Barkley 2007

I did not plan to write a report on Barkley, but during a slow run
through the woods this morning I composed one in my head and decided
to go ahead and put what I remember of it in writing.  I could call
this anatomy of a failure--why this Barkley run was doomed for failure
(even more than usual) before it started.  
[WARNING--this got longer than intended.]

I was initially optimistic of finishing at least one loop within the
time limit this year.  I ran two course PRs earlier in the year, both
of which were long races I had run a number of times before.  However,
the seeds of my undoing began sprouting early in the form of an upper
respiratory infection in early March.  Exacerbated by allergies, the
symptoms hung on until early April.  That cost me the better part of
three weeks of training.  Ah, at least I would go into Barkley well
rested!    

Just to make things tougher, I also made a few bad pre-race decisions.
My planned clothing was better suited for cooler weather, but I chose
to stick with it anyway as I had little else suitable with me.  My
plan was to wear my two bottle fanny pack, but with expected warmer
weather I switched to my small backpack to more readily carry an extra
water bottle.  Unfortunately, the backpack held my vest close to my
body whereas the fanny pack would have allowed it to hang open letting
the air circulate when it got warm.  (I should have taken the vest off
later, but I did not.  Another bad decision.)  I also chose not to use
my HR monitor, something that has helped me keep my pace slower in the
first half of races and allowed me to finish strong and run very even
splits.  I also decided against taking my trekking pole.  Now, having
inadvertently further stacked the odds against me, time to begin the
run.

I'm fairly familiar with most of the course but am not comfortable on
parts of the NBT.  Thus, my idea was to try to keep up with folks who
know it better than I do.  Alas, I picked the wrong people to keep up
with.  So much for starting slowly.  Then, about 2/3 of the way to
book 1, crossing a drainage with a bit of a drop off, my feet slipped
on wet rock and I came down hard, hitting my right thigh on the edge
of the drop off.  My trekking pole would not have kept me from
falling, but likely would have kept me from going down so hard.  It
hurt!  A lot!  Chip Tuthill was right in front of me when I fell, and
he stopped to check on me.  I was up quickly and moving, but with some
pain.  I now had to push even harder to keep up with people.  That
would take its toll soon enough.  Finally, after being passed by
several people on the NBT, and being alone, I made a brief wrong turn
near Bald Knob that allowed even more folks to get by.  I soon found
myself alone on the one part of the NBT where I was least comfortable.
Still, I made my way to the Garden Spot and Book 2 although my route
was likely not the best as I don't recall the hill being that steep in
the past.  

At the water drop I encountered Steve Durbin, who was taking his time
in the hope that someone would come along who knew the way.  We
proceeded to the book on Stallion Mountain and then on to Fyke's Peak.
Something about the instructions between books 3 and 4 does not click
with me.  We got there, and at least part of the way it appeared
others had also taken the same route, but it obviously was not the
best route.  As we climbed the road to Fyke's Peak I thought to myself
"If this is the wrong mountain we are screwed!"  But it was right,
though we swung around clockwise via the north side of the peak to get
to the book.  

Just as we were pulling our pages, Paul Melzer appeared.  He had made
a wrong turn earlier and was playing catch up.  He asked if we knew
the way down--I was unsure if he was asking for our sake or his, but
responded "Yes" and mentioned following the ridge line.  He bounded
off down the hill and was quickly out of sight.  I would like to have
bounded down too, but by then my injured leg was stiffening up and any
sort of running hurt, even on level ground (of which there is very
little in that area).  Steve and I worked our way down, then over to
the boundary line and on down to the last flat spot (which raises the
question of how one knows it is the last flat spot without going
farther down to see?).  We crossed the river at the same place I
crossed last year, and walked up to the road right across from the
drainage leading up to the power line.  

Upon reaching the power line, we ran into Stu Gleman.  He joined us to
head up Testicle Spectacle.  I told Steve to go on with Stu, as my
legs were tired and my HR was high for the effort.  In retrospect,
dehydration was likely a significant factor by then.  They gradually
pulled ahead.  I got to book 5 with no problems, other than being
slow.  I took the neo butt slide on my butt as my legs were a bit
wobbly, and easily made my way to Raw Dog Falls and book 6.  My water
was gone before reaching the climbing wall.  I refilled my filter
bottle at the creek before starting the climb.  Staying to the right
of the wash, as instructed; it was a struggle since my legs were not
doing well.  The climb took a while.  Once again, I regretted not
having my trekking pole as it could have been driven into the soft
ground somewhat like using an ice axe to climb a glacier.  Eventually,
I got to the top, went on down the next valley and up the drainage to
the road.  

By the time I made the road, my legs were trashed; I was clearly
dehydrated and was down to a half-bottle of water in my filter bottle.
There were tough climbs up Pig Head Creek and Rat Jaw to the next
water drop.  With my injured leg hurting too much to run, even where
running was possible, I knew I did not have enough water (or anything
else) to pull it off.  On top of that I had an adventure race
scheduled for the next weekend, so further trashing myself in what had
become a hopeless cause did not seem like a wise move.  

I sat down to give things some thought--like how much would I pay
someone to drive me back to camp!  I got a ride offer right off, but
the guy was heading the other way and would not be back for an hour  I
had been there maybe 15 minutes when Allan Holtz, Rich Limacher, John
Price, and two other folks dragged themselves up to the road.  After a
brief conversation, all opted to go on except John who decided that he
also had enough fun for the day.  We started walking, with thumbs
extended as vehicles approached, and in a few minutes we were offered
a ride by a couple of young guys and a gal in a pickup truck.  They
were headed for town, but the driver lived right near the turn into
Frozen Head.  They offered us a beer, which we declined; I was hoping
they had not consumed too many themselves.  But the drive was
uneventful and they dropped us at the turn to the park.  We headed up
the road, thumb again out as vehicles drove by.  Several ignored us.
Finally, after maybe a half mile or so, an SUV slowed, then continued
on only to pull off the road 50 yards ahead and we got the wave to
come on.  It turned out to be Jim Nelson's daughter and her roommate.
They recognized us as Barkley participants and kindly gave us a ride
the rest of the way.  (Note:  Catching a ride in the vicinity of two
prisons is not a guarantee.)  We arrived at the campground, dropped
our gear at our respective camps, and headed up to give Laz our
excuses.

Every time I go I learn something about the course and also say never
again.  But, gosh if I had not been sick ahead of time, had not made
some bad decisions before the race even started, had started a bit
slower, and had not fallen and injured my leg--who knows?  I did
finish the adventure race the next weekend, but my leg still hurts and
is still discolored.  At least I can run now without too much
discomfort.  

Next year?  Never again--maybe.  That is a long time off.  

Pete