RACE REPORT: Dizzy Horse Backyard Ultra 2024, or “Limits”
Welcome to another one of my race reports. A race goes beyond what the results say, and I want to share with you, usually with too much detail, the ins and outs of my race and what I thought about it. Along with telling you how my race went, I also discuss what my training was like up to that point, and my overall thoughts on my performance. Enjoy!
I often wonder how they agreed to the names of certain groups of animals. A flock of seagulls? A school of fish? A pride of lions? A murder of crows?
Have they done one for teenagers yet? Because I have a suggestion that seems loudly fitting, and anyone who has been around these groups can probably attest to.
A cacophony of teenagers.
TL;DR
- Race: Dizzy Horse Backyard Ultra
- Location: Idaho Falls
- Course Description: A 4.167-mile relatively flat loop that snakes around a horse race track and surrounding area
- Result: Called it at 12 hours at 50 miles run
- Strava Link
Storytime!:
Before:
A backyard ultra is a pretty simple concept. Competitors have an hour to run around a 4.167-mile loop. At the top of the hour, they begin another loop, again and again until one person is left standing. The loop distance is that hyperspecific because if you last 24 hours, then you’ve completed 100 miles. When the race begins, nobody actually knows how long the event will take, kinda like Quidditch. At one of these events, a group of crazy Belgians ran 110 of these loops (for those not doing the math, that is 4.5 straight days of running with minimal breaks). It’s a test of willpower, and for a lot of people like me, a safe space to test their limits of how far they can push their body.
The Dizzy Horse Backyard Ultra would be my last race I needed to complete what is required by the Idaho Trail Ultra Series to get recognition and a cool jacket. Having completed the River of No Return 55k in June, Harriman 50k in August, and Sun Valley’s Legends Never Die 55k in October, my year’s worth of training and races and managing injuries would culminate in an effort to complete at least eight “yards” (the colloquial term for laps in this type of event) to count as the fourth ultra marathon of the year and completion of the ITUS, one of my goals for the year.
But this race represented something else: a culmination of the year I had. Training since January. 140+ miles of racing. A Picnic attempt. A general consistency of endurance activity. Since the Dizzy Race format is a run-til-you-drop, this would provide the opportunity to wring out all that was left for my body to give for this season. A final flare to show that I gave it everything I had. Hopefully it would be at least eight yards worth.
That being said, the training leading up wasn’t conducive to trying to win this thing; some shorter runs with a couple-hour long run or two on the weekends, mostly to keep my general fitness levels up. Ironically, due to the lower training load, it was the best I had felt all season physically. My quads were doing much better and my IT bands weren’t giving me a hard time, so that was good!
However, after the Legends Never Die race, I was hitting a lull emotionally. The days were getting darker and colder. It was harder to get out for a run. I had been in training mode since January and was craving a break. The looming task of Dizzy Horse wasn’t enough for me for motivation. I had to sustain at a minimum a 14:20/mile pace to ensure I completed each loop within the hour allotment, a little faster if I wanted a break, but not too fast where my break would be so long that I would get to the next lap incredibly stiff. That pace wasn’t that intimidating for me. I could fake that through eight flat loops of this thing on sheer baseline fitness.
In backyard ultras, there is this concept of “dying in the desert”, which means that you fail to complete a lap in under the allotted hour. This provides the finality that the runner gave everything they had and that it was the race rules that forced them out of the race instead of them assessing their energy level and agency to quit whenever they wanted. Dying in the desert was a coveted symbol that you gave it your all on that day.
That was my plan: to die in the desert. See how long my body can go, maybe surprise myself in realizing how long my body can be active. After completing eight laps, it was all sixes at that point. Could I will myself to 50 miles or even 75? I was dumb enough to find out.
Of course, there were limits. Overuse injuries were always a concern. I don’t think I was currently built to safely go that far. I would hit my distance PR early in Yard 9. I was willing to push through injury to complete eight laps, but hurting myself for the sake of seeing how long I can go before the desert death took ahold of me was not worth it.
Also, what if I really surprised myself and kept going throughout the night and into the next day? I knew that it was lofty but who knows? I did some back calculations of the ITUS standings. The top 6 get special recognition, and I was many points out of contention for it. But what if? I would need to complete 25 yards in order to sneak into that top 6. For those not doing the math at home, that’s 104.167 miles. Lofty. If I really did happen to get to that point, I’d cut off there. There would be nothing else for me to run for. One can daydream.
So my three goals were:
- Finish eight yards
- Die in the desert
- Finish 25 yards
So yes, maybe the third goal was a bit lofty, but hey just maybe we could will ourselves towards it, despite the lack of what I felt was adequate training and a venture into the unknown of what my body was actually capable of. I think it’s good to recognize lofty goals for what they are and not be disappointed if they aren’t realized. Maybe even look back at them and ask yourself, “What were we even thinking, my body being remotely capable of that?!”
But what would break first? My body or my will?
During:
My plan was laid out pretty simply: try to hit between a 12–13 minute per mile pace and see how long I sustain. That would get me through the laps at 50–55 minutes, enough for me to grab a bite to eat, drink, and do any bodily maintenance (bathroom, massage gun, elevate legs, manage chafing, etc.). I felt like going too fast would not only burn me for the later laps, but I could stiffen up during the extended break. 5–10 minutes seemed perfect.
I set up camp inside the building at the Bonneville County Fairgrounds. I was pretty minimalist, with a camp chair and a couple bags of supplies and extra clothes. I set up shop near my friends Tyler, Hannah, and Jonas, as well as close by to other friends Charles, Erin, and Tom, who were much more serious about this event. Their camp included a mini aid station of all the goods. We were also positioned close to a couple friends I knew from the climbing world: Michelle, who was a seasoned ultra runner, and Kendra, who has completed massive days in the mountains and could probably suffer forever. I figured she would do pretty well at something like this. My girlfriend Kiley came to support and hang out, along with our dog Manuka, who wanted so desperately to run with me.
Other groups brought tents and tables with a bunch of goodies on them. One corner accumulated a few representatives from the local high school cross country teams. A group of them came in last year with no expectations and made it to 50 miles. It was very impressive last year. This year there were many more in tow.
As far as people who would compete for the top spot, I was unsure of. Last year’s winner, Jeremy Smith, was only planning to do eight laps and dropping. His assist last year wasn’t running. The champion the year before that was helping out. I didn’t recognize anyone on the start list that made me say “oh yeah I know who that person is, I’m definitely expecting them to compete.” So yeah the race seemed pretty wide open.
10 o’clock was beginning to approach fast. We were all led into the starting corral, 80 of us in total looking to see just how far we could travel on foot before our bodies said “no more.” It had snowed a little bit that morning, but that storm had passed and the temps were hovering just around freezing with some wind involved. I was wearing full-leg tights, a jacket, gloves, a balaclava on my neck, a balaclava on my head, and a hat.
10 am struck and it was go-time.
Yard 1:
I stuck with Tyler and Jonas on this loop. Hannah, Tyler’s wife, was starting out a little ahead. Word came from daycare that their son was sick, so it would unfortunately end one of their days early to tend to that, and Tyler volunteered. This would be his only lap.
Jonas was new to town, having just started at my old place of employment. He had known Tyler and Hannah in a past life and followed them here. He was a little green running this but had a history of endurance athletics. Tyler had done some races, but his involvement is usually heavily influenced by his wife or food. Perfect people to be with!
I also ran a little bit with Ben Burrows, who had run a number of the same races I had this year. We were reminiscing on the lack of water at one of the aid stations at Legends Never Die. He had been a bit behind me at that race and it sounded like he had a much worse time with the lack of water.
The course started out of the corral and then looped back around to the entrance of the horse race track, where we ran around the track clockwise a little bit, then double-backed and ran counter-clockwise around it. Then there was a double back, then around some…actually I’m getting too dizzy thinking about it. The main things with this course was that it was a combo of dirt, uneven grass, asphalt, and sandy little hills, which we walked. The weather was damn-near perfect, a little wind coming from the south but otherwise cloudy and 32 degrees. Can’t ask for better this time of year.
We were running at about an 11:30 pace for this, faster than I would have maybe intended initially, but it did provide insurance for us to walk out the lap in the last quarter mile or so, which we took luxury in as we ended back on the asphalt leading back to the start/finish line. We were about mid-pack. The top of the pack was led by a guy carrying an American flag and they finished around 45 minutes or so. The cross country runners were all behind us a little bit, although they crossed just shortly after we did.
First lap was complete in 49:12. Just over ten minutes to prep for the next lap. I ate a Kind bar to get some calories in me, although I did have access to the deluxe aid station where they had pretty much everything that a trail runner would want to munch on. The usual suspects like bars and gels and soda and pickle juice, then some luxurious fixings like quesadillas and potstickers and meatballs. I would eat well today.
Yard 2:
Tyler had to bow out to grab his son at daycare and figure out his sickness situation. Hannah started out in front again. That left me and Jonas to keep each other company during this lap. I don’t remember much of this lap and honestly the early laps for that matter, which was probably a good thing. Just letting my body move forward with the crowd.
I do remember my right knee hurting a little bit though. Some twinges of IT band tightness that has plagued me all year. I’ll need to grab the massage gun during the break and loosen that up so it doesn’t get any worse.
I also remember the high schoolers. Hard to forget. The way we were all pacing kept us in proximity to one another. Like a cross country team, they ran in groups. And the noise. A peloton of adolescent volume that could rival a group of Harley owners on their way to Sturgis. I’m sure I was also like that as a 17-year-old but I don’t want to think about it.
Annoyance aside, was it a good idea for these kids to be out here? I’m sure my high school coaches would not want me to be doing something like this. They hated the idea of me doing anything above a half marathon. Meanwhile a group of middle-aged men behind us were reminiscing about their days in scouts where they traveled 50 miles on foot with a cart, and how parents these days would not allow little Johnny to put his body through a 10-mile backpacking trip. So yeah, probably a generational thing. It’s a topic up for debate that I would love to hear more perspectives on.
Jonas and I ran the second lap like we did the first: steady 11:30 pace, walked up the sandy uphills, and walked the last third-mile into the finish, putting us around 50 minutes.
This time I had an appetite and I raided the aid station. Potstickers, quesadillas, ginger ale, potatoes. Carbs and calories to keep me going. It was good to eat early and often. I took the massage gun to my knee and it seemed to loosen things up.
The whistle blew and we were summoned back out to the starting corral.
Yard 3:
Yard 3 basically played out the same way that Yard 2 did. Jonas, teenagers, walking, 50 minutes, the group of middle-aged men behind us complaining about the perceived pussification of younger generations. American flag man still in front. Although the differences here were that my hips were starting to give me issues. Like the beginnings of sciatica. I made a mental note that I will need to massage that out. Also I was starting to chafe in the pelvic areas. Not comfy.
But hey, 12 miles down and we’ve been feeling pretty good for the most part. The massage to my lower back was heavenly and the lubrication in my pelvic area helped lessen the friction that was causing some issues down there. Good to go for the next lap.
Yard 4:
This was the yard that we absorbed Hannah, and so now we were a group of three. I also began to notice Jonas’s gait was starting to be a little askew. His ankle was beginning to give him some fits. He assured us he was fine.
This lap carried out the same as the previous ones, except now the middle-aged men shifted to talking about the cons of wind energy. This was going to be Hannah’s PR lap, as the longest race she had done previously was a half marathon. She would get to ring the bell! I was trying to convince her to go a full eight laps to say that she’s completed an ultra marathon. She was easily convinced.
Another 50 minute lap down. Time to chow down on potstickers and pierogis and potatoes and wash it down with ginger ale. My stomach had been doing pretty well so far, and I’m sure the ginger ale was helping the cause. At the very least soda is incredibly calorie-dense.
Something else I noticed was how heavy my legs were feeling. There definitely felt like a massive lactic acid build up for the three hours of slow miles. Some squat jumps were helping loosen them up during the break.
Yard 5:
Hannah had a good idea halfway through this lap. Before we get to that, although it goes without saying: same pace, same weather, generally the same people we’re around, American flag guy, the teens are still loud, etc.
“Let’s stride out for like 20 seconds,” she suggested.
I liked this idea. As I mentioned a couple paragraphs above, my legs were feeling heavy. I had been shaking out my legs on the run a little bit more on this lap. Also we were on asphalt for a stretch, so it was good footing to up our pace for a little bit.
And boy did it feel good! It felt like I was stretching out my legs to increase their capacity. What used to feel incredibly dense was airy. After a minute I went for another stride, finishing at the point where road met trail again.
I turned around and saw Jones back around 100 yards away. He gave the thumbs up. He’d be good to go for the rest of the lap by himself. Hannah and I kept on running.
It is worth mentioning too that the section we were on right now, between the road and the sandy hill, really sucked in terms of footing. The grass was uneven and as a result this made this section a little slower and difficult. It was nice to get to the hills, where we gave ourselves permission to walk.
Hannah obviously was worried about her son. Tyler was taking him to the pediatrician around this time, and she was continuing to receive text updates in real time. She stored her phone in pocket on the back of her sports bra, which was super convenient! I have a hard time with carrying my phone in anything outside of my running vest. Maybe I should start wearing sports bras…
When we got back on asphalt near the end of the lap, I took another stride before walking out the rest of the lap. I got in a hair under 48 minutes, time bought by the strides. Time for more finger food and ginger ale!
Yard 6:
Jonas was clearly limping right now. I inquired if he should stop. He said he’d be able to power through it. Probably not the smartest plan, but I also used all of my influence to convince Hannah that she was going to run an ultra marathon today. I may have been selfish; ultimately, I wanted buddies.
The teenagers meanwhile didn’t have this issue. Their cacophony was still going strong, both in running and in volume. We didn’t need to turn around to know they were right behind us.
“Hey what’s your goal?” they would ask others. I’m not sure if they were trying to make small talk or size up the field but my competitive headspace at the moment took the latter. I didn’t respond.
What I probably would’ve said was something along the lines of “to see how far I get.” What I really wanted to say in that moment in time was a Red Foreman-inspired “To kick your ass.” But saying that would put a target on my back and I didn’t really want that kind of attention. That being said, their overall loudness tended a fire inside of me that motivated me to at least outlast them. Knowing how long they lasted last year, this battle could last well into the evening.
The strides continued in this lap as well, adding on one other section of asphalt that gave us three strides in the lap. Overall my legs had been feeling much looser in this lap than previous ones, so the strides were probably working. My hips were still giving me some issues here and there, but the general wear-and-tear was to be expected at this point. I walked into the finish to the roar of a big crowd that accumulated at the corral. For a couple seconds I reveled in the attention before realizing the cheers were for the cross country boys behind me. Such is life.
At the end of this lap we had finished 25 miles. Two more to go to hit my minimum goal for this event!
Yard 7:
Jonas’s ankle really beginning to bother him. During the last break I was able to scrounge some ibuprofen from him but its effects hadn’t set in yet. At the beginning of the lap I was really feeling the tightness, but I was able to loosen up about a half-mile in. The chafing was toned down by use of some Squirrel Nut Butter that Hannah let me borrow. Truth was that I was going to just buy another stick for Hannah due to the places I was using it.
A mile in and we were now at the point of completing a marathon. Anything extra would be considered an “ultra” I reckon, although ITUS recognized anything above a 50k to be an ultra, which was why I still had to complete two laps.
During this lap I met another runner who had just signed on to my coach’s running team. His brother had been on the team for a good while. We spent a mile or so chatting about Cody’s philosophies and how nice it was to off-load the training schedule building and let someone else do the work.
The strides continued. Hannah mentioned one of the signs on the course inadvertently marked the two-mile mark on the lap. I didn’t think much of it. My watch was tracking pace, so as long as we kept under a certain time, then we would be good to complete the lap. I felt like the key to this race, due to the repetitive nature of the event, is to do your best at switching your brain off and keep moving forward, not thinking about how much you’ve done or how far you have yet to go.
I knew I was in mind switch-off mode as Hannah and I ran up one of the sandy hills for some reason. We were on the crest of the hill before Hannah realized it. “Why did you let me do that?” In my defense, I wasn’t thinking either. My body had traveled 28 miles at this point; I was not in the best state of reason, despite how much I thought I was still mentally sharp.
The five o’clock hour was beginning to roll around. What that means in December around here is that’s when the sun sets. There was enough residual light at this point where we would be able to finish the lap without torches no problem, but part of the next break would be retrieving my headlamp. Needed to remember that.
Yard 7 complete. One more to go to claim IUTS status!
Yard 8:
My headlamp didn’t work! Which was incredibly strange because I had just put new batteries in it in preparation of this event. For some reason the batteries had just simply drained. It wasn’t like the headlamp had been on at any time.
Also incredibly stressful in a moment right before I was supposed to be in the corral to start. Kiley had gone home but was supposed to come back to watch me complete this lap. I had about 30 seconds to run back to my camp to find my phone. I didn’t have time to text Kiley before the lap commenced, so I took my phone with me.
As the lap began, I texted Kiley to bring the extra headlamp before slowly beginning to trounce along. Putting it in my pocket was a non-starter and I didn’t have any cool sports bra so I just carried it, which was a little inconvenient but whatever, it would only last a lap.
Before this I had my phone on airplane mode, so by turning it off I was presented with a barrage of texts, most notably from my brother Will saying “Mathesons win. Win that fucking race.” Yes, my “Will” was telling me to go farther than everyone else in this event. One thing is for certain, my family was build to thrive under suffering, whether real from previous generations or manufactured from the generations I was familiar with. I may be out here due to generational trauma, as Kiley had noted at the end of this yard. I guess I gotta get that fuel from somewhere, and my egotistical desire to finish ahead of the teenagers was not sustainable.
Hannah and Jonas were taking this lap slow, intentionally dying in the desert, so they started slow and took more walk breaks than normal, so I continued on. I could feel the pace beginning to slow. I felt like the effort was the same, but the pace had fallen to about 12 minutes per mile. This was going to require a little bit more of a focused effort.
I ended up running with Michelle on this loop. It was good to have company again. It was also helpful because she had her light and I did not. She had just hired a coach so she spent most of the lap discussing his prowess and her excitement to work with him. I was able to share my own positive experiences from my athlete-coach experience over the past year.
The conversation made the lap easier to complete, and by crossing the finish line I had achieved the status of completing the Idaho Trail Ultra Series for 2024! Kiley was there. Manuka was there. Manuka especially was excited for my achievement, or just to see me, not sure.
33.67 miles down. Minimum goal achieved. Still feeling strong. Still eating a bunch. Tots and nugs were what were currently on the menu. How long could I last before I inevitably died in the desert?
Yard 9:
Kiley had brought the replacement headlamp so now I was in business from that angle. This would be my “bell” lap, which in this case meant I got to ring the bell when I finished the lap, signaling a distance PR. I had previously completed 34 miles, so a third into this lap I would be in uncharted territory as far as distance.
I ran into Hannah and Jonas who were finishing up their death lap, bid each other well, and went off our separate ways. Their day was done while mine consisted of at least one more lap.
However, as each lap progressed, so did the difficulty of transitioning from resting to running. And my legs were very heavy. I had the motive to continue running with Michelle but she was moving better and decently ahead of me. I looked at my watch to check pace.
10:30?
That seemed really quick. Maybe that’s why I was feeling like crap. However my lap pace was bouncing around quite a bit. It went up to 11:15 and back down to 10:15 and then hit 12:00 at one point. This was a bizarre issue that indicated that my GPS was not communicating well with the satellites. Considering that this was the only way that I ensured that I would complete the lap under the prescribed time, I was essentially running blind. First world problems.
And I was running alone. I tried to latch onto runners that were passing me to no avail. There was a father-daughter duo, Jeremy and Haven, that I would leap-frog on occasion but otherwise I was pretty isolated. I passed Kendra but she seemed so deep in the pain cave that she was distracted by everything else around her. While I could tell the field was beginning to thin out, a majority of the teenagers were still going strong behind me. As annoying as I had perceived them on previous laps, they were truly holding their own and that was something to be celebrated. They also had the power of camaraderie on their side, running 4–5 abreast for the entire time, which had to help distract from the discomfort. Given my current solo experience in the pain cave, the old My Little Pony adage of “Friendship is Magic” rings true.
Thanks to Hannah on a previous lap, I knew where the actual two-mile mark was, which would give me a good idea of what my actual pace was. I crossed that line around 23:30. So about 11:45, still very much on schedule.
But my legs were still very heavy. Trudging forward was difficult. I made an attempt to stride in a similar manner to the previous laps in an attempt to loosen my legs up, but they refused to move that way. The negative thoughts began pouring into my head. Your training is not up to par for this. This is the longest you’ve ever gone, it’s okay to die in the desert now. It’s dark. The true reality of this feat was beginning to settle into my body. Who would’ve known, running this far for this long is fucking hard? And the truly awful parts of the lap, like the parts with bad footing and the sand hills, were still to come. Yeah, thinking I would last through the night was a little wishful.
I’m not going to sugar-coat it, this lap absolutely sucked.
And despite all that, all of the suffering, the loneliness, the existentialism, the lack of knowing how fast I was actually running, I came across the finish with a 49:41 lap. So I was still on schedule. I still had a very wide margin. May as well keep going. I was still a long way from dying in the desert.
Oh and I also got to ring the PR bell! While I hit my distance PR early in the lap, everything from this point forward would be completely uncharted territory for my running legs.
Yard 10:
My GPS connected to the satellites again so hopefully we wouldn’t run into any pacing issues. The tenth hour of movement had begun. For me the physical issues were similar: very heavy legs that had a difficult time transitioning from rest to running gait. I had tried to elevate my legs during the break. It didn’t hurt but I’m not sure how much it helped.
In this lap it was important for me to try and run with people. Michelle was pretty far ahead but Erin had caught up to my tail about a mile and a half into this lap. And while I was still massively suffering and the negative thoughts were trying to take up real estate in my head, having Erin there with me was nice to provide a bit of a distraction from the suffering. I don’t remember what was discussed outside of a potential bid at Granite Peak in the summer and given versus preferred names, but what I do remember was that it was a much more pleasant experience that the lap before.
In finishing this lap, the idea of making it to at least 50 miles seemed like a legitimate possibility. It also was Erin’s plan (as well as Michelle’s and others): run 50 miles and then intentionally die in the desert.
50:28 was the final time that we crossed into the HQ. Still a lot of margin to play with before we ran the risk of dying. It’s kinda funny, as I looked over at the cross country teams still congregated in the corner of the building, when you’re exhausted enough, you just don’t care about beating anyone anymore. This is where true ego-death happens. We are all here, trying to transcend what we thought was possible, pushing our bodies and spirits to our absolute limits. There are no losers when we’ve all run about 38 miles together.
Yard 11:
I had thought that Yard 9 was where things began to get real. I was wrong. It was this yard. Like the part in the Cha Cha Slide where the beat dropped and the vibe shifts to “this ‘to the left’ part is much more serious.”
Up until this point I had felt like I was still in control of my pacing. In the first few laps I was running 11:30 pace in my sleep. In the last couple laps the pace was slowing down but I felt like it was still manageable to an extent; the same perceived effort was closer to a 12:00 pace, well under the pace needed to finish a lap in an hour.
At this point things were desperately laborious. Between the general exhaustion and my legs having a hard time moving, being able to will myself through this became a ton more difficult. The negative thoughts were beginning to fester. I was walking a helluva lot more.
I was absorbed back into Erin’s group which included Charles and Tom. Tom was also planning to reach 50 miles and then die on the subsequent lap. I tried so desperately to hang onto their shoulders, but I kept letting go. On previous laps I felt like I had the general strength to continue. This was beginning to falter. Also to note my stomach was lacking the appetite I had earlier, and I was compensating with gels now. On one of those walk breaks I took it. I was able to reach Tom, who was on a walk break himself.
“We are going to start running at the grass,” he noted.
We started running when the grass began. Oh man did my joints need some WD-40. Something was going to get significantly injured if I kept going. I kept stopping, walking, letting Tom get away from me. 30 yards turned to 40 and 50 yards away. This was it. This was where I was going to die.
That lonesome moment ended up turning miraculous. It was as if a blanket of love and warmth wrapped around me, calming me and telling me that they were here to take care of me and that I had the opportunity to do what I wanted to do at the time (run 50 miles), but it was still up to me to embrace it.
That spiritual experience brought me new energy (or maybe it was the gel, but I’m gonna credit my dad’s spirit on this one). I was able to catch up with Tom and stick to his shoulder now. A thought crossed my mind that since in mind this was the penultimate lap, this was going to be the toughest one, as the last lap generally has the added euphoria of being the last one. At least that’s how my interval workouts always seemed to go: the second-to-last interval was always the toughest mentally. That thought truly helped me through this lap.
We got to the 2-mile mark. We had about a 10k left to get to 50 miles. We could do that! We could get to 50 miles! That was the first moment where I realized that we could truly do this! I was feeling pretty solid now. Get to the end of this lap. Finish the next one, expending all of our energy. Then die in the desert.
Charles caught up to us near the end of the lap. He still had a lot of energy. Who knew how much longer he’d be running. We all finished the lap in 52 minutes, still a massive buffer to that hour mark.
Yard 12:
Last year around this time if you finished your 12th yard, you’d find yourself in the top 10 of the field. There were still at least 30 people in the starting corral as we were sent off to tackle this lap. Tom, Charles, Erin, and I started off together. Michelle was there. The team of Jeremy/Haven were still in the fray. Ben Burrows was still standing. Kendra had made it. A decent number of the high school kids were still trying to make their mark. The dude with the American flag was kicking. It was go-time.
Tom had helped me so much in the last lap and I’m sure we were going to help each other along on this lap. Honestly from the last lap antics I felt the need to help him finish off by giving him company while he died in the desert on Yard 13. This was the only source of motivation to keep me going after this lap, because I would’ve probably called it good when I finished.
My will to keep going was slowly beginning to break. Even if I were to complete this lap under an hour, the shear idea to come out here and walk in the cold for an hour-plus for the distinction of “dying in the desert” was borderline-idiotic. My passion for the idea was merely a flicker, much less that the fiery inferno that had encapsulated my ideas of how this race was going to go when I ventured off on Yard 1. What a dum-dum I was, thinking I’d last through the night.
I mentioned to Tom that I may not be able to keep him company on his death lap. He was fine with that. That helped release any extrinsic motivation I had to get my body back out for another lap.
“Pace?” Tom called out.
I looked at my watch: “12:50!”
This exchange would occur periodically throughout this yard, ranging between paces of 12:45 to 13:30. We knew in this case that we just need to get back to HQ with a little time to spare to collect snacks before we were summoned out to the 13th lap.
Although I was not convinced that I would be joining for that yard. I was so monumentally exhausted both in the head and body that I knew it was not a good idea to keep going. The extrinsic motivation was gone. The only thing that would keep me going was peer pressure about how dying was the only way to finish a backyard ultra.
The truth was, my willpower was set on getting to 50 miles and that was it. I could not imagine willing myself through another one of these godforsaken 4-mile laps. It just wasn’t in the cards. I knew I needed to make the decision for myself. I came in with the idea of dying in the desert but now I needed to come into myself and realize that this was going to be the end.
I could have always died on this lap, but then I wouldn’t have gotten the cool 50-mile pin on the “finisher’s” award. So that was motivation enough to get under an hour for this lap.
In previous ventures, I had always felt the need to keep going. That if I could just will myself enough a la Goggins, I would break through to the top. Allowing myself to quit before getting to the goal was akin to pussying out and something I was never comfortable with without a second opinion. Back in the summer I attempted a modified Teton Picnic but was forced to turn around due to altitude issues. Despite that, it was not a decision I made lightly, and it required some external validation to make myself feel good about the decision. It was ultimately the right one.
In this scenario, the decision was to call it at the end of this yard or keep going. I knew with conviction that I would not be able to complete another yard in the allotted time, and the thought of just walking for four miles in the cold for an extra distinction was silly. If I was wanting to keep going, I would have. But my will had broken. I would be done after the completion of this yard. That was the decision I made for myself.
I also noticed that my headlamp was not shining as brightly as it had before. I took it off and tried turning it off and back on again. The funny thing was that the headlamp wouldn’t turn back on. If this was a sign from the universe telling you that you were done, this is probably the most distinct.
55:35 was the time on my last yard. It was just in time for my friend Cozeth and her dog Hazel to greet me. Much to the dismay of the race directors and volunteers who would do nothing but get my ass out in the starting corral for four more miles, I threw in the towel.
Fifty miles. Maybe my body could have done more, but my willpower was spent. Also, dead headlamp, second time this evening, but that was secondary. Many of the others I ran with took to the starting corral and were sent off to continue their odyssey or die in the desert. Many would on the next yard.
I laid on the ground for a little while before getting up and gingerly moving over to my camp. My mom had been following along online and was not only thrilled that I had run 50 miles, but also happy that I conked out just in time for her to go to bed. I changed into some dry clothes after shivering for a while and wondering why I was shivering. Sweat-laden clothes would do that. I was able to force down some ramen before we packed up and left. I remember getting out of the shower around 11:10 pm, when I would otherwise be walking around in the cold, thinking: “Dying in the desert? Bad idea. Warm shower? Much better idea.”
Ben had also refused to continue after reaching the 50-mile point, as did the guy carrying the American flag. Tom, Kendra, and Michelle all died on the next lap. Erin made it through 13 yards for experiencing her demise on the next lap. Charles completed 15 yards but failed to complete the 16th. Coach Jeremy died on Yard 14, but Haven, 16, made it to the final three runners!
The race was ultimately won on Yard 20 by one of the teenagers. Props.
After:
That original lofty goal of 25 Yards? Yeah definitely a bit dreamy. But it was more of a sight to see how far I could actually go. And sure, reality set in pretty quickly after achieving the minimum goal completing eight yards. I could have stopped there. Stopped where I knew that continuing on would have been potentially detrimental to my body. But why would I have done that while sacrificing the opportunity to see how far I could go?
I was curious going in what would break first, my body or my willpower. My body probably could have survived one or two more laps, but my will was completely spent. It’s further proof that mental strength is just as important, if not more, than physical prowess when it comes to endurance athletics. You can push your body through a lot if you are willing to suffer along with it. Such is life.
I am at peace with my decision to stop when I did. As I’m writing this, I have since recovered from the run and am now looking back at the idea of running another lap just to see if I would have truly died in the desert. That really is the true marker of knowing I truly gave it my all physically. Who actually knew, even me, if I would have died on Yard 13 if I tried to finish it? Of course there was the snafu with the headlamp, but I knew deep within me that I had given everything I could on that day and that going out for one more lap was not necessary (and may have been a little dangerous). So yes, as I look back reflecting on if I could have just pushed myself a little further, the decision I made at the time was the correct one for me.
Still I was absolutely thrilled to reach the 50-mile mark! It is a massive milestone for myself, having just done upwards of 55k before this moment. While I didn’t die in the desert, I still significantly pushed my body past what it had done before. It built my confidence that I could potentially graduate to 50-mile trail races sooner than I expected. Given my training leading up to it and just my general perceived fitness, wringing out 50 miles from my body was a perfect way to end the year!
Dizzy Horse also marked the culmination of the Idaho Trail Ultra Series, a selection of ultras across the state where you need to complete four to be recognized as an ITUS jacket recipient. The races I chose spanned from June to this race in December, and by including the tune-up races in the spring, I had been in training more since the previous new year. It was a thrilling 11.5 months of consistent work and injury management. I would like to thank Cody Lind for helping me manage a long training block and preparing me to get to the start and finish lines of these races.
I also want to thank everyone who helped me along the way in this event. From Tyler, Hannah, and Jones in the first half, to Michelle, Erin, and Tom in the latter laps, the power of friendship can really transcend what we can achieve by ourselves. I probably don’t get to 50 miles without them.
Additionally, huge thanks to race directors Jeff Fullmer, Dan Beck, and the assortment of volunteers that helped out in this race, fed me, and continued to boost my morale throughout this race and the overall journey.
Also, thanks dad for coming down and giving me some spiritual reassurance that you are looking out for me during my low points in the race!
We don’t get many opportunities in life to truly see just how capable we are and stretch ourselves to our very limits and beyond what we originally thought we were capable of. Backyard ultras are a great way to test this out from a running standpoint. I did observe that this event brought out a lot of folks who wouldn’t normally run an ultra marathon, lining up with people who were spunky high school athletes or seasoned 100-mile runners and everyone in between. It was a very diverse field, yet they all had one goal in mind: to see where their limits are.
And on December 13, 2024? My limit was 50 miles.
