the hour before the lighting of the cigarette seemed to fly past.
i am sure it went even faster for those about to embark on a journey thru hell.

watching them gathering at the yellow gate
in preparation for the start,
i was struck by the faces.
some were filled with anticipation,
others with dread.
the expressions would be very different the next time i saw them.
i wondered what was showing on my own face.
because the lighting of the cigarette would bind me to the people at the gate.
once the race began i would be attached to the gate by an invisible tether
until it was certain that no one would be coming in unexpectedly.
at the time the cigarette was lit, my watch read 0:00:00.
for the next two and a half days i would live on race time.

it was a cheerful lot that jogged and walked up the road,
and disappeared around the bend.
i watched them go,
and then hurried to make my last trip to the bath house.
one final shower, and a last visit to a civilized toilet.

about 4 hours into the race, the first rain showers hit.
a steady rain fell, driving all the spectators to shelter.
after about 15 minutes it stopped.
but not for long.
this pattern would go on for many hours.
except the rain periods grew ever longer,
and the respites ever more brief.

04:34 race time.
ryan brazell seems to materialize in the entrance to kowalski manor.
he has a sheepish look on his face.
"i could not find book 1."
he drove 22 hours to get here.
and will go home without even 2 miles to his credit.

the rain continued to come down,
and as the hours passed,
i was faced with the need to do something about the little.
everyone was jammed into the kowalski manor,
and it was indeed a wonderful haven for the humans.
i have indelible memories of wet-weather barkleys under a tarp.
no matter how well hung, rain and wind gradually reduces the size of a tarp refuge.

for little, it was a sea of feet, and hardly any safe space for a puppy.
for a while she was able to take refuge under the table,
but water ran in from the sides,
until there was no dry place for a little to lie down.

to further complicate things,
the little felt obligated to go out into the rain to greet every new arrival.
and people were coming and going continuously.
she was soon soaking wet and shivering.
the only solution i could see was to put her in the van,
to nap away the time until the rain ended.
poor little.
this is her favoirite weekend of the year.
she loves all the people.
she loves to be my constant companion.
but she was glad to hop in the van and curl up on her bed.
i just had to remember to check on her frequently.

07:24 race time.
tetsuro ogata came down quitter's road.
another casualty of poor navigation skills, he had been lost repeatedly,
finally giving it up in the lost world at the bottom of hiram's vertical smile.
after travelling all the way from japan, he would log less than four and a half miles.

07:29 race time.
tim bird came down quitter's road.
tim had gotten in late, off the weight list.
he had not trained as if he would get in.
5,000 feet of elevation change in 4 miles had made him very aware of how undertrained he was.
so he surrendered to the inevitable.
at least he had not come so far.

while we waited and speculated on whether the next runner in would be finishing a loop,
or quitting,
reports started to come back from the fire tower.
60 and rain, with intermittent wind gusts, was pretty miserable in camp.
up top it was 30 degrees colder,
and the high winds were constant.
it would be hard to believe the conditions could be so different only a mile away atop bird mt...

if we were anywhere else.
the runners were making that climate change every half mile to a mile.
it is the frozen head shuffle.
i have done it countless times.
spend a quarter of my time with most of my clothes tied around my waist,
a quarter of the time wearing as many layers as i can put on and still move my arms and legs,
and half the time either putting clothes on or taking them off.

the bitter cold was sending the under-dressed spectators
who had hiked up to the fire tower,
 scurrying for camp in a hurry.

08:02 race time.
Jared Campbell finishes  the first loop.
 he looks unfazed.
well, a little weary, but that is unfazed for the barkley.
after an 18 minute break he heads back out.

09:10 race time.
a big group comes in.
bev and alan, jodi isenor, jamil coury, fegy,
the vets look grim.
the virgins look shocked.
they ran a good pace for finishing the 100.
it was a question of how (and when) they came out of the interloopal period.

coury was out in 19 minutes,
and he looked really strong.
the rest went out together after 27 minutes.
they still looked grim.
but that is one tough band of ultrarunners.

09:46 race time.
antoinette landragin comes in.
she quit at the firetower.
13 miles.
she was too "tired" to go on.

after eva pastalkova came in at 09:49 there would be a steady stream of runners finishing loop 1.
they were the same as the others.
the veterans looked grim.
the virgins looked shocked.

after varying amounts of time spent regrouping,
in ones, twos, and threes,
the resigned looking runners sallied forth onto the course.
a few managed to muster a small wave at the cheers from kowalski manor.
most just slogged on.
there was no dancing or cavorting this time.
even tho they were way under the time limit,
the barkley was no longer a concept.
it was real.
too real.

and the cold rain kept pouring down.

but finishers were not the only ones coming in.
the quitter's roads were getting plenty of traffic as well.

at 10:14 it is frozen ed. he is too cold.
at 10:23 it is hiram rogers. his knee is gone.
they both bailed at the firetower.
13 miles.

at home it might seem strange that most people quit at the same places.
the reason most often given is the presence of a tempting quitter's road.
the greater factor is the abyss.
at these particular junctures runners are given a cruel choice.
take an easy, all downhill route back to camp,
or...

drop off into the abyss,
descending some horrendous hill inro a deep valley,
from which the return to camp would be hours and miles and thousands of feet further away.

11:07 race time.
matt mahoney and cat lawson some in on quitters road.
they have 2 books, or just less than 3.5 miles.
cat has heeded the advice to follow a veteran.
her choice of matt, with his singleminded determination to finish the barkley
without improving his navigation skills might not have been the best.
the virgin barker is well advised to choose their veteran wisely.
both appear, none the less, very happy to be back in camp.

someone comments that the runners must be doing well.
it is nearing dark, and only 8 have quit.
i had to laugh.
"oh no. there are plenty more who have quit. they are still trying to get here to make it official."
looking at the faces, i know that some of the ones continuing have already been beaten mentally.
they are simply going thru the motions,
to get as much as they can.
the barkley hills are relentless,
and things were not going to get better at night.

11:17 race time.
tim dines becomes the 14th runner to complete loop 1.
20 miles.
his left knee is a bloody mess.
in the dim light it is difficult to distinguish between mud and bruising.
the light is plenty adequate to see that it is swollen and lumpy.
it does not resemble a human knee any longer.
he fell, coming down thru the boulder fields on the zip line,
and smashed it on a rock.
that is one of the more dangerous places on the course,
i think we have had so few injuries there because it is plain scary.
i know that i traverse it gingerly, and in fear.

i suspect that tim's patella is fractured.
tim is wrestling with himself.
he is aware that continuing would be stupid.
but he does not want to quit now.

any normal person suffering such an injury,
would have lain there until rescuers could extricate him.
a tough guy might have managed to make his way out to the highway,
and called for help.

tim has completed the zip-line, climbed big hell,
descended chimney top,
then gone up and down rough ridge,
before completing his loop.
his kneecap will turn out to have indeed been fractured.
barkers are not right.

11:19 race time.
noe castanon comes in on quitter's road.
he made it to the garden spot.
just over 7.5 miles.
he is both frustrated and inspired.
for the remainder of the weekend he will watch the race with amazement.
he vows to come back and do the race justice.
he had no idea before he got out there.
and his navigation skills put him thru a grinder.
i make a mental note to watch for great things from noe.
the barkley is just like life.
if (and only if) you blame your failures on yourself,
they can be replaced by success.

12:45 race time.
john hansen and bill lovett come in from a quitter's road.
they are cold and confused.
i never do find out how far they got.

it is now fully dark.
temperatures have dropped to near freezing in camp.
the rain continues to fall.
gusty winds threaten to carry off the kowalski manor,
even with people hanging on to it.
we get out ropes to add additional lashings to trees.
we even tie it to the two large picnic tables inside.
this keeps it from flying away,
but we have to keep pushing it back into place.
we can see where it belongs,
because the tent poles are cutting trenches in the ground as the tent is blown about.
we are feeling pretty sorry for ourselves.

compared to the mountaintops we are having it easy.
45 mile an hour winds are raking the runners on the ridges,
driving sleet and snow.
the temperatures are (at best) in the 20's.
probably colder.
frozen head has some unique features that feed the weather.
there is nothing to the west to block incoming weather.
masses of cold air are hitting the long, north-facing mountains,
and picking up speed as the air is compressed as it pushes up the 2,000 foot faces.
by the time it goes over the top it is blowing many times harder.
many is the time i have taken a break just before crossing the crest of a mountain,
in warm, calm conditions,
while 10 feet over my head a howling wind, 20 degrees colder, waits for me to continue.
other parts of the air mass are funneled up the valleys,
pouring thru the passes at the top, with hurricane force.
in some places, like the garden spot, both types of features converge.
frozen head has one other special attraction.
with the collision of radically different air masses,
even in the strongest winds, thick fog covers the mountains.
visibility has been reduced to a few feet.

maybe in some other place, these would be conditions to call off a race.
this is barkley.
if we did not stand up to this sort of stuff,
we would only have a complete race one year out of five.

12:58 race time.
billy simpson and mike burr come in.
billy doesn't know if he should just cuss me out, or punch me in the face.
he never dreamed it could be like this.
burr is a veteran.
he quickly gathers his supplies and heads back out, 6 minutes before the cutoff.
it is a noble, if futile gesture.

13:03 race time.
jason barringer comes in.
he is finished.

in all, 27 people (out of 41) have made the 20 mile cutoff.
24 of them have continued into the brutal night.
three are still out there somewhere on loop 1.

now the barkley is getting serious.

to be continued

laz