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.
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 26th 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.