A Big Farewell

USA! (PC: No clue ... someone who wont mind)

 

53 hours into Big's, I was feeling amazing. I was back on the trail, enjoying the hell out of Laz's backyard, as always. A few hours earlier, I realized I had run my 100th daytime loop at Big's. I was on top of the world. I'd had zero sleep, but I just knew I could get to at least 72 hours, no problem. And after that, just survive each hour until I couldn't do it anymore. Piece of cake!

 

Slap-happy first Yard. (PC: someone)

 

 

But then, my bad achilles started to ache. The next lap, it was bad enough to noticeably slow me down. The lap after that, I was hobbling to avoid the sharp pain that occurred any time my achilles stretched or contracted -- basically, if I couldn't keep my foot perfectly perpendicular to my lower leg at all times, I was in a world of hurt. Starting Lap 56, I knew it was over. I didn't have it in me this year to limp on for 12-24 hours like I'd done in 2021 and 2022. I wasn't willing to cause more extensive damage to my achilles, again. As I hung back behind the rest of Team USA to start the loop, I welled up a bit, finally composing myself before slowly moving through camp to have my Goodbye Loop and finally finish OVER time, rather than quit mid-lap for a Did Not Complete.

 

The moment I cleared sight of camp, dropping into one of my favorite technical stretches of the course, I broke down completely. I let the tears flow. This was it. This was my last lap at Big's. After this, I'd be retired. Moving on to other running priorities, and streamlining my running calendar for a few years so it didn't always feel like I was being pulled in too many directions.

 

Running so hard. (PC: Frank Evans)

 

 

Little parts of my body -- inflamed tissue pressing on my MCL, a partially torn achilles, a strained achilles -- keep preventing me from achieving what I truly believe I am capable of at Big's. If those little 1 square centimeters of space didn't cause a problem, I just know I've got the fitness, the mental fortitude, and the ability to overcome sleep deprivation to get to 100 hours. Maybe not a world record these days, but certainly back up into the echelon of Harvey and Jon. But the last 2 attempts, it hasn't happened. Maybe sometime in the distant future I can give it another go. After all, I've come a long way from my 2021 bow-out at Capital from nearly losing my mind from sleep-deprivation-induced hallucinations. But for now, I am 100% content to say that my 84 Hour Assist in 2021 is enough. I'll always be a part of the story of Big's, a part of the evolution of the backyard world record and the pursuit of probing the limits of human endurance. And for that, I will forever be proud, and grateful.

 

After 30-some minutes of hiking the course, saying my goodbyes to each little turn, and tree, and awkwardly placed rock, I heard folks shouting for me. I approached the observation bridge where crew sometimes come to cheer on runners. Keith was there, letting me know they found an achilles brace in camp, a possible solution, if I could just get back in time.

Keith wondering if he's going to be randomly burping up mango 8 hours from now.

 

Well shit! Some things never change. Another year, another frantic sprint to camp for a final attempt to patch up a broken, failing body. I took off like a banshee, dragging my left leg along for the ride. All it could do was plant in place like a peg leg, as I forced all of my energy into the use of my right quad to drive my body forward. Hobble-sprinting, I made it the 2.1 miles back to camp just after the 3 minute whistles. My crew threw on the brace and handed me a pack filled with enough gear to last me until the night loops began. It was survival time at Big's once again!

 

But as I went down that damned road hill to the "virar", the strain in my achilles stabbed with every flick of my left foot. I might be able to continue on for a few hours, continually degrading my tendon along the way. But the writing was on the wall. Goals would not be achieved. Coming back through camp, without hesitation I turned to the timing tent and handed in my chip to Good Mike, choking up, unable to get the words out of my throat, unable to say 'thank you', unable to say 'sorry'. And yet again, Dobies handed me a beer, I told my little tale, and then I walked off, just another DNF on the day, as Big's went on, with me on the outside looking in.

 

Me and some old hillbilly. (PC: Frank or Sarah, maybe Alyssa Justice, who knows!)

 

 

I always bitch about how much I hate Big's. Mostly though, it's that godforsaken night course. That and the headache of abandoning my family for the better part of a week and trying to convince someone to waste their week waiting on me hand-and-foot. The trail is magical. The format is challenging and full of surprises. I enjoy the logistical challenges and all of the unique punches that get thrown, I even enjoy the momentary stresses of trying to problem solve in 3-10 minute increments. But most of all, I love the camaraderie of the runners and their crew. I love being in camp. I love seeing old teammates and trying to carve out a few minutes throughout the race to chat with new ones. I love seeing folks push and find their limits, cheering them on along the way.

 

Wish I coulda pushed myself to the limit like these awesome dudes.

 

 

I cannot thank Frank and Sarah and Brian and Mario enough for sharing their time with me and helping me to fail to achieve whatever goals I had. Keith was an awesome tent-mate that made for a fun and … interesting … camp experience. I'm still not quite sure how or why Kristin keeps agreeing to let me do stupid stuff like this, as I leave her alone for days at a time to juggle a stressful teaching job and a couple of rambunctious kiddos; she's an amazing partner who never agreed to any of this in our wedding vows!

 

Missouri! (PC: Alyssa Justice, probably)

 

 

For now, I'm moving on. The next 3-ish years will hopefully see me back at Barkley and Western States and the 24 Hour World Championships, and tackling Hardrock for the first time (as they say, "10th time's a charm in the Hardrock Lottery"). There are multi-day FKTs I want to tackle. And, regrettably, I have some asinine ideas about multi-day records that I … ugh … that I … want (vomits in mouth) to have a go at.  … And I may end up going to Little's for a while, just to hang out and casually knock back however many miles the next best person wants to do!

 

After that, who knows! After all, driving back home from Big's, I let slip to my amazing crew chief, Frank, that perhaps my Big's retirement isn't going to be permanent … perhaps I'll try to race my way back in for a team year in, say, 2030 (through Capital, of course) … probably all of the team will be new, and they'll see this rando in his mid-40s stroll in, wondering who the hell this guy is anyways?!

 

Brian trying to decide what to do when he didn't have to fill up one of my bottles

Mario and Sarah overcomplicating the race nutrition plan with "complex", bougie food

Brian, Frank / Heisenberg, Sarah, and others cheering me on, with Tracey admiring my uncharacteristically genuine smile. (PC: someone who wasted their time all weekend at an old hilbilly's house)

 

 

Oh, and as Keith and I were struggling to pack up our ludicrous amount of shit, we think we invented a new form of running to replace Big's for us. It's this idea where a few people drive to a forest or park or wherever to meet up and spend a few days casually running the local trails and hanging out by a fire at night. Less stress, less time away from home, and much less gear to pack and worry over. We're thinking of calling it camping. If I give it a try, I'll have to let everyone know how it works out!

 

So long Big's, it's been real!

 

All of this is required for hobby jogging, hiking, and attempting cat naps.