Big’s Backyard Ultra

I’ve had a very hard time gathering my thoughts coherently about what happened down in Bell Buckle last week. I’m sure it wasn’t a dream, because dreams don’t linger so long in the air above your head like this event has with me. When Laz emailed myself and others that there had been some slots available I was stunned. I didn’t even know that getting in was a possibility at this point or that I was even on a waitlist to be honest. I had even forgotten the date of the race. I immediately said I was available to run if needed. Physically that was 100 percent true. My fitness I believe was better than it was before States. Mentally however, I see now that I was nowhere near I where I needed to be to reach my full potential.

Big’s Backyard Ultra was more a curiosity to me rather than a dream race. In my head I thought, if I was given the opportunity to run until I break, how far would I go? On the Monday before the race via an email from UltraSignup, I would get my chance. The rest of the week consisted of a full blown scramble for Mike and I to get the food, camping gear, and travel strategy on the level. It was a whirlwind, but we managed to pack up the Subaru Thursday night and leave NJ en route to Lazarus Lake’s Backyard in Bell Buckle, Tennessee. That alone was a bit of a surreal sentence, and thirteen driving hours later, the mystique of arriving at this legend’s house came to fruition and it was no less surreal.

Mike quickly set up camp like a pro. I was fairly helpless, being there only when he needed someone to hold something. I felt like a son helping his dad. I was okay with this. To have a friend willing to drop everything in his life to come and help me at these races is something I am beyond grateful for and that cannot be overstated. After we/he finished setting up camp Sandra, Laz’s wife, invited us out for pizza. She said a whole group from camp was going to go an we were welcome to join if we wanted. Not ones to be shy we decided to go.

Mr. Merunka’s epic camp.

When we arrived the only two seats left turned out to be the ones directly next to the man himself. In my eyes and many others, Lazarus Lake is a legend. A wizard. Imagine wanting to meet Dumbledore for years only to walk into a restaurant and eat pizza with him like he was a muggle. To listen to Laz speak of history, of his expectations for this race, of his transcontinental journey, was in every word an honor. We stayed until we were the last ones there. I felt like Laz could hold me with his words until time stopped, but alas sleep was needed. I had a race to prepare for. His race.

The morning came quickly and I was filled what could only be described as imposter’s syndrome. I was out of my league in genuine style. So many incredible runners. So many to name that I won’t risk the chance of missing one by naming them all. Laz called us all to the start and spray painted a box around the anxious hoard. He then said a few words, and called out, “Let’s break some bones!” and rang his bell. Off we went onto Laz’s 4.1667 mile hourly joyride. It was the most casual start to a race I have ever been in. Everyone was walking the hills, chatting, catching up with old friends. It was basically a glorified group run. Having been training at off times for the past 8 weeks and not running with anyone, I was very pleased by this and took full advantage to talk to anyone willing to talk back. I had pleasant early morning conversations with Maggie, Courtney, and Johan (who I ran with a little at States, and he remembered me!). The first 4-5 loops felt like this. Just a big ol’ group run. I kept vets of Big’s in eyesight at all times those first couple loops to get the timing down. By the afternoon, I had it down to a science. Start at :41 on the hour. Sign at :00. Open field at :12. Back to sign at :17. Camp at :31. Rinse and repeat. I ran with Maggie and Courtney most of the day. They are super strong and smart runners and I attribute a lot of my success on the whole to mimicking their strategy. Before I move on I must say Laz crafted a beautiful little trail system out there. All wooded single track for the win.

The night loops were very different in feel. They were a little dreamlike. Maybe nightmare-like if you want to put a finer point on it. It’s an out and back on dark country roads. Something I am very accustomed to. Actually, through the day and night loops I couldn’t believe how similar they were to my trails and roads at home. There were times I could almost feel home. The Haunted Woods pop up theme park towards the end of the outbound road section was a nice touch. Hearing teenagers screaming in the woods was ironic to me because I think we were the ones being tortured. It really made the scene though. Soon that place closed for the night and we were left with our own breathing and thoughts. I got very homesick. To be honest, leaving Thursday night was very hard. For whatever reason my kids were beyond consolation. This has never happened before. They were sobbing that I was leaving. Previously when I would leave on these adventures the kids would have a little build up time. This race came out of nowhere and now I was leaving, that is how they felt. I will not forget that sinking feeling when I left them that night and as I ran through the fields of Tennessee I remembered it again vividly…

As the morning grew close my heart and mind started to give in to the thought of finishing at 100 miles. I’m not sure why other than that that was as far as I have gone in past races. I decided to go out on one more trail loop to make it 104. I finished that last loop in 56 minutes. Mike was there as he always was and he told me not to take off the timing anklet yet. I gave him a smile and said something to the affect that I was done. I handed the timing tent guys my chip and they gave me a dog tag. It said on it, “I GAVE MY ALL AT BIG DOG’S BACKYARD ULTRA”. For the next 3 minutes I believed that… until Laz rung that bell and the group was off on the 26^th loop. Without me. Instant regret is a thing folks. All that work. All the effort Mike put in to crew me, which for some of those night loops was nearly like watching a cranky toddler, erased with one split decision. Prior to this Mike had said, “Come on man, one more loop.” My response, “But I already said goodbye to all the trees.” Yes, that is an extremely poor rebuttal.

Bigs taught me more than any other race I have ever run. I have never been in a race without a definitive goal, finish line, or end. As we got into the meat of the race and I didn’t have those things to grab on to, mentally, I broke down. My mind didn’t trust my body that it could push on. It wouldn’t let my body take control and ride shotgun. These are things I will be working on and if I get the good fortune to be standing in that spray-painted box again next October, I will be mentally ready.

I want to thank everyone involved with making this race happen. All the volunteers, timing guys, jeerleaders and of course Laz and his wife Sandra.  I would also like to thank Big for sharing his backyard with us. Next year I will remember you don’t like hats when I meet you. Congrats to all the runners who toed the line again and again and again etc. Hope to see you all next year. To Mike. Dude you had me covered, from getting camping gear together prior to the trip, to taking care of me each and every loop. You are a hero who wears no cape. I couldn’t have gotten this far without your help. Lastly of course to my family, my wife Ellen, and to my children, thank you once again for supporting Daddy and his crazy endeavors. I love you.

S.

My Western Story

June 21, 2018 11:32 am – San Francisco Airport Runway. #1 on the waitlist.

Dude, Call him.

Are you sure?

Dude, he called you, call him back right now.

You’re right.

Typical to when your flight lands and your phone is allowed to be more than a paperweight again, you get the “blow up” moment. All the messages, emails, and notifications come flooding in. I was certainly hoping for a deluge. My thoughts were that possibly, if I got into Western States while I was airborne, my friends and family would cripple my phone with good cheer. I would be in the race and this roller-coaster would be over. That however didn’t happen. My phone stayed defiantly quiet. Bummer. I casually then checked my email and holy crap, there WAS an email from Craig Thornley! It must say I am in! It did not. Instead it read:

Sean,

Can you come to the start area before 9:30 this morning?

Craig

CRAPOLA, it was already 11:30 and I was still hours from Squaw. Then I saw a phone message pop up. It was also from Craig basically saying the same thing. What was going on? I checked the waitlist. Nope still not invited. Something was going on though. I called him back which in itself was kind of amazing. Lord Balls, the man himself, calling some guy from NJ. I felt honored. When we talked he said that, he had another runner who would like to meet me and if I could text him when we get to Squaw so he can arrange the meet up that would be great. I hung up the phone slightly confused but excited, surely I must be in the race if the RD is calling me up on the phone.

April 13, 2017 10:13am – my office.

Our whole department (4 people) were called into the HR office. I knew what was going to happen next. How was I going to stay strong right now? They closed the door behind us and one of the partners was there. I put my arm around Annmarie, because I knew she was going to need it. They started to speak, but I didn’t hear them. I felt Annmarie tense up, then release. Jimmy was dead.

I had known James Harris since I was 16 years old. We were acquaintances mostly at that time. Both of us playing in bands and would occasionally play a show together at someone’s house or a VFW hall. It wasn’t until later in life that we reconnected. I got a job at an insurance company as an assistant to Jimmy. He was a great boss. He always supported you as his own. He was so generous with his time and taught me a ton about the industry. Eventually, I became an underwriter under his direction and I am indebted to him for that. I few years ago I started running. I read somewhere that humans could run 100 miles. That seemed crazy to me and so in typical style I had to try it. Jimmy was one of the first people I told this dream to. Instead of telling me I was off my block and laughing at it, he was totally into it, saying I could do it and that I need to do it. After that he was always asking how my running was going, how races went, was the first to comment on social media about my results when I posted them, and he always liked reading my race reports. I wish very hard right now that he could read this one.

A week or two after Jimmy lost his battle to cancer. A battle he fought brilliantly and with grace, I had a moment. I had many moments after he died, but this one was of clarity. I said out loud to Ellen, “I’m going get into Western States next year.” I don’t know why, but I felt this incredible certainty that Jimmy was going to make it happen somehow. He knew how much that race meant to me and how hard it was to get into. I knew that I would only have a 4% chance in December, but in spite of that, I had a little confidence on lottery day…

On the morning of December 2nd, I went for a little run. The lottery would happen in a few hours. I stopped at an opening in the trees. The sun was shining at me and I felt Jimmy there. This happens to me a lot to this day. I didn’t ask him to get me in, I just talked to him. Told him I missed him, that I loved him, that it wasn’t fair he was gone. Then I opened up my arms and just asked the universe for a little help. That I wanted this (Western States) so bad. I wanted to do it for Jimmy. I breathed in the cold air. I filled my mind with positivity. The sun shone a little brighter on my face. It was now out of my hands.

Later that day I was sitting in an assisted living facility with my mom while she visited her brother, we were playing pool and my mom was housing us both. Then my phone went crazy. I was pulled #34 on the Western States waitlist. Holy crap. I wasn’t in but I at least had a shot. My wife Ellen and I sat down that night. We both agreed that I should just go to Western regardless. Being there even if I didn’t get in would be an awesome experience for me. I would learn and see so much. I booked a room at Squaw on December 30th. I was going and either way it was going to be awesome. Time to start training.

Back to June 21, 2018 6:47pm – 30 minutes out from Squaw Valley

I texted Craig to let him know we were closing in on Squaw. The drive from San Francisco took almost as long as the flight. It was INCREDIBLY frustrating. I was so anxious to get to there for the obvious reasons. My crew, Mike and Nick, kept it light and after we passed through Auburn the traffic surrendered to amazing views of mountain ranges and countryside. Craig texted me back,

“Are you ok if I give your phone number to another runner?”

Of course I was totally ok with that, and after about 10 minutes I received a second text,

“Sean, Paul here, Heading back to Squaw now, can you meet me at the start line at 8pm?”

Paul? Paul who, we immediately went to the entrants list and looked for a Paul. GAH!There were like 8 or 9 of them on the list. We weren’t going to know. My hands were sweating and the butterflies started to frenzy in my guts. Was I getting into Western States? Was this dream going to happen? I could smell it, almost touch it, it felt so close.

May 26, 2018 9:09am – Trexler Nature Preserve #19 on the Waitlist

I spent the previous evening lamenting to Ellen about this run. I was less than excited to run 31 miles on a very exposed trail with 95 degree temps. I wasn’t even signed up for anything!!! I was about to put my body through a grueling 50 mile weekend in the hottest days so far this year for nothing. My first 100 mile week of training… for nothing. Less than a month out to Western and I still had a gut wrenching 19 spots to move on the waitlist. Despite my mood about this run, Ellen knew I was still going to do it. I knew I was still going to do it, and I did it. I just couldn’t give up on the training now. I had worked too hard. I had to be a big boy and get the most out of myself. I chalked it up to the old adage, “what doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger.” I didn’t die, so assume it got me stronger. I have never trained this hard for a race. I felt silly most of the time. From an outsiders perspective I’m sure it looked completely ridiculous. I didn’t even have a back-up plan. It was Western States or bust. Cock-eyed optimism? Maybe. Maybe I just love the process. I get to train like I’m in Western States. Like all those Instagram posts I see. Ian Sharman in multiple layers training for the heat. Kyle Pietari doing crazy uphill treadmill workouts. Kaci Lickteig running in that Nebraska heat. I felt a part of it. I loved it. It’s how I wanted to train. It’s why I even started running. Western had always been the goal. Every goal race I’ve run has been with Western in mind. I needed to stay positive. Jimmy would want it that way. He gave me this opportunity. I couldn’t squander it.

Back to June 21, 2018 8:00pm –  Start line of the Western States 100

Just to stand there at the start line was a dream come true. I could feel the weight of history. The Gordy, the Ann, the Scott, the Ellie, the Tim, the Rob, the Jim. It was a surreal. I was waiting for someone I didn’t even know. I was looking up Escarpment. I could feel movement behind me. I didn’t want to look.

“Sean?”

I turned to see a man holding a gallon of water like you would a child. He had a Hoka shirt on and I knew instantly that it was Paul Terranova. He looked weary. I walked up to shake his hand. We exchanged pleasantries and then he directed me to under the start line arch. He confessed to me that even after a last go of treatment by Don Freeman, he was going to be unable to run in Western States. I could see the pain in his eyes. It broke my heart. He went on to say that he was giving me his spot in the race. That he was happy it was another Jersey boy like himself. He presented me with the gallon of water, cause I was certainly gonna need it, and then he pulled out his pace card. I am no Paul Terranova so the splits did nothing for me, but he asked if I would carry it while I ran. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe what was happening. I just gave him a giant hug. It was all I could think to do. I felt terrible to get my spot this way. I must have said thank you to him and his dear wife Meredith, who was equally as heartbroken, a hundred times. To come this far and not run. I felt such a mix of emotions. I was thrilled to be running my dream race, but at the same time, painfully aware of the sacrifice that had been made to get me in. As we walked away my main dude Mike put his arm around me.

“You’re in man.”

I was in. I also vowed that I would make Paul and his wife proud. That his spot would not be wasted. I was going to run this race now not only for my dear friend James Harris, who had cosmically set this entire journey in motion, but now also for Paul.

Paul’s Pace Card

June 23, 2018 5:00am – Start Line. Squaw Valley.

BANG! OH MY GOD I WAS RUNNING UP ESCARPMENT! I would say that for the first 20miles of the race I swear I thought I was dreaming. I was hiking up Escarpment thinking about all the things I had been through to get here. I thought about my awesome crew, who came in good faith, knowing there was a chance we’d be doing nothing on race day but watching. I thought about my amazing family that was so far away. Their support through the training process was unmatched. I thought about all the things I learned from Paul and his wife when they so graciously visited with my crew and I Friday to give us the all of their experience with this race. I felt like I had an edge with all that knowledge. I was ready for this. I also thought about Jimmy. Often, after a race he would want to hear what I went through. Like a play by play. He’d always marvel at all of the crazy things I’d encounter during these races. One time, after VT 100, he actually teared up. He was just happy I was able to accomplish my goal. He had said that he wanted to be there with me sometimes. When I got to the top of Escarpment I looked back towards Lake Tahoe. The sun once again warmed my face and I felt Jimmy there. It was time to run. I invited him to come with me. He did. I came to a clearing somewhere in the high country and stopped, like Paul had instructed me to do, and took it all in. It was marvelous. I have never seen country like that. As I’m standing there, a hummingbird almost lands on my shoulder. Then it flies to face me, 2 feet away from my face, and just stares at me for 3 seconds and then speeds off. I shrugged my shoulders in comic disbelief. Well of course that would happen. That’s the kind of weekend it had been already. I ran so free, I wasn’t worried about place I just wanted to take it all in. The sights, the sounds, and the smells of this place I’d been dreaming about for so long. I had a mantra going through my head. Something Paul had said to me via text message.

Slow is smooth, smooth is fast…

It was the truth. I glided for all but the last 8 miles of the race (my ankle decided to cankle). As I passed people on Cal Street and they would tell Nick, my pacer, he looks springy! I had never run any race like that. The legs felt fresh. I was just going with the flow. I wish I had a more dramatic story about the actual race but other than a swollen ankle slowing me down at the end, I felt amazing. Everything was clicking. I was meant to be there. Many times during the day I would see these beautiful clearings and I would say, “How was that Jimmy” as if he was really there seeing it with me. I cried numerous times during the run, I once again told him that I loved him, that I missed him, and that I thought it was so unfair he was taken away. This race was my closure. Finally. My closure for the death of my friend. As Nick and I crossed No Hands Bridge all alone in the dark, we reflected on our day. We had so much fun out there. We wanted to go out in style. We hiked or ran up Robie with purpose. At the top, my crew commander Mike and my friend Lea were waiting for us. We hiked the little uphill after the aid station and as soon as it flattened out, we took off. All 4 of us, running through the streets of Auburn in the dark. Following the foot prints. I could hear Tropical John’s voice on the loud speaker. I could see the lights. I was finishing Western States. I was going to run on the Placer High track. I burst into tears. I was overwhelmed by it all. This race had truly been a blessing to me. I crossed the line at 22:55.49. I cried for James. I hugged my crew. It was done. Could we go again?

I don’t understand what I did to deserve the Western States experience I had. I still think I’m dreaming when I think back on the weekend. I have so many people to thank. To Paul and Meredith Terranova, your kindness and generosity are what make this sport so great. I owe so much to you both. To Mike Merunka for crewing me as only he knows how. You are as solid as they come. My pacer Nicholas Mamrack, dude, thank you for keeping me from tripping on rocks and roots when my ankle started messing with my proprioception, and for doing all the math so we got in under 23 hrs. You were instrumental in my success. To Lea, David, and Alison thank you for just being out there. To see so many familiar faces filled my heart. Thank you to Craig Thornley for putting on the greatest race I have ever been involved with. The volunteers at every aid station were damn near professional grade aid station workers. I was taken care of every step of the way because of them. They are the life blood of the race and should be thanked 1000 times over for their contributions. Congratulations to all the other runners who toed the line Saturday, be proud that you had the courage to step up and take on this beast of a race. Thank you to my wife Ellen, and to my children, Rosie, Jude, and Henry. Their support is never ending and their love was felt even when I was far away. I hope that if I ever get a next time at this race I will be able to bring you all with me. Lastly, thank you to James Harris. You showed me how to be a better human. You inspired me to keep reaching for my dreams. I hope wherever you are in the universe, you understand how much that means to me…

Thank you for reading.

S.