2023 Barkley Fall Classic Race Report - this is long. Sorry.
TLDR - I finished the BFC in 12:08. I ran a lot of hills in preparation. I am a gear nerd. The BFC was hilarious in the way that those Japanese game shows with the slippery stairs are hilarious with some mud and thorns thrown in.
Prep - I hired a coach. I have a few 100’s under my belt, but… I am slow. I knew I needed to be faster to make the tight cutoffs of the BFC, so I got help. Enter Brendan Gilpatrick. I looked for someone who had done the race and knew how to help someone get ready. This was a good call.
I live in El Paso, Texas. Its 3800 feet above sea level with a mountain range that goes through the middle of the town that tops out at 6800 feet. I can get all the vert I want running out my door. The trailhead is literally a 5 minute jog up the street. I won’t bore you with details, but Coach incorporated lots of hill work, 1 hour runs with 1k elevation gains 3-4 times a week and a long run capping out with an 18 mile, 3-4k elevation gain run 2 weeks before race day. He also worked in some track workouts for speed which were a surprisingly interesting and enjoyable change of pace. Basically, I topped out at 35 miles a week with 7500 feet of elevation gain in my peak week.
The long run was also a gear check where I wore the same clothes and stuff I planned on running at the BFC. If you are curious, I do not use a race vest. They are hot and I hate them and I have tried them all. They also suffer from the pocket problem where you feel compelled to fill the pocket with stuff even if you dont really need it. I use the Ultimate Direction hydroskin pants, cut them off into shorts, and use 2 UltraSpire 600ml flasks on both hips. Those flasks by the way are the best hard flasks you can buy in my opinion.
I rigged a camelback straw into one which has a magnet attachment I can put anywhere, and the other has Tailwind in it. I also carry a 600ml BeFree water filter thingy in the back pocket with a Patagonia Houdini jacket. Up front I carried my headlamp and spare AAAs, TP kit, drug baggy, runners glide, and lip balm. I didnt trust the Velcro pockets on them so I sewed in big buttons to keep them closed. In the thigh pockets I carried enough Tailwind for the run in one side and thorn proof gloves on the other.
Since I run in the El Paso high desert heat I wore a Columbia PFG button up that had slits cut in the armpit for more ventilation and another in the back. Ventilation is absolutely game changing for those runners who sweat a lot and one of the reasons I hate running in a race vest. The vest simply eliminates any air flow over your chest and back- the hottest and sweatiest part of my body. And if you tighten it so that it doesn't bounce, it constricts the full expansion of your chest. Seriously, who thinks this is a good idea? For this reason I much prefer waist belts and the Ultimate Direction HydroSkins are a perfect solution for me since they are a waist belt and running tight with thigh bags. I hope they make them forever because they can securely hold a surprising amount of kit with minimal bounce away from the “hot zones.”
The Race
I flew into Nashville on Friday, rented a Pacifica mini van and drove to the packet pick up in Wartburg. I got my obligatory picture with Laz and my stuff.
The race map came printed on cloth which was pretty cool since I was worried it would get ruined by sweat and rain. Then I looked at the course and realized what was in store. I am not sure how much liberty I have in this, but that night Laz commented that literally every climb in the course was worse than the one before and this was objectively true. If you plotted the elevation profile of the course you would see this was the case.
They also handed out some cheap imitation military compass, a big whistle, and an bright yellow T-shirt. I hope nobody tried to use that compass. In my experience the cheap ones stick on an azimuth and you go wrong. And it was huge and heavy. Ditto for the whistle. I think my kids will enjoy the T-shirt as long as I cross out a cuss word on it.
I think this highlights an important point that I have seen at races, especially with newer runners. Eric Johnson, a friend of mine and fantastic human, once said “people carry their fear with them.” That was in regard to people preparing for the winter ultradistance races where gear is a matter of life and death. I think this is one of the ways that Laz messes with people and gets them to wear themselves out carrying too much stuff. When I looked around at the huge packs on people's backs, knowing they would have to carry them up and down huge elevation gains and losses, I knew they were in trouble. I ran with a good dude who was seriously carrying 7 liters of water. This was a race with aide stations 5-8 miles apart. Yeah, there were some climbs, but that's not that far really. You will wear yourself out schlepping 15-20 pounds of stuff everywhere. I say on a race like this with a low risk getting lost in the daytime to travel light. They should think like ultralight backpackers do when considering gear options. They think in terms of GRAMS. That's just my opinion though, and its easy to say in hindsight.
After packet pick up I went to Walmart to buy a cheap watch, something I should have done beforehand but didn't. I set that puppy to military time with race start at 0000. That way I always knew where I was in terms of the cutoffs.
The day before the race I saw a Facebook post where someone invited people to stay at their place on Flat Fork Road just outside the park. Sounded good, so I made the arrangements. It was a 4 minute walk to the Start/Finish and these folks were so full of genuine hospitality that it blew my mind. Kim and Brandon (forget their last names) are lovely, lovely people. If I go back I am absolutely staying there again. Heck, these people had me contemplating moving to Tennessee after I retire from the military. Mountain people are my kind of people.
I got up at 615. Dressed and kitted up. Drank some Tailwind and Monster and headed to the start with plenty of time.
I milled around with the other runners until it was time to go and before I knew it, we were off. The first part was hardball road, mildly uphill, and fast if you wanted to go fast. I knew I didn't want to get stuck behind people in a conga so I took a risk and pushed a bit harder than I might have, but it was worth it. My usual race strategy is when the race starts to go to the porta john. No lines and I get to start at the back and work my way up over the 100 miles.
The first section was on relatively mild terrain that permitted easy passing for the most part. This was important because the big climbs were mostly single track that make for sketchy passing and pace-killing conga lines. By the first of the big climbs I had found a pretty consistent pace group and we moved together pretty well for a few miles.
Hitting the first aid station was purely business and it set the tone for the rest of them. Pulling in I drained my flask of Sword or Tailwind. I had that flask in hand for the amazing aid station folks to help fill up. Sword, water, a hearty thanks, and goodbye. No dilly-dallying or anything like that. There simply wasn’t time.
After the first aid station, the call of nature hit hard and I lucked out with a full-on bathroom in the park. I did my business, fixed a hot spot on my right foot, topped off my water, and was off in just a few minutes. Then came Bird Mountain. It set the tone for the rest of the course until Rat Jaw. Climb and descend on fairly reasonable trails, rinse, lather, repeat. The climbs are not out of control, and the descents are runnable. The trails themselves were way nicer than the jagged shoe-destroying terrors in the Franklin Mountains of El Paso.
The Crux
After Look-Out Mountain came the descent down Rat Jaw to the Prison. I was amazed at the height of these briars. There was already a well-defined path down and I realized whoever first made that path had a much different experience than those that followed. It was steep and the footing was bad even when it was dry.
Little did I grasp what would happen in an hour or so when the heavens opened and the rains descended. It was perfectly timed late in the race so that anyone riding tight cutoffs had to either risk a lengthy butt slide into who-knows-what, sacrifice time clinging to whatever would hold you back, or go off into the briars and create a new path. I am certain many of the DNFs happened because of that storm and the slow-going conga descents on Rat Jaw.
Luckily I was at the Prison when it started to rain in force. Going through Brushy Mountain Prison is a cool experience. It kinda felt like being an extra in The Shawshank Redemption. Going through the tunnel was fun, climbing the ladders felt like I was escaping, looking around at the beat-up remnants of this infamous prison was just… amazing. Hard to describe really.
From there we ran to the other power line climbs of Meth Lab and Testicle Spectacle. By now the rain had made the course into a slick clay mess of vines and hilarious bad decisions. I now understand why you need gloves for this course and am happy that I spent money on good gloves. Why? Because I no longer even tried to avoid thorny vines- they became my best friends! I grabbed them and used them like a rock climber uses a rope.
I also picked up a sturdy walking stick. I would drive it into the hillside and step in front of it, using the stick as purchase for my feet while I grabbed vines on the other side and slowly made my way up.
Climbing these slick muddy monsters was easier than descending. I had one uncontrolled slide of probably 20-30 feet. This sobered me up mightily. There are big sharp rocks mixed into those hillsides at random locations. I had to grab desperately at vines to slow my descent, which didn’t work, and I only stopped when I crashed into a wall of briars. Lesson learned. A couple of us grouped together and we cautiously made our way to the turnaround. We repeated our steps and went back to the prison, slip-sliding and slow climbing. Took a long time, but we were comfortably ahead of cut-offs.
Before long we were back at Brushy and heading up Rat Jaw. The runners coming down looked like they had been through the war. I think we all kinda knew that the race was over for them. It was slow going up, basically doing the Mountain Climber exercise for an hour and a half, but it was worse going down. I felt for them and respected them to keep going, though they didn't have much choice. It was a bummer.
On the other hand, I saw some really funny stuff. If there were some way to put a magical swear jar over Rat Jaw during that race I am confident we could pay off the national debt in a year or two. There were face plants into the mud, thorns and vines in the face, hornet stings, butt slides of glory leading to butt cheeks hanging out of torn pants, miserable glasses wearing runners doing all of the above without the benefit of clear vision. It was… gritty, grimy, nasty, sheer determination.
It was Barkley.
After what seemed like an eternity me and this other dude topped out and began a rather pleasant descent to the road and to the finish. There was a detour through a river where I took a chance to rinse off the accumulated mud and debris. Felt great. There I discovered that I had torn a hole in my back pocket and found that my beloved Houdini jacket had… disappeared (get it). Oh well, it was off to the finish and a steak sandwich.
Sitting around telling stories was great fun tempered by the fact that many of our fellow diners didn't finish the race. But good stories are good stories and many a laugh was had as fellow Rat Jaw survivors straggled in with muddy but happy faces and tales to tell. Due to my little bath and loss of jacket though, I started to shiver and decided that I had better get on some dry clothes so I made my way back to the campsite.
I slept the night at Kim and Brandons again and then left to Nashville where I am sitting in a comfortable hotel room waiting for my flight back to El Paso and family tomorrow. I know this has been long, but it was fun to write. Maybe you will have gained something useful from it. What an amazing experience.
See you next year! (Maybe)
(Side note from Christine: I came downstairs to see this cute scene. Since his dad wasn't home, Brendan was looking up how to tie his tie correctly. )
