Longwinded tale of demise
Posted to the Barkley list by Frozen Ed Furtaw on Apr. 21, 2011.

Fellow Barkley Lovers,

This was my 15th Barkley and I took it very seriously.  At my age (63), 
I know that I'm not getting faster as the years go by, and I was 
determined to give this year's Barkley my best effort.  I trained more 
than for any of my previous Barkley attempts, both in mileage and 
climb/descent.  I was at my highest training level in 25 years, trying 
to prove Matt Mahoney's Maxim, that the more one trains for Barkley, 
one gets the same result, but a little later.

I arrived in camp with Gail on Wednesday and spent a couple of 
leisurely days at the campground, meeting and greeting friends old and 
new.  One of the main topics of pre-race speculation was the Raw Dog 
Surprise that laz had hinted at.  I was pretty sure I knew what it was 
going to be: a counterclockwise start.  The one and only previous time 
this had been done was Barkley's first year, 1986.  I was actually 
hoping for this "reverse direction" start, since I had never done a 
counterclockwise loop, and I wanted to see if I could navigate it 
competently.  I had predicted that if we did start in the reverse 
direction, it would throw so many runners off course that half or more 
of the field would not finish loop 1 within the time limit.  I eagerly 
awaited the revelation of the Surprise.

There had also been pre-race hinting by laz that we may have an early 
start.  He reminded us that the race would start one hour after the 
sounding of the conch, and the starting time could be any time Saturday 
morning between 1 AM and noon.  Of course, he has said that for many 
years, so I didn't take the early start hints very seriously.  Shortly 
before I went to my tent to sleep on Friday night, at about 9:30 PM, I 
said to laz : "I want to get 8 hours of sleep.  What time do I need to 
go to bed?"  He gave his characteristically cryptic reply, that I 
recall as "You have already gotten your pre-race sleep."  This made me 
wonder if maybe he really would have an early start.  Before going to 
sleep I carefully read the course directions while lying in my sleeping 
bag, wearing a headlight.  My clothes and gear were pretty much ready 
to go.  I finished reading the directions and turned my headlight off 
at 10:38 PM.

What seemed like two seconds later, I heard the conch blow!  I turned 
on my light and looked at my watch.  Surprise!  It was 12:07 AM!  I 
said to Gail, who had also heard the conch, that "this changes 
everything."  I then fumbled around for a couple of minutes to get 
dressed, and headed out of the tent.  I woke up the others in my 
campsite and proceeded to get ready, eating a light breakfast of nuts 
and black coffee, visiting the bathroom, and finishing loading my pack. 
 Almost everyone seemed to be ready to go by 1:07 when laz lit up, and 
we headed uphill, in the clockwise direction.  So the Raw Dog Surprise 
turned out to be the early start rather than a counterclockwise start.  
This really was a surprise to me!  It also shows that laz is a devious 
trickster, because he had hinted that the Raw Dog Surprise had been in 
the race before, but to the best of my knowledge, there had never 
before been a Barkley start prior to 5 AM.  Maybe next year we will 
start at 1 AM and it will be in the counterclockwise direction.  Or 
maybe noon, counterclockwise.  Who knows?  In any case, the Surprise 
shows just some of the tricks for messing with our minds that laz has 
up his sleeve.  I think that's why he wears that big coat.

If any of you haven't realized it yet, dealing with laz's psychological 
ploys is one of the challenges, frustrations, and pleasures of the 
Barkley.  As laz himself once wrote about the Barkley, it is "to see 
how much you can take."  I was very impressed with how calmly everyone 
dealt with the early start.  On some level, I was panicking in the back 
of my mind to realize that we were starting a race in which one of the 
major difficulties is sleep deprivation, in a state of sleep 
deprivation.  However, there was nothing we could do about it now but 
start hiking up the mountain.

I had a few second delay after passing the yellow gate, because I had 
difficulty reading my watch by headlight to make sure my stop watch and 
altimeter functions were on.  So right from the beginning, the early 
start in the darkness was slowing me down.

All went well for the first couple of hours in the dark.  Then on the 
North Boundary Trail I started noticing that there were stars in the 
sky to our right, but clouds and distant lightning to the left.  Soon 
the lightning was getting closer.  After one flash I started counting 
seconds... one thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, 
BOOM!  That lightning was only about six-tenth of a mile away!  That's 
when all heck broke loose and weird things began to happen.  First was 
a hail storm.  Then we came to a gnarly big blowdown across the trail.  
I climbed and twisted my way through the branches, and as I lifted my 
leg into a contorted position, I got a sudden cramp.  My right inner 
thigh muscle seized up in an agonizing spasm that lasted for several 
seconds.  I screamed in pain.  The cramp subsided and I told the others 
near me to go ahead.  Someone (Sue, I think) reminded me to drink, that 
it was humid.  In retrospect, I think that I didn't drink enough in 
those first few cool hours.  This mistake would have later 
consequences.  The runners I was with at that point, as best I can 
recall, were Kent Moeller, Sue Thompson, Paul Lefelhocz, and Charles 
Raffensperger.  I walked for a few seconds to relax my legs and prevent 
more cramping, when all of a sudden, I heard Abi, who had not been in 
our group, yell "Frozen Ed!"  She was coming toward us on the trail 
from ahead of us.  She said that she had gotten turned around after 
crossing SOB Ditch.  I was baffled and told her that SOB was just ahead 
of us.  We walked a bit and came to the ditch and crossed it and 
continued on the trail with no problems, but we were totally confused 
at how she could have gotten turned around and headed in the wrong 
direction.  It was one of those mysterious Frozen Head Vortex 
phenomena!  Actually, I came to realize how Abi had gotten turned 
around when I was at SOB Ditch on loop 2, in daylight.  Then I could 
see that a new trail by-pass is being built around the lower part of 
SOB Ditch, and Abi had gotten onto the bypass going the wrong way after 
crossing the ditch.  This took her back to the trail on the front side 
of the ditch, heading in the wrong direction.  So at least that Vortex 
mystery was eventually solved... I think.

Back to loop 1.  After crossing SOB, our group scrambled up the steep 
slope to the start of the Coal Ponds, on a surface covered with hail 
pellets and sleet.  At the top of the scree pile, the front of the 
conga line veered right and started heading up the old coal road toward 
Coffin Springs.  From behind, I called out that they were going the 
wrong way, and turned left to traverse the Pond trail.  We continued 
without major incident to the Garden Spot and the first water drop.  I 
noticed at the Garden Spot that my time was nearly half an hour slower 
than last year's time to that book.  I considered this as part of the 
penalty for the early start in the dark.  But that penalty was not yet 
paid in full.

Navigating Stallion Mountain in the dark was an adventure as always, 
but I thought that the group I was in did pretty well, and we got to 
the New River with only a few minor deviations from the proper route.  
However, our time from Garden Spot to the New River was about 1:47, 
whereas last year, I did that section on loop 1 in 1:11.  The net 
result was that it took me exactly one hour longer this year than last 
year to get from the start to the New River on loop 1.  So the early 
start and running in the dark cost me an hour compared to last year's 
start in the daylight.  Despite our relatively slow pace, I had a nice 
feeling of working as a team on that descent, as various runners in our 
group helped find the route down Stallion Mountain.  Once at the river, 
I started looking for the fallen log across the river upstream from the 
powerline crossing of the river, that I had used in the past couple of 
years to get across with dry feet.  Alas, that log was no longer in its 
old location, so after wasting several minutes looking for a good place 
to cross, we just waded into the water and got our feet and shoes good 
and wet.  As we were crossing the Highway just after the river, Dale 
Holdaway joined our group while saying that he had found a log further 
downstream on which he had crossed the river without getting his feet 
wet.  In a few minutes, we were to get our feet both wet and muddy in 
the Precious Jewel Swamp, trying to find the correct tree with the book 
in it.  We then continued up and down and around and down and across 
and up and down and around the rusted drum and up to the Pig Head.  
Then up and along the Prison Mine Trail and soon we were at Rat Jaw, 
where things turned very ugly.

I tried to obey the written directions to stay in the powerline 
clearing, but the briers were so thick that it was nearly impossible to 
move.  "The briers, the briers they claw at my every intending." ( A 
quote from Annelise's song.)  But some runners coming down Rat Jaw as 
my group was starting up pointed out a pretty good trail to the left of 
the clearing that many other runners ahead of us had obviously beaten 
into the ground.  So we followed the beaten path.  The path stayed left 
on the way up until near the cliff that is about 2/3 of the way up, and 
then crossed over to the right and up the crevice in the cliff, and 
then stayed to the right of the clearing until the top.  We got our 
pages and water at the top of Frozen Head and then went back down Rat 
Jaw, pretty much following the path that we had taken up.  I am afraid 
that we have not heard the last of the thorny issue of the Rat Jaw 
Trail.  laz commented on Christian Mauduit's comment on taking the Rat 
Jaw bypass trail.  I suspect this signals the dire consequence that 
next year, LAZ WILL PUT THE POWERLINE CLEARING RULE IN UPPER CASE FONT. 
 So for next year, we should all do more training in running through 
briers.

We got down to the prison and clambered down into the stream at the 
outlet of the tunnel.  It was pretty deep - maybe a foot of water in 
the pool at the end of the tunnel.  We waded straight up the tunnel and 
out the other end, and then climbed up the steep embankment to the left 
after exiting the tunnel.  That short steep climb was one of the most 
difficult climbs of the day.  I kept dislodging rocks from the 
embankment and pulling them down on myself.  I yelled at the runners 
behind me to be careful because the rocks were falling down.  I later 
noticed a bruise on my right knee that I am pretty sure was from one of 
those rocks hitting me as I was climbing out of the stream bed.  We 
finally all got out of the stream and collected our pages.  We then 
headed for the Bad Thing, which for some strange reason at that time 
didn't feel too bad to me.  Kent was a stud on this climb and again on 
Big Hell.  He led our group up both of those huge climbs, and that 
helped me psychologically to keep pushing.  We passed Mike Bur and Bill 
Losey near the top of Big Hell, and then ran the downhill on the 
Chimney Top Trail.  I was feel great at this time.  Kent and I had 
pulled ahead of the rest of the group that we had been with for the 
past several hours, and we soon caught Dale Holdaway who had pulled 
ahead of us on the Testicle Spectacle.  Knowing that Dale had had a 
cold in the days prior to the race, I asked him how he was feeling.  He 
said he felt a little nauseous, but then he started running with us and 
the three of us got to the gate together in about 12:11.  By 
comparison, my time for loop 1 last year was 10:55, so this year's 
first loop was an hour and 16 minutes slower than last year, almost all 
of which I attribute to running in the dark for the first six hours.

I was feeling really good, and methodically went about my pre-planned 
routine in camp.  Gail was a great help, and JB and Alyssa Wildeboer 
came over to lend their support too.  Michiel Panhuysen from the 
Netherlands helped Kent get ready for loop 2.  It was wonderful to have 
everyone helping us runners.  This camaraderie among the Barkley 
runners and crews is really one of the beautiful aspects of this event. 
 As one of the Soviets said twenty years ago about the Barkley: "It 
isn't man against man out there, it is men against that."

My socks were still wet, as was the tape I had put on the soles of my 
feet the day before the race.  So I peeled off the wet tape and 
re-taped my feet and changed to dry socks (two pairs of Injinji Liner 
Toe Socks), which added about 10 to 15 minutes to my time in camp.  I 
also ate soup and fried pork skins, drank coffee, and took a bag of 
potato chips to eat on the trail.  I headed out after about 36 minutes 
in camp, a few minutes behind Dale and a couple minutes ahead of Kent.  
The three of us moved strongly and passed a group of four other runners 
going down to Phillips Creek.  Dale, Kent, and I stayed fairly close 
together until after Jury Ridge, when Kent said that his legs and feet 
were too sore to go much further.  He wanted to turn around and go back 
on the North Boundary Trail, but I told him the best way to get back to 
camp was the Bald Knob cutoff and Quitter's Road.  So he stayed close 
to Dale and I until we bade him farewell at the cutoff.

Dale and I then continued together and made great progress, navigating 
nearly flawlessly down Stallion Mountain in the daylight to the New 
River.  This was an interesting and enjoyable stretch, as a Mormon and 
an agnostic amicably discussed theology and epistemology while running 
down the mountain.  At the New River we took the log across the river 
that Dale had found on loop 2, and crossed without getting our feet 
wet.  At this point I checked the times I had been writing on my 
"Pocket Guide" and pointed out to Dale that our time on loop 2 to the 
New River was two minutes shorter than my time to the same point on 
loop 1.  Our time from Garden Spot to New River was 1:33, and my total 
time from the start of the race to the New River on loop 2 was 18:18, 
compared to about 18:12 last year.  Thus we had virtually re-gained the 
time lost on loop 1 due to starting in the dark.  I was quite surprised 
and happy with our great progress to this point on loop 2.  I also 
noted to Dale, as we crossed the Highway, that this was the point in 
the race where I had quit in each of the previous two years, but I was 
feeling good now and not even thinking about quitting.  After I 
declared this moral victory, we continued up Testicle, down Meth Lab 
Hill, and nailed the book perfectly at Raw Dog Falls shortly after 
dark.  However, it took us a few minutes to find the rusty drum below 
the Highway in the dark, and then we began a slow crawl up the steep 
slope to the Highway, and then up Pig Head Creek to the Prison Mine 
Road.  By the time we started up Rat Jaw, we were both slowing 
considerably, stopping frequently to rest, and starting to say negative 
things about our abilities to keep going and to finish loop 2 before 
the cutoff time.  This was a bad sign.

Our time from the New River to Frozen Head on loop 2 was 2:51, which 
was about 36 minutes longer than on loop 1.  By the time we got to the 
top of Frozen Head, I was feeling not only exhausted, but my right 
inner thigh muscle, where I had experienced the cramping on loop 1, was 
getting very sore.  For several hours I had noticed it getting more 
sore and weak, and several times it felt like it was on the verge of 
cramping again.  But at this point both Dale and I felt committed to 
continuing.  We wanted to finish loop 2 even if we were to do so over 
the time limit.  After replenishing our water at Frozen Head, we 
started down Rat Jaw, just a few seconds apart.  However, I immediately 
noticed that my right leg could barely support my weight going down the 
steep slopes near the top of Rat Jaw.  I sat on a log to rest, and 
hollered to Dale to go ahead without me.  He disappeared into the 
darkness.  I was impressed to learn later that he finished loop 2 about 
eight minutes under the cutoff time, and started loop 3.  Way to go 
Dale!

At this point I believed that I simply could not continue on the loop.  
My leg was too painful and weak to continue at any reasonable pace.  I 
made the sad decision to bail here, remembering the course directions 
that once I got down to the prison, there were only two ways out, and 
that "Both options suck."  So I slowly climbed back up to the road at 
the top of Frozen Head, and began a slow zombie walk down the jeep road 
and South Old Mac Trail, and limped back to the yellow gate.  I arrived 
at 23:17 race time, and was duly tapped out by laz.

So Mahoney's Maxim was again proved true.  At my highest training level 
in many years, I went further in this year's Barkley than in any of my 
last eleven attempts, since 1992.  So I declare success despite my 
failure.  Perhaps even more important than how far I got is the fact 
that I did not experience my major ultrarunning nemesis of recent 
years: foot-sole blisters.  Perhaps even most important, as Gail and I 
were driving away from Frozen Head, we both said that we had more fun 
at Barkley this year than ever.  Therefore, I give great thanks to laz 
and Raw Dog.  You guys gave us another wonderful event of which we will 
savor the memories (and have nightmares) for the rest of our lives.

I also want to thank Sharon Gleman, Mike Potter, and Abi, who were 
there at my finish to help with heating pads, a massage tool, and 
ointment that helped my sore leg heal within just a few days.

I cannot end without expressing my humble awe at the performances of 
all the Fun Run finishers, and especially Brett Maune.  Thank you all 
for the inspiring performances.  This was the fourth straight year that 
we at Frozen Head have witnessed a virtual miracle of human endurance.  
If it weren't for those few who have done this thing, I would have to 
revert to measuring possibility by my own meager limits, and say it is 
impossible.

Frozen Ed