I first met
Sean “Run Bum” Blanton last summer before a race around the Eiger in
Switzerland. We talked for awhile as we
ran the first few miles of one of the toughest races I’d ever run, and he kept
telling me about a race he puts on in the mountains of northern Georgia called
the Georgia Death Race. Any race that
takes places in the mountains has the word death in it is right up my
alley. Once I found out the race would
fall during my Spring Break, I knew I had to sign up. As an added bonus, my good friend from high
school lives in Atlanta, and he and his wife agreed to pace me the last 23
miles. My training leading up to the
race had been decent, with my focus being on getting in as many hills as
possible. I haven’t been that excited
about a race in a long time. I couldn’t
wait to get to Georgia.
(Finisher From Last Year's Race)
I flew into
Memphis the week of the race to visit family and then drove to Atlanta on
Thursday to stay with a good friend from high school (Doug) and his wife
(Rebecca). If you ask my mom or Doug’s
mom, he’s the one who got me into running long distances (not completely true),
and he gets blamed for some of my adventures.
It was great to catch up with Doug and Rebecca and get a decent night’s
sleep before making the 2 hour drive north to the race start in
Blairsville. On the way up, I stopped at
Amicalola Falls State Park (where the race would finish) to see the impressive
sights and get an idea of what lay in store for me on Saturday. After dropping my gear off and checking into
my hotel room in Blairsville, I hiked up Brasstown Bald, the highest peak in GA
at just over 4700’. The views were
spectacular, and I sat on a picnic bench and popped a beer to savor the
moment. I then headed over for the
mandatory gear check and race briefing.
As per Forest Service regulations, the RD was making us carry a thermal
top, gloves, headlamp, emergency blanket, whistle, hat, and weather proof
jacket AT ALL TIMES. It turns out that I
would only use my gloves (for a couple hours) and headlamp, but I carried
everything with me for 68 miles. The
theme I sensed during the race briefing was that the word of the day would be
“ish”, as in the race is anywhere from 60ish to 68ish miles long. The finish banner advertised a 60 mile race,
but our race bib had 68 miles printed on it.
After the briefing I went to dinner with fellow San Antonio runner John
Sharp and his friend Gina, as well as Mike from Virginia. After sampling the local trout and sweet
potato fries, I made a few last-minute preparations and crawled into bed for a
few hours of restless sleep.
(My New Buddies Collins and Cooper)
(Highest Point In Georgia)
(Typical Northern GA Terrain)
The 3AM
alarm came all too quickly, but I tend to sleep restlessly the night before a
race anyway. Mike and I gathered our
gear and made the 20 minute drive over to Vogel State Park, where the race
would begin at 5AM(ish). It was a cool,
crisp morning, but the forecast called for the rain to hold off until late
Saturday evening, giving us extra incentive to run fast. A full moon illuminated the ridge high above
the start and provided a beautiful backdrop.
I positioned myself in the middle of the pack, and soon after 5AM, we
were on our way up a wide paved road that would lead us out of Vogel and onto
the singletrack where we would spend the next 30+ miles. Having the race start with about a mile of
road allowed me to warm my legs up as I ran the modest incline, but it also
allowed the field to thin out a bit before we hit the trail, making it slightly
less crowded once we did. My goals for
this race were simple – finish. I had no
real time in mind (although I wanted to finish before midnight), and this
wasn’t necessarily a “goal race” for me, as all of my training and effort is
focused on Wasatch. I wanted to keep the
pace easy, run as much as I could, and hope for the best. Sean had told us that if we could manage the
first 38 miles properly, we would make up lots of time on the last (more
runnable) 30(ish). Sounds easy enough,
right? The trail was fairly narrow, full
of fallen leaves that covered up the occasional root or rock. I ran most of the gradual climbs, energized
by the cool morning air. Some flats,
some climbs, and soon we crossed the only water of the day, less than 4 miles
into the race. Sean had warned us that
there was no dry way across, so I jumped right in and enjoyed the cold mountain
creek water. Knowing I would have wet
feet for over 60 miles, I wasn’t excited about what my feet would look like,
but I figured I would just suck it up and deal with it, not wanting to waste any
time changing socks along the way. 8
miles in we hit the first aid station at White Oak Stomp. With the sun still down and only 5 miles to
the next aid, I decided to refill just one of the 2 handheld bottles I was
carrying. My nutrition plan was to drink
a bottle of Carbo Pro/Skratch mix every hour, a plan that had worked in several
previous races. This would give me
roughly 300 calories an hour, and I would throw in a gel or aid station food
along the way if I felt I needed more.
After a quick fill, I was out and headed up the steepest (and worst
according to Sean) climb on the course, Coosa Bald.
Settling
into a nice power hike, I was able to pass a few people on the climb (only to
be passed on the descents, a trend that would continue most of the day). The one thing that stood out most on these
trails was the lack of switchbacks. If
you had 1000’ to climb, it would be straight up the hill, not the twisting,
winding way I was accustomed to ascending in the mountains. This made the climbs tough but the descents
even tougher. The sun was starting to
peek out above the eastern ridges, providing glimpses of the surrounding
mountains. Most of the views were
partially obscured by trees, but you could tell that we were in the heart of
the southern Appalachians. Very
pretty. After hitting the top of Coosa
Bald, we began the Duncan Ridge section of the course, which previous finishers
had warned about. They told of the
relentless nature of this section, how you would climb 500’ – 1000’, only to
drop down an equal amount and repeat the process over and over. Knowing this (and realizing I had nearly 9
miles to the next aid station), I filled 2 bottles with Carbo Pro/Skratch at
the Mulky Gap AS (mile 13). The temps
were still cool, and although I was sweating pretty good, I felt like 2 bottles
would be enough.
(Beautiful Morning)
(Rare Flat Section Early)
The next 7+
miles were just as tough as advertised, as we rolled up and over countless
ridge tops. The terrain underfoot was
nice, but the leaves hid any rocks or roots that might want to grab your foot,
preventing me from really opening up the legs (can I even do that?) on the
descents. I could feel myself applying
the brakes a bit on each drop, knowing my quads would pay for the effort
later. Overall I felt pretty good, but I
still had a long way to go over some rough terrain. At the top of a ridge, a volunteer pointed me
to the right and let me know I had a 1000’ descent over 1.5 miles and that I
would head back up this same trail after reaching the aid station. It was a quad-crushing descent, but I enjoyed
seeing other runners headed the other way, even though most of them looked like
they weren’t enjoying the climb back out.
I saw Sharpie headed up and figured he was a mile or two ahead of
me. After surviving the ride downhill, I
arrived at Skeenah Gap AS (mile 21.5) and saw Sean there greeting runners. As volunteers filled my bottles, Sean asked
how I was enjoying the course. “This is
my kind of stupid fun” was my response. While struggling to pour my Carbo Pro/Skratch
mix into a bottle, I did learn an eat new trick (at least it was new for
me). Instead of opening the baggie from the
top and pouring the contents in, I found that it was much easier to bite off a
corner of the bag and dump it. Way
faster and less messy. I grabbed my
bottles and started the climb back out.
(Climbing On Duncan Ridge)
(Race Director Sean "Run Bum" Blanton)
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