Barkley Fall Classic Race Report - A Tale of Two Wins
Victorious again! Photo credit: Amy Bukszpan
There’s so much to share about my second Barkley Fall Classic (BFC). Consequently, I’m breaking the posts into marathon length, instead of ultramarathon length. Part 1: A Tale of Two Wins will contrast my experiences as a virgin to as a veteran (read more about my 2021 experience here). Part 2: Only Good Turns will explain how my race day mantra came to fruition in more ways than I envisioned.
First and foremost, thank you to every volunteer and a special thank you to race director, Steve Durbin, and his co-conspirator, Lazarus Lake, for creating a wonderful event, the Barkley Fall Classic (BFC) for us mortals to experience Frozen Head State Park and taste the mystique of the Barkley Marathons. I also appreciated every racer (literally all but two people in the entire field) who offered words of encouragement on course as I passed them on the long out-and-back section. Not only that but every single racer selflessly got off the trail so I could pass…even if it meant stepping into briars. In one case there were literally five people head to toe ascending the steepest section of Meth Lab and they let me save precious seconds while clinging for dear life on their foot and handholes! I was so appreciative but as I passed by in race mode, with not an ounce of energy to expend outside of forward propulsion and 100% focus on the task at hand. I hope each of you found the challenge you were seeking and something you didn’t know was in you at the 2022 BFC, even if the result was bittersweet.
BFC Community
Receiving my fate (aka bib pickup with my first eyes on this year’s race course). This was probably the only time at bib pickup I wasn’t chatting someone’s ear off this year!
This year’s race experience was a stark opposite as last year going from an unknown virgin to the defending champ as a veteran. In 2021, I arrived at bib pickup lonely and afraid of my fate the next day. I stepped foot into the park for the first time exhausted from too many COVID-rescheduled races in a tight window followed up to a 13 hour solo drive with the worst sleep in the two days leading into a race of my life. This year I felt like I had VIP treatment. I slept in a climate-controlled home on a comfortable bed instead of the ground in my anything-but soundproof tent. I was chauffeured the entire weekend (aka carpooled), quite the contrast of last year with 100% of the travel stress and logistics to a place I had never been to on my shoulders. I am also grateful for the local hospitality and guided tours on the trails during my scouting visits.
Last year, bib pickup took forever because I needed the volunteer to literally run through the course three times with me as I tried to understand a BFC race map for the first time. This year, every time I turned around I found someone I knew! And when I saw that volunteer standing next to me at the start line this year we chatted (of course) rather than standing in nervous silence before the lighting of the cigarette. Instead of lying alone in my tent with just my thoughts, I talked for hours all-things-BFC on the eve of the race with dozens of other BFC die-hards at pre-race dinner.
On a mission to run down 3rd place to be the first ever woman to podium at BFC! Photo credit: Amy Bukszpan
Training comparison
Honestly, last year I didn’t train for BFC and came more to see if I could take a stab at a win. I wanted to test the waters as the race seemed a bit of a tall tale, but I assure you it is legitimately hard. Especially for the weekend warrior chasing time cutoffs. I felt like I lucked out last year and didn’t fully earn my win at BFC (see my 2021 race report), so I felt like I needed to come back to prove I belonged at the Big Barkley.
My training was spot on this year, despite sometimes pondering the ideal training volume for just a “50K” that would require me to be on my feet as long as a race twice the length with elevation gain equivalent as many 100 milers. The night before this year’s race, several other runners inquired how I trained for this race in Wisconsin. I spent many hours training at Rib Mountain State Park, home of Granite Peak which boasts the highest vertical drop in the Midwest, often from my front door. (I organize a 50k there that has 7000 feet of elevation gain, the IRONBULL Ultra Trail.) I also have a generous neighbor that allows me to do hill repeats on her private property where I can sneak off while my family is still sleeping.
Learning curve
I didn’t just put the physical training into improving, but I knew the course well after running all the park’s trails and studying maps. I also made notes to improve my strategy and packed gear I’ve never used for an ultra that would be helpful for the unique challenges of BFC.
I didn’t bother go to Frozen Head State Park the day before since I knew the course inside-and-out, not pausing to reference the map once during the race. In fact, another racer commented how almost every turn was marked this year. I hadn’t noticed most of the course markings since I knew the course so well..
Course Overview
Compared to 2021, this race course was both two miles shorter and had an extra 1000 feet of downhill! Yet, despite my better fitness, taper, and experience running all the trails multiple times, my time was 16 minutes slower. (Last year I hadn’t stepped foot into Frozen Head State Park until bib pickup. I have since run over 100 miles on the trails since last year’s BFC.)
Let me decode my statement. First it’s a looped course so 1000 feet of downhill means 1000 more feet of uphill. Plus the biggest downhill was through briars so thick that I frequently couldn’t move and sometimes opted to crawl. (BFC is the only time in my last 37 years of life, where crawling is the fastest mode of self-propulsion!) To back it up with more data, it took me over an hour to complete a single mile down Rat Jaw in the lead pack. I climbed back up EIGHT minutes faster solo, even after I stopped twice to save myself from redlining after battling the heat. Then Laz used his wizardry powers to take the five briar bushes I noticed on all of Testicle Spectacle and Meth Lab last year and had them multiply infinitesmally to points they entangled me until I was at a dead stop.
Despite expecting Rat Jaw to be a superhwy clear of briars on the second time from the entire field plowing them down like last year, I was grimacing constantly as my legs were shredded on my second Rat Jaw pass (so much for saving my legs from cellulitis by wearing pants the first time through). The worst was within sight of the fire tower at the top of Rat Jaw when nearly every step was painful. Last year we had a three foot wide super slide where the cable was a lifesaver in several spots. This year I occasionally grabbed the cable but often opted not to since the trampled path weaved too much. I have plenty of times spending the car ride home deburring after adventure races, but this is my first ultra I had to deburr. It was also the first time I’ve had burrs in my hair (and I was wearing a hat, but maybe not so surprising since there were also several burrs inside my hat)!
I also knew what to expect at aid stations. Race reports that I had reviewed prior to my first BFC had conflicting reviews on the aid stations. About the only consistency was expect to have Slim Jims - not exactly my favorite race food. We were informed there would be Sword hydration on course. I hadn’t brought enough Tailwind for my race last year and desperately needed to supplement with Sword 3/4 of the way through. I entered the aid station in the lead yelling “Shark, shark!” Everyone looked at me blankly and it wasn’t until after the race I realized the product was “Sword”, not “Shark.” The aid station volunteers probably thought I was delusional after my second time up Rat Jaw!
The start
After watching Laz light his cigarette, we began our day’s adventure in the twilight. As we yo-yoed up the first climb, it seemed like almost every racer recognized me even in the dimly lit forest. Last year on the first climb I felt invisible, like a nobody. This year, it was humbling having what seemed like dozens of other racers inquiring with me how the Big Barkley went. Each time I had to admit my failure to simply understand the process of applying and hence my reason for returning at BFC.
Assessment on ascending
I felt in general I did a good job ascending efficiently clawing at adequate foot and handholds and not clawing at loose dirt while sliding backwards. Yet, I felt much more exhausted climbing Rat Jaw solo this year. Perhaps dropping the group last year and finding myself as race leader while lapping slower runners gave me jet boosters.
Despite everyone skidding down Gunnysack Hill at the base of Rat Jaw before ascending it, I managed to get up without sliding backwards or getting cliffed out, both of which happened last year. This year, the only spot I lost notable time and energy was following a rut that soon was over six feet my head. As I stood at the wall I groped onto the sides with debris caving onto me. I reassessed and straddled the sidewalls to climb up making a mental note to look further ahead!
Although I felt like I nailed a section enroute to the fire tower (which was my low point in 2021), I felt like I was much further behind the leader with far more racers in front of me (in reality I was in 10th place). Soon did I find out that less runners were in front of me as last year and I would catch the chase pack within minutes descending Rat Jaw and finally swallow up the leader before reaching the bottom of Rat Jaw (and ultimately pass him after Decision Point to get on the podium!).
I didn’t stop for a moment longer coming and going from the aid stations. Photo credit: Amy Bukszpan
Not over until the finish line
Both years, I pushed to the end and am very proud of each year’s race day effort. Both years, I used landmarks to meter out my final reserves at approximately 30 minutes to go (which I knew was not 1 mile to go as the sign advertised) and then again with about 10 minutes to go. This year, I tried to stay relaxed as I noticed a twinge of a potential cramp in the final mile. I didn’t want to let up until I reached the line since I have learned the wrong way that someone can be on your heels without you knowing it and I worked too hard to let the victory slip through my thorn-laden fingers (I have at least a dozen thorns festering that broke through my gloves!)
Golden hour
It appears this year’s BFC had the lowest finisher rate yet (only 29% finished the 50K compared to 42% in 2021). Those that were forced to finish the marathon at Decision Point, still covered a respectable ultra distance of about 50K (whereas I measured the supposed 50K to be 36 miles).
This year, I knew so many faces on course and stayed at the finish line to cheer them on. As we watched the headlamps rounding the final turn to the finish line, we saw 67% the day’s finishers in the final hour (72 of 107). In the final 10 minutes we saw 16 finish, with the triumph escalating as the time crept closer to the 13 hour 20 minutes (which matches the Big Barkley loop cutoff time). The crowd pleaded with runners within earshot and people screamed the seconds left into the darkness. We saw one, then a second headlamp, finishing with seconds to spare. Then two more headlamps emerging from the darkness only to watch the clock hit 13:20:00. Stunned, their faces turned instantly from exertion to disappointment with one runner instantly freezing, feet away from a Croix.
Be sure to read Part 2 of my BFC race report to hear how I averted heat exhaustion on a hot sun filled day…another contrast compared to the 2021 mini-monsoon while slipping and sliding down the mountainsides.
Banner photo: Telling Laz I need to get going at Decision Point to run down 3rd place since no woman has finished better than fourth at BFC and no woman has finished 4 laps at Barkley and I want to change it. Photo credit: Photo credit: Amy Bukszpan
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