'14 Blue Ridge Relay Recap - Hey Jack!

There comes a time when every runner must answer the question......"What in the f*@k was I thinking?!"  For me that moment came about 10:00 Friday night roughly 7 miles into a 10.5 mile climb up Grandfather Mountain.....

In the days leading up to the Blue Ridge Relay my only concern was not missing the last flight back to NC from CA.  Once I was safely on board and more importantly safely on the ground in NC it was time to get my mind right.  I got home just after 11:00 pm and started to unpack and repack then get some work related items in order for the next day.  When the clock struck 1:00 am and I was still packing I knew I was in for a long weekend!

Our crew met at 8:00 at the regular spot.  There were 10 returning members and 2 BRR newbies all bright eyed and bushy tailed.  Alright not really but the excitement was there and it was time to go to work.  We made the 2.5 hour trip to Grayson Highlands state park in time to watch the 11:00 wave start and prep for our 11:30 start time.  Teams are seeded based on their average 10K pace and we went in as the 18th seed of 160 teams which put us among the last groups to start.

The 11:30 start time grouped us with some of the fastest teams and the parking lot was littered with some pretty serious runners.  As we piled out of our white cargo vans and surveyed the scene it was almost comical -- 130 lb runners in full splits everywhere.......eating bananas, stretching, and running aimlessly.  Our unassuming crew boasted a couple of New Era 59Fifty hats, a handful of 'Murican flag bandanas, an average inseam of about 7, and T.I.'s "Bring em' Out" serving notice that Hey Jack! had arrived.  The first order of business was to go ahead and get the first of many Porta-John visits out of the way.  I'm no stranger to these portable plastic death boxes but considering the first groups went out at 5:30 am these units had been absolutely annihilated by the morning groups.


We lined up with 6 other teams - all higher seeds and all but one running as an ultra team with 6 runners.  Ben Duke had the honors of leading off and was set to run a screaming downhill 4 miles to kick things off.  He proceeded to clock a sub 7 pace and handed to Hank Eimer for leg 2.  


Now I can't exactly explain the motivational tactics Knox has on display but whatever it was, it worked.  Also, I don't know Andy well enough to speculate what he was doing to the inflatable duck but it's safe to say it wasn't natural and constitutes some violation of duck rights.  Conventional wisdom says that a when you're about to log 20+ miles in a series of three consecutive 'races' within a 24 hour period it makes sense to pace yourself in the early going, or leave a little in the tank so to speak.  But once your teammates come barreling down the mountain red faced, out of breath, and looking like they just got out of swimming pool the notion of holding anything back is completely out the window.

The fine folks at Blue Ridge Endurance have rated each leg of the BRR as easy, moderate, hard, very hard, and mountain goat hard which is sort of a blessing and a curse.  Not to mention that 12 hours into the race if a leg isn't hard you're not doing something right.  As we make our way to the transition area for my leg I'm just ready to get on with it.  I meander around the parking lot to get my legs loose, make an attempt in vain at stretching just because I see other people doing it, and decide to visit the plastic box again for good measure.  Finally I hear my call of duty as Hank let out a "Hey Jack!" coming over the mountain which serves two purposes.  It let's the volunteers know our team is getting ready to make the transition to the next runner and more importantly, it means the next runner better be waiting because Hank is about to shut it down.

Running those first legs of the BRR is lonely to say the least.  If you're lucky you might see a runner off in the distance but otherwise it's pretty much open roads and hot sun.  A number of vans pass by as you make your way to the next transition area and the excitement of the event generally helps maintain a race worthy pace.  My first leg was moderate with 5.2 miles that was mostly flat with about a mile and a half climb in the middle.  I went out fast hoping to catch a runner 1/4 mile or so in front of me but at this point these were all quality runners and I knew I wasn't making up that gap.  I clocked a 6:26 pace for my first leg with splits of 5:44, 7:35, 6:35, 6:19, 6:06.  I had no kills [kill = passing another runner] and was glad to have a leg under my belt.  I was now officially sweaty and on my way to being downright nasty by the end of the race.

As I passed the wristband to Knox Tate we were half way through the van 1 rotation and I could finally relax and enjoy the race for a bit.  In the weeks leading up to the race Knox had meticulously grown his race day beard and cultivated a pulp-fiction aura about him that signaled he was all business.  Alright so really he spent weeks grooming himself for one bad@ss selfie to send the team the night before but he nailed it!  Knox, like the rest of us, doesn't fit the competitive runner mold but he can fly and made quick work of his hard 7 miler leaving Michael Banks and Luke Stafford to finish our cycle and meet van 2 in the first exchange zone.

After Knox and Banks killed their runs Luke was on his way to wrap things up with a 'hard' 5.  We were well ahead of last year's pace but it was early and we needed to bank some time because things would get increasingly more difficult as the day went on.  At this point my full attention was on getting something to eat.  Real food is hard to come by along the course since most of it is run through the back roads of Nowheresville.  Soon we would have 3-4 hours of downtime and a rare opportunity for hot food.  So far my daily take had consisted of Clif Bars, almond butter, and almond butter on Clif Bars.  The only thing I knew for sure is that I would be eating soon and Banks made it abundantly clear that we were NOT eating at Subway.

We met up with van 2 at the first exchange zone and spent some time chatting it up with the other guys.  Van 2 included our fearless leader LT, Joe Haines, Eric Meredith, John Mills, Mark Huegerich, and Andy Burchfield.  The thing I really like about our team is that there is very little separation between the top and bottom runners so our vans were very evenly matched.  Once Luke handed off to Eric I couldn't resist calculating our pace through leg 6.  Shortly thereafter I tried to create a little healthy competition by letting LT know that van 1 was passing off a 7:11 pace through 33 miles.  

As we loaded up after a successful first rotation we headed to Boone to get our grub on.  Subway was off the table but apparently everything else was in play.  And then it happened, an executive decision was made to left turn into Chipotle Mexican Grill.  On one hand I was elated - we were back in civilization with a few hours to hang with the guys and I was about to put a hurtin' on my first meal of the day.  On the other hand, I have a knack for knowing in mid-decision when said decision will come with repercussions and this would be no different.  I proceeded to order a chicken burrito with a side of chips and guacamole for the group.  We sat on outside on the patio and I could have seriously spent another hour just sitting there watching the traffic go by. 

As much as we enjoyed this little break in the action we needed to gas up the van and restock the coolers for the long night ahead plus we had a bit of a drive to get to the next transition zone.  Now at this point I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that there will come a reckoning period where I have to answer to my stomach for the digestion process under less than ideal circumstances.  In that moment I found myself staring at a pristine set of restrooms at Chipotle that I simply couldn't ignore.  It's not that I needed to use the bathroom, I just wanted to remind myself what it was like not to have a line of 20 on the other side of the door, have light not controlled by the brightness of my iPhone screen, and have running water.  So yeah, I pretty much just walked in there for a moment of silence.  

Then we dropped $150 at the gas station on fuel, water, and Gatorade and snatched up 10 Chick-Fil-A sandwiches for later.  Fortunately CFA sandwiches have a shelf life of a solid month because of the whole foil sandwich wrapper they have going on. It's like a chicken sandwich incubator that just locks in goodness.  That and knowing by the time we get around to eating these we'll eat just about anything.  By 5:30 we were pulling into the second exchange zone and now it's starting to feel like a race.  We set up shop at the back of a church parking lot and pulled out our sleeping bags to sprawl out.

We strategically parked between two female teams and really......that was pure coincidence.  The crude humor began and would not subside...ever...at least not in van 1.  Then it happened - just like I knew it would.  In one modest acceleration to chase a frisbee my stomach was pissed off and let me know about it.  Fortunately I maintained my wits and moved slowly towards what would be my first of many trips to the plastic box over the next few hours.  Then I heard Banks utter the sweetest words of the day, "Hey man, I brought wet wipes."  What a lifesaver. 
 

The sun was setting on our intermission and on the day.  Soon we would be in thick of it again traversing the NC mountains and coming up Grandfather mountain just before midnight.  We received the text from LT that they were on their way.  And not only were they on their way but they had maintained pace and would be handing off at the 63 mile mark with our 7:11 pace.  How's that for the proverbial middle finger and back 'atcha.  Of course we expected nothing less.  Last year we ran 26 hours 11 minutes at a 7:33 pace which was good enough for 15th place overall.  Our goal was to improve on last year and ideally come in under 26 hours.

Ben kicked things off again with a 'very hard' 9.4 miles through the Blue Ridge Parkway handing off to Hank in Boone.  Hank followed with a hard 6 miles leading to the entrance of Grandfather Mountain where I was to take over for my second leg.  At this point it was dark.....very dark on the parkway and I was feeling a bit queasy which was a combination of  a few things;  

1) I had a 10.5 mile run coming up that was predominately uphill 
2) LT had me arbitrarily estimated at running a 7:15 pace...no pressure there :/
3) My stomach still hated me
4) The thought of running in the dead of night without streetlights on roads without shoulders where bears live was less than exciting at this point and
5) I could really do some damage to our 7:11 pace if I blow up here.  

Another resource we're provided with courtesy of Blue Ridge Endurance which doubles as a blessing and a curse is a map and profile of each leg.  My second leg up Grandfather is below.  Purple represents a 7-8% incline and the greens are 4-7% downhills.  Yellow is flat and make no mistake, when you hit orange it's still up hill and you know it.  And it's worth repeating that anything red sucks.  Purple is just downright nasty - period.  But this is the BRR and that's exactly why we love it.

As I rifled through my bag figuring out what to run in I decide to wear all black so that I would resemble a tall slender bear in case I needed to become one with nature.  It was my second run in the chosen black shorts so they were still a bit damp but at that point they could have practically run on their own.  Apparently I used one of the coolers to drape my shorts across to dry off after my first run so I probably need to apologize for that little party foul.  Sorry about that guys...  

I dawn the reflective vest, strap on the headlamp, update my playlist, strategically place

my green blinky in front, orange in back, and head to the potty for another moment of reckoning.  This particular picture is actually Luke but you get the idea.  Hank's voice again echoes over the mountain - not to be seen but heard.  While most teams crest the hill catching their breath just enough to meekly announce their team number Hank crosses the ridge like a conquering hero proclaiming his affiliation to Hey Jack! as if it was a badge of honor.  And as such it is my turn to reprasent and yes, I spelled that just like I said it.  

For the first time I see runners off in the distance and with 10.5 miles to work with I like my chances to log some kills during this run.  It took miles 1 and 2 just to get loose but I was able to maintain a 7:00 pace through the first 7 miles.  And it's about that point where I reach the moment of wondering why I do this sh*t.  And yes I think if I replace a letter with a symbol it somehow reads as less offensive.  Seven miles into this leg I have 6 kills and won't see another person until the next day.  It's pitch dark outside - no streetlamps, no houselights, no traffic......nothing.  The occasional runner van will pass by to provide some reassurance that I haven't veered off course but otherwise I'm struggling to maintain pace through no mans land.  Those adrenaline filled low 6 minute miles I cranked out just 9 hours ago are catching up with me and my legs are starting to drag.  Holding even a 7:30 pace is decidedly more difficult as I continue up Grandfather and in looking back, coming through the steepest climb at a 7:00 pace was just about stupid.
   
Mile 1:   7:11
Mile 2:   7:43 
Mile 3:   6:58
Mile 4:   6:58
Mile 5:   6:57
Mile 6:   7:17
Mile 7:   6:49
Mile 8:   7:47
Mile 9:   7:56
Mile 10: 7:55
Last 0.5 miles at 6:35 pace

At mile 8 I was over pace (obviously).  Not necessarily as in running slower than I had wanted to but as in I'm just over it and not evening looking at pace again tonight.  Those orange and red bands seem a lot steeper at the end of a run than the beginning and yellow all of a sudden doesn't seem so flat.  I glanced at the distance occasionally and it felt like I was standing still.  In my mind the heavy lifting on this leg was supposed to be over at mile 7 and that's where I was supposed to put the hammer down.  And therein lies the curse of the profile maps because I definitely underestimated the back half of this leg.  There will be no hammering down in my near future.  Even though I had gotten out too fast I wasn't about to blow this.  At about the 9.5 mile mark I knew I was closing in on the exchange zone.  For all of the breathtaking scenery the BRR has to offer the single most awe inspiring view a runner will experience is the bright yellow sign that says 'Exchange Zone'.  That, my friends, means it's time to get rid of the wristband and if you're a member of our team - time to dig down deep and prepare to sound off.  Hey Jack!

What happened next is sort of a blur.  I managed to run the 10.5 up Grandfather at a 7:20 pace and was very happy with it.  I had two legs down, one to go, and was looking forward to a short siesta.  I remember wanting to just sit there, and not move, and knowing that was an awful idea.  Even in my early 30's my body didn't like the idea of starting and stopping then starting again.  In my late 30's the not liking it sort of transitioned into it-ain't-happening.  So while my recovery consisted of roaming around the parking lot taking my sweet time with every step I hear someone say Knox 'only' has 5.5.  Translation:  Knox is about to make quick work of leg 16 so shut the damn door and let's roll.

Knox, Michael, and Luke all ran strong and 106 miles into the BRR we were at 13 hours 1 minute with a pace of 7:23.  We met van 2 at the second transition zone, exchanged pleasantries, and quickly proceeded to the final transition zone to setup camp for the night.

As we arrived at the final exchange zone our van was officially a cesspool on wheels.  It wreaked of sweat drenched clothes, 15+ pair of smelly running shoes, 6 uneaten chicken sandwiches, and one rogue muffin that just seemed to be everywhere.  The only saving grace was that there were no female runners on our team because over the past few years we have determined that sweaty non-showered women runners smell distinctively worse than sweaty non-showered men.  Sorry ladies, I'm just kidding (but not really)

We setup camp on the backside of a shed behind a fire department knowing that if we were lucky we might get 2-3 hours sleep.  Just enough of a cat nap to regroup for the third and final leg.  I'm really not much of a camper so sleeping on the ground with a bunch of insects is generally not my thing but oddly enough with a total of 12 hours sleep in the past 3 nights the family of spiders above us didn't phase me.  Sleeping conditions are less than ideal by any measure with a steady melody of slamming Porta-John doors and a constant flow of cargo van headlights but at this point rest is rest and you take what you can get.  My stomach was still a little grumpy and I didn't have much of an appetite but I felt like I needed some nourishment since I was 4 hours away from a 'hard' 9 miles in what would be my final leg.  I took a bite of a chicken sandwich, thought better of it, then opted for a Clif Bar and some almond butter.  Shortly thereafter I was out like a light.

A couple hours into my slumber I heard the rustling of sleeping bags and the words I went to sleep dreading, "They just called, LT is on his way."  I laid there for a moment anticipating what it was going to feel like to stand up.  No sense in delaying the inevitable so I sprung to my feet and miraculously I felt like a champ.  My legs weren't nearly as sore as I expected them to be and my heel wasn't nagging me anymore than unusual.  As I loaded my stuff into the van there was no denying that another trip to the plastic potty was in order.  By now this had become a fairly painful process and as I gingerly made my way to gather my essentials Banks came up big again, "Hey man, I've got Aquaphor too."  He really saved my a$$ this weekend - literally.

Van 2 completed the second cycle and they were absolutely killing it but they also had some monster runs coming up in their final legs to the finish.  Ben and Hank got things cranked up with two more great runs.  Something about seeing a guy finish his last leg and transition to spectator / cheerleader mode just makes you want to put that last run in the rearview.  However sometime between waking up feeling like a million bucks and getting ready to run my last leg I started feeling rather lethargic.  I'm used to running in the heat, and running on tired legs, but running at 5:00 am?  Easy trigger.  I opted for a pair of fresh shorts this time and decided to rock the hometown Fleet Feet Hickory singlet since we were one of two Hickory teams with the Hickory Knuts being the other.  

Once again I made an attempt in vain to loosen up and decided that was just too demoralizing.  I decided a seat in the van and a few spoons of almond butter was a much better use of my pre-race time.  With the finish only 60 miles away and the sunrise a couple hours out we were poised to start clipping other runners.  I strapped on the required night running gear and headed to the transition area.  After a few minutes I start to get antsy and my Diet Pepsi was sneaking up on me.  I don't drink coffee so don't judge me for my Diet Pepsi habit.  Fortunately, I'm a guy and these issues are easily and discreetly resolved near the closest tree or shrubbery.  Plus runners lose any semblance of modesty they might ordinarily have when surrounded by other runners so it's just what we do.

Nearly every runner on our team has a distinctively recognizable running style or gait.  Hank is no different with his long torso and longer stride that creates a hip swinging motion that would make any runway model proud.  Fresh out of the bushes I hear my queue right on time, Hey Jack!, and here comes Hank sashaying over the mountains.......and I'm off.  Red blinky lights are lined up to the point that I feel like I'm in a blade runner in Tron.  I pass several runners exchanging encouraging words with nearly every runner along the way.  At this point we're catching some quality runners that are starting to struggle a bit.  If you're not used to running on tired legs or not accustomed to hills day 2 is not fun.  Even if you're well prepared day 2 is not what I would consider 'fun'.  And trust me, I fall in the category of struggling runner at this point.

I started out fast (that's a shocker) and was unable to resist chasing the runners in sight.  This leg was not nearly as difficult as my prior leg but having having those miles on my legs combined with the whopping 15 hours sleep in 4 days made this feel a lot more difficult than it should have been.  I started with a 0.5 climb, then a nice 2 miles downhill, and finished with a subtle but steady climb for the remaining 6.5 miles.

I had run well through 6 miles logging my first 3 at a 6:27 pace but they were predominately downhill.  The next 3 miles I ran around a 7:15 pace but by now my legs were garbage and I was just trying to hang on.  My strategy (for lack of a better word) consisted of focusing on the blinky light in front of me, pass it, and don't let them catch me.  With no one in front of me and still running in complete darkness I was just hoping that I was on course.  I came to a fork in the road and followed the white runner van because this late in the race we're all going to the same place, right?  Then I see the van stop, turn around, and drive towards me.  Apparently they missed the turn and I followed suit.  The turn was marked but I followed the van because I'm an idiot.  A tired non-thinking idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.  Beautiful, as if we had time to spare I decided to tack on another 0.4 to what was supposed to be a 9.0 mile run.

Let me just say that missing a turn in a vehicle is a nuisance, missing one on foot when you're already fatigued and counting down the miles until it's over just completely blows.  The effort required to simply stop and change direction at that point made me want to punch myself.  I finally made my way back on course and held on.  Barely.  I had been looking for the holy grail of BRR signs [Runner Exchange] about 0.5 miles out but this time I knew I needed to get the full 9.0 in before I got too excited.  As I slogged through the final miles one thing was certain - in those final moments I wanted to see Knox more than any other individual on the face of the Earth.  That and I was prepared to lay down on whatever surface the transition area had to offer.  Grass, concrete, dirt, mud, rocks, whatever...I really didn't care.

And there it was - Runner Exchange - my end was near!  I don't even remember the exchange with Knox, in fact I don't really remember any of them.  But I do remember laying in the grass not wanting to move and relieved by the fact that I was done.  Literally and figuratively.  After logging 14 kills at a pace of 7:12 my third leg the '14 BRR was in the books and as Hank put it, "we're gonna straight marinate from here."  Actually if you take my running time divided by the leg distance of 9.0 as opposed to the 9.4 I actually ran it pushed my effective pace to 7:32 which is what really mattered.  Ben graciously brought me a bottle of water and walked along side while I waddled back to the van as we bonded over having all 3 legs behind us.
Mile 1:  6:12
Mile 2:  6:19
Mile 3:  6:50
Mile 4:  7:07
Mile 5:  7:17
Mile 6:  7:25
Mile 7:  7:51
Mile 8:  7:54
Mile 9:  7:48
Last 0.5 miles at 7:00 pace 

With Banks in the hole Hank and Ben decided to catch another cat nap.  Hank woke up surprisingly chipper proclaiming he felt great and was ready to run it back.  While I was struggling to get in and out of the van it seemed that at any moment Hank might burst into a James Brown rendition of 'I Feel Good'.  I was hoping this was a delusional state similar to what I had experienced after waking up prior to my final leg when I was ready to set the world on fire.  Fortunately reality soon set in and Hank's euphoria was tempered by the reality that his legs were, in his words, destroyed. 

After Luke brought it home van 1 was officially off the clock.  We were still on pace to run slightly better than last year but van 2 had their work cutout for them.  Of their remaining 6 legs they had 1 hard, 2 very hard, and 2 mountain goats coming up.  Van 1 on the other hand had 1 pancake breakfast waiting followed by a refreshing cold water soak in a nearby stream not to mention the pleasure of watching other runners struggle through the final stages of the BRR.  Life was good.

The first order of business was to obliterate some pancakes.  A local church in Pensacola (NC) offers a pancake breakfast at the base of one of the mountain goat legs.  Having never run in van 1 before I had never been able to take advantage of this but it was a new day.  I rolled up in there with my $5 and promptly turned it into a stack of pancakes and headed back to the van to grub but not before drowning them in syrup.  Bad idea.  I knew about half way through my stack that things weren't going to end well but I'm stubborn and not a quitter.  I wasn't hungry to begin with but couldn't turn down food.  I didn't have to run again so I told myself it didn't matter and I 'deserved' it.  Famous last words.

I made my way down to the start of the first mountain goat and knew it was only a matter of time before something catastrophic happened.  My stomach dealt with Chipotle (albeit unwillingly) but not this time.  I surveyed the scene and had to make a quick decision - do I dart across the street and vomit in the woods or should I spare my fellow runners the indecency and make a break for the plastic boxes that I had become so familiar with.  I opted for the Porta-Potty but if I had it to do over again I would have thrown up on center stage in front of every participant in the BRR before doubling over in the plastic box again.  Words just can't describe the events that unfolded Saturday morning but it ended violently.  It's safe to say that from now on I will show my stomach a little more respect.

Meanwhile, back on the course, Eric was putting in work on the 6.5 mile mountain goat which is a 1,400 foot climb with no relief.  I've run it before and having been assigned this leg a few years ago it's either a sign that your teammates think very highly of you or they hate you.  And the jury is still out on that.  Eric made it look almost easy as he whipped through the switchbacks and handed off to Joe for a very hard 9.5 miles downhill which has got to be painful as a third leg.
  
Joe is a burner so we were expecting a fast time and he didn't disappoint.  This late in the race both vans were traveling together and we were only 20 miles from the finish.  A number of runners were coming in at a nice clip when I see Joe and his long legs just chewing up pavement at a blistering pace.  He finished fairly unceremoniously and promptly ended up on the ground.  As I walked over I first noticed the drool extending from his lip to the ground.  Then I found it odd that he was trying to drink water but seemingly couldn't find his mouth.  And finally, I realized he couldn't talk and his bottom lip was swollen.  Not just swollen but almost cartoon-like as if he had been hit in the face with a frying pan.  

Apparently about 4 miles into his run a wasp decided to plant one on the inside of Joe's lip and it looked every bit as bad as it sounds.  The picture really doesn't do it justice either.  Fortunately we had two physicians on our team so if you're going to get stung in the mouth this is a good team to have with you.  Several teams offered assistance including Benadryl, ice, and other 'stuff' so knowing he was in good hands I felt that it was appropriate to begin taking pictures and find out just how much damage that damn bee had done to our time.

I'm still amazed but somehow Joe clocked a 6:30 pace despite running 6 miles with a fat lip and no feeling in his mouth.  Last year he wasn't quite 100% healthy and this year he obviously came ready to run through brick walls.  And he did.

Andy followed suit with the final mountain goat leg.  I've had the pleasure (?) of running this one too and it's affectionately referred to as the nipple.  The profile of Eric's mountain goat is on the top, Andy's mountain goat is on the bottom.  And I'm still not sure why it's referred to as the nipple (note sarcasm).

The nipple includes sections of the climb equal to a 13% grade and a stretch of the downhill at 13% - neither of which are fun.  Andy took it all in stride, running solid all the way up, then opening it up on the way down before handing off to Mark for leg 34 of 36.  We appeared to be headed towards a finish slightly better than last year but at this point we're really targeting a finish under 26 hours. 

Mark finished his leg coming up hill to the base of a wicked hill where John was waiting.  Despite looking like he had been run over by a train somewhere along the way Mark unleashed a Hey Jack! for the ages.  John reached out with a smile that was more along the lines of a grimace knowing he had 2 miles of a 10% grade with his name on it while the sun bearing down.  Apparently John is quite the uphill cyclist but he's also got a knack for running hills too.  He logged at least 3 kills right out of the gate and just kept rolling.

By now the stage was set.  LT had 6.8 'very hard' miles to the finish in Asheville and nobody was more deserving of closing it out.  He's our captain and the heartbeat of this team of grown men that just refuse to grow up.  After 25 hours and 100 miles it was simple - we started at 11:30 am and needed to finish before 1:30 pm to come in under 26 hours.  A finish before 1:41 would ensure that we came in better than last year. 

We made our way to Asheville and after highly questionable parking job make the short stroll to the finish area.  Soon LT would be making the turn and we would bring it home as a group.  He came around the corner in full stride, pouring everything he had left into crossing the finish in 25:59:55 and for a 7:28 pace over the 208 miles.  We ended up 17th overall and 6th in the open division.

After a few celebratory high fives we took a few pictures then slowly made our way back to the vans.  Like very slowly.  We were exhausted, hungry, and our legs were shot but for me the end of the BRR is always bitter sweet.  On one hand I just wanted to crash.  I had been away from home for the better part of a week and was just totally beaten down.  I wanted to be in my house and in my bed - end of story.  But I also knew that it didn't get much better than this.  

I love running.  I love competing and hearing my name called, coming home with some token of achievement, and chasing personal bests.  But frankly all of that pales in comparison to running with a team - especially this team.  I didn't get to experience this in high school or college but there's something far more motivating when you're running with and for guys that you know are giving it all they have.  Of course we're just a bunch of regular middle aged guys that just happened to be extremely competitive.  We all have families, kids, and careers and we're not strangers to fast food or cold beer and as long as we can eat Mexican on our way to running 208 miles then that's just what we'll do.  So for 25 hours and 59 minutes we laid it all out there and loved every minute of it.

Congratulations to all that ran this year and again, I highly recommend this race for runners of all levels.  Congrats to Asheville Running Collective for the overall win followed by Charlotte Running Club and Knoxville Track Club.  You guys are insanely fast.  Congrats to Carolina Godiva Masters from Cary, NC for winning the Masters Division; Greenville Running Company for winning the Ultra Division (beating The Ultra Mohawk from Asheville by 2 minutes) and Strictly Running from Columbia, SC for winning the Mixed Division.

And a special thank you to Blue Ridge Endurance and the many volunteers along the course!  

Until next year...

Hey Jack!