goal. Nothing else mattered. I was not going to lose this war, whatever the consequences.
Somewhere around mile 85, dawn came. Was it a cool experience? I really don’t know. I had one last 6 mile uphill to get through and every step required all of my attention. I gave what I thought was everything to get up to the top. Suddenly, I had caught up to most of the people I had befriended before. Just 9 more miles of mostly downhill to go.
As the race drew on, even stopping to pee became an ordeal. Everything would stiffen up with any stoppage at all. I was way over-hydrated and had overdone the electrolytes. At one point, I was peeing every 10 minutes. I’m not being facetious when I say I left about 45 minutes on the clock from peeing. A minute to go each time. 3 or 4 minutes to get loosened up again.
At this point, my body was totally locked up. Despite some good downhill pitch, I’m guessing my pace was about 18 - 19 mins at this point. After the last aid station, I had a decision to make. Stay with this guy I had met and his pacer (and his watch) or push ahead. I pushed ahead. Had I stayed, I would have missed the cutoff. The day’s heat began to weigh on me. It was hotter and more humid today. My stomach began to turn.
I came out of the woods to the last check point. I called out for time and distance. 10:57am / 2.5 miles to go.. Cutoff was 12pm. This was not a done deal yet. And then it seemed as if a red carpet was rolled out for me. Some of the smoothest gravel you could imagine and a perfect downhill pitch. I became unlocked and was able to flow again. I pushed with everything I had for the next 2 miles. When I popped out on the road, I knew exactly where I was. I had turned around the day before here in my car and i knew the battle was over.
Two runners passed me with a few hundred yards left. I didn’t give chase. This wasn’t about place. It was about finishing and I wasn’t about to let myself forget this moment by tracking anyone down. I wanted to be fully aware. The tears began to flow and I became overwhelmed and amazed by what was transpiring. I crossed the line at 29:37. 23 minutes ahead of the 30 hr cutoff.
A PERSONAL JOURNEY
You can’t spell endurance without “endure”. I have endured for countless years an inner dialog that goes something like this:
“You could be so much more. You’ll never reach your potential. You are not enough.”
After a most recent insomnia event 4 years ago, I was given the tools to ignore that voice in head, but I never vanquished it. I’m a very fortunate and lucky person. I have an amazing wife, son and career. It should be enough, it would likely be enough for almost anyone, but I couldn’t shake the voice.
Endurance initially offered me a way to quiet the voice. I was dead tired from my insomnia on the initial trail runs I would do with a buddy of mine, I would trip and fall on seemingly every rock and root. I have the scars to prove it, but I didn’t care. There was something here that I needed to explore. It was calling to me.
Endurance became like a medicine to me. Something that I had to have in my life. It first propped me up, then it inspired me. I started to toy with an idea that seemed utterly preposterous to me. Run 100 miles. Didn’t matter how, didn’t matter when. I had no reason to believe it was obtainable. I’m not a gifted runner, and yet, what if? I looked up the data. Only 10k people in the world finish a 100 miler in a year. By any litmus test, that’s an exceptional club to be a part of.
The day after the race, it hit me. You are enough.
I had set an audacious goal for myself and I had won.
The tears flowed all morning. I cried and cried (and I’m not a crier). I cried for joy. For surviving. For the death of my doubts.
Running 100 miles was my ultimate challenge and the Arkansas Traveller 100 was my shaman. The experience was akin to what people say about Ayahuasca. I feel like something died and something was born in its place.
I feel satisfied. I feel at peace.
I am so grateful. Grateful to all those that have helped me on my journey. And I’m grateful to me. For being who I am and for giving myself this life-changing gift.
I feel forever changed.
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A life-changing recap. Finishing the Arkansas Traveller 100
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