Race Report: 2026 Daufuskie Island Marathon

Twelve years ago, I completed a long-term goal to qualify for the Boston Marathon in every state.  At the time, I was running qualifying times so consistently that one of my friends started calling me “Mr. BQ.”

Since then, I’ve hit a few bumps in the road.  I had groin injuries, tendinopathy, pulled hamstrings, a broken rib, a back surgery, a knee injury, and a few bouts of sciatica.  It’s hard to stay in shape when you can’t train consistently.  I managed to qualify at least once a year, but there were some years when I only qualified once.

I’ve stayed healthy enough for the past three years to keep up a good training base.  For the last a year and a half, I’ve been qualifying for Boston consistently again.

A few months ago, I started to wonder how close I was to completing a second circuit of BQs in every state.  I knew I had at least 40 states.  My best guess was that there were only eight or nine states where I had not yet qualified for a second time.

When I checked my records, I found out that I was closer than I thought.  I just needed six states to complete a second circuit of BQs.  One of those states was South Carolina.

As I started planning my race schedule for 2026, one of the races I considered was the Myrtle Beach Marathon, which has a nice flat course.  Unfortunately, the airfare was outrageously expensive.  Then I looked at the Daufuskie Island Marathon.

I’ve run this race before, so I was familiar with the course and the logistics.  The first time I ran it, I wasn’t in shape, but my recollection was that the course was fairly flat.  It seemed like a race where I could BQ with a good effort.

There aren’t any roads onto the island.  To get there, you need to take a ferry from Hilton Head Island.  Last time, I stayed in a hotel on Hilton Head Island, and I took the ferry on the morning of the race.

When I priced flights, I saw that I could get a direct flight to Savannah for a reasonable airfare.  From the Savannah airport, it takes about an hour to drive to Hilton Head Island.  If all went well, I could get there in the late afternoon.

When I’m traveling by myself to a race in the U.S., I typically arrive the day before the race.  For this race, I made an exception.  You never know when a winter storm will hit, and I didn’t want to risk a significant flight delay.

Thursday, January 15

The race was on Saturday, so I flew to Savannah on Thursday.  I’ve been to Hilton Head Island twice before, so instead of spending three nights there, decided to spend the first night in Savannah.

I found a hotel near the downtown area that was surprisingly affordable.  I could walk to any of the downtown restaurants, but my room rate was only $97.  The only catch was that I had to pay for parking.

After checking in at my hotel, I spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the waterfront.  I was surprised how cold it was.  It couldn’t have been any warmer than 40 degrees, and the wind made it feel much colder.  I found myself ducking into shops just to get out of the wind.

When I got tired of being out in the cold wind, I had an early dinner at a seafood restaurant on the waterfront.

Friday, January 16

When I got up, I checked my weather app.  I was shocked to see that it was only 25 degrees.  It was colder in Savannah than it was in Minneapolis.

After breakfast, I did a weight training workout.  While doing a set of push-ups, I felt like I tweaked something in my upper back.  It wasn’t a big deal at the time, but it would bother me later.

I didn’t need to be in any rush to get to Hilton Head Island, so I had a relaxing morning at my hotel in Savannah, and I didn’t head to Hilton Head Island until after lunch.

After stopping to check in at my hotel on Hilton Head Island, I continued to Palmetto Running Company to pick up my race packet.  The race shirt was a long sleeve, half zip turtleneck.  This is a cupless race, so my race packet also included a reusable cup to take with me during the race.  It was a different style than the cup they gave me last time.  This one was lighter and easier to carry.

I had an early dinner and went to bed early, in anticipation of an early morning on race day.

I slept well for a few hours.  Then I got up to go to the bathroom.  When I went back to bed, I couldn’t get comfortable.  I felt that muscle in my upper back.  After that, I was awake for most of the night.

Saturday, January 17

Saturday was race day.  I was up earlier than I planned, which gave me time for a long shower.  The warm water helped soothe my upper back and neck.

It was 36 degrees on Hilton Head Island, and I assumed the temperature was similar on Daufuskie Island.  I expected it to warm into the upper 40s by the time the race started, but I still opted to wear tights.

I had to leave early to take a ferry to Daufuskie Island.  I knew from past experience that the parking lots near the ferry terminal fill up fast.  If I didn’t want to park a mile away, I needed to get there by 5:30 AM.

I got a grab-and-go breakfast from my hotel.  I parked as close as I could to the ferry terminal.  I ate my breakfast while I was waiting for the ferry to load.  The first ferry of the day left at 6:00, but that was reserved for race volunteers.  I was on the next ferry, which started loading as soon as the first one left.

It was chilly in the morning, so I wore extra layers.  I needed them when I got to Daufuskie Island.  The marathon didn’t start until 8:30, so I was waiting for the better part of two hours.

They had tables and chairs set up under a huge canopy.  I was expecting it to be heated, but they had a problem with their electrical system, so there was no heat.  It also took a while before they had hot water.

After a while, they started some small bonfires, so we could gather around them to get warm.  They also told us we could go inside the mansion.  About an hour before the race, I moved indoors.  I stayed there until it was time to check my gear bag and make my final bathroom stop.

The course was a 13.1-mile loop that we ran twice.  There were sections of paved road, sections of dirt road, and sections of paved paths that were mostly used for golf carts.  I was racing for time, so I didn’t take any pictures during the race.  If you want to see what the course looks like, my race report from 2022 has pictures:  2022 Daufuskie Island Marathon

To qualify for Boston, I needed to finish in 4:05.  Ideally, I wanted to break four hours, but the important thing was to get the BQ.  That’s what I came here for.

The first challenge was establishing a fast enough pace in the first mile.  They didn’t have pace groups, so I was on my own to find the right pace.

We started out on a brick surface, so I had to watch my footing.  It was also congested for the first minute or so, which made it harder to start at a fast pace.

We quickly got onto smooth pavement.  I had more room to run now, so I accelerated until the pace had me breathing somewhat hard.  Then I maintained the same effort until I got my first split.

To break four hours, I needed an average pace of 9:09 per mile.  I ran the first mile in 8:20, which is way too fast.

In the next mile, I eased up a little, but not enough.  I was no longer keeping up with the runners around me, but nobody else seemed to be passing me.  That mile was a little slower, but still too fast.

Halfway through the third mile, we came to a junction where an aid station was set up.  We would pass through this same junction three times on each lap.  There were volunteers holding pitchers of water and an electrolyte drink.  I stopped long enough for a volunteer to fill my reusable cup.  I walked while I drank, and then worked to get back up to speed.

This was the drill at every aid station.  Because I had to stop briefly to have my cup filled, I always lost a little time at the aid stations.

After turning right at this junction, I started a loop that would eventually lead me back to the same aid station.  I was almost to the end of the third mile, when I reached the first section of dirt road.

As soon as I got there, I could see the footprints of the runners who got there ahead of me.  This section of road was mostly sand, and the top half inch or so was soft.  I didn’t remember this road being this soft when I ran this race before.  Maybe they had some recent rain, and the road was firmer.  This year, it was dry sand.

Running on this surface was tiring.  I worked harder in an attempt to keep from slowing down too much.

My time for mile three was 8:48, which was still faster than my target pace.  Most of that mile was paved.  The next mile would be all on the sandy road, so I knew it would be slower.

The next mile took me 9:11.  That wasn’t bad.  It was only a couple of seconds slower than my target pace.  Unfortunately, running at that pace through the sand was tiring me out.

The next mile started out on sand, but before the end of that mile, I got back onto pavement.  That immediately felt easier.  I worked hard to re-establish my previous pace.  I was able to bring my pace back under nine minutes per mile, but I was working way too hard.  I felt much more tired than I should after only five miles.

Since the first mile, I had been slowly falling behind the runners around me.  Each mile, a few more passed me.  In mile six, I finally started to keep pace with the runners ahead of me.

By now, I had gone through the aid station again, and I was beginning another loop that would eventually bring me back again.  After about two miles on pavement, I reached another section of dirt road.

This section wasn’t sandy.  It was gravel.  It was a much firmer surface, but it was peppered with small rocks, making it somewhat uncomfortable.  At one point, I tripped on a rock, and I was momentarily thrown off balance.  I didn’t fall, but it disrupted my momentum.  It also scared me a little.

I saw a canopy and a table with cups of water.  I dumped water from one of the cups into my own cup, so I wouldn’t waste a cup.  I’m pretty sure this was an unofficial aid station set up by some local residents.  They also had pickle juice.

In my first full mile on the gravel road, I slowed to 9:10.  That was similar to my pace on the sandy road, but it didn’t tire me out the same way.

By the nine-mile mark, I was back on pavement.  I was able to bring my pace down close to nine minutes, but no faster.  From here on out, the pace took more effort.

After going through the main aid station for the third time, I turned to head back toward the north end of the island.  Coming back, we took a much longer route.

In mile 11, we ran through a neighborhood with houses that were probably built in the 1800s.  Then we crossed two small bridges over streams.  As I finished crossing the first bridge, I caught one of my feet on some type of seam.  I kept my balance, but it scared me again.

On the second bridge, I was more mindful of the seams.  What I wasn’t watching for were the screws that held the boards in place.  Most of them weren’t flush with the wood.  The screw heads stuck out just enough that you could catch a shoe on them.  Once again, I stumbled, but didn’t fall.

I had been wearing gloves since the start of the race.  I didn’t feel like I needed them anymore, so I took them off and stuffed them into my fanny pack.

With about two miles left in the first lap, I crossed a longer bridge over a marshy area.  This bridge took us to a paved path that followed the shoreline.  On this bridge, I was so cautious that I couldn’t help but slow down.  When I got back on pavement, I worked hard to pick up my pace again.

The pavement was soon replaced by a gravel path.  This was a much nicer surface.  It was probably crushed limestone.  I didn’t have any trouble with this section.

There was one other aid station on the course.  When I got there, one of the volunteers recognized me.  We met on the ferry.  She recognized my jacket, even though it was tied around my waist.

For the rest of that lap, I kept up a pace that was slightly faster than the pace I needed.  It took much more effort now.  I didn’t know how I would hold up in the second lap.  I was already much too tired.

Ideally, I should have run the first lap in two hours.  I was a little faster than 1:57.  I was more than three minutes ahead of schedule.  I knew I would regret that in the second half. My average pace so far was about 15 seconds per mile too fast.

The good news is that I could now afford to run 15 seconds slower than my target pace in the second half.  The bad news is that I probably would, just because I was already tired.

As I started my second lap, I worked hard to keep from giving back time before I reached the sandy section.  In miles 14-16, I stayed pretty close to my target pace.  I wasn’t giving back any time … yet.

There was a half marathon that started an hour after the marathon.  By the time I reached the sandy section for the second time, all the half marathon runners had already been though there.  The faster marathon runners had been through here twice already.  That just made the road even softer.  In addition to being soft, it was now an uneven surface.

At first, I picked up my effort to keep from slowing down too much.  That quickly proved to be too tiring.  I had to accept that this mile would be slow.  I eased back to an effort that wouldn’t break me.

In mile 17, I was 30 seconds slower than my target pace.  Mile 18 was also about 30 seconds slower, even though that mile finished on pavement.  The good news is that I was done with the most tiring section, and I was still two minutes ahead of schedule.

I caught up to two runners who had been a short distance ahead of me through the sandy section.  They were alternating running with short walking breaks.  I asked them if they had a time they were targeting.  They said they wanted to break four hours.  I said, “Me too.”  Then I added that we were two minutes ahead of schedule.  With eight miles to go, we could now afford to be 15 seconds slower per mile the rest of the way.  They took another walking break, and I ran ahead of them.  I never saw them again.

By now I had started passing people at the back of the half marathon who were walking.  That made it harder to see the next runner ahead of me.  I eventually spotted a runner who I could follow, but they were at least a quarter mile ahead.  It was hard to gauge if I was going at the same pace.

I was expecting to get hot in the second lap.  According to the hourly forecast, the temperature was going to climb into the upper 50s.  I expected to get hot wearing tights, but I didn’t.  It was cloudy, and we had a light breeze.  At times, my hands got cold.

In mile 19, I was about 15 minutes slower than my target pace.  I could afford that, but it was scary.  At this pace, I would be cutting it close.  Also, I doubted that I could sustain this effort all the way to the finish.

When you’re running near your limit, there comes a time when you have to ask yourself how badly you want it.  My primary goal was to get a Boston qualifier.  For that, I just needed to break 4:05.  At this point, I could do that just by averaging 10 minutes per mile the rest of the way.  I felt like that was in the bag,

The question was how deep I was willing to dig to stay on pace to break four hours.  I expected it to be a fight all the way to the finish, and I wasn’t confident I could do it.  I continued to fight for it.

In mile 20, I didn’t give back any time.  With 6.2 miles to go, I still had a cushion of roughly 1:45.  Then I reached the gravel road for the second time.

This time, I didn’t take the time to stop at the unofficial aid station.  I couldn’t afford it, and I was pretty sure I was getting enough to drink.  I wasn’t as hot as I thought I would be.

This section had much better traction than the sand, but it still wasn’t as efficient as running on pavement.  I fought hard to maintain my pace, but I gave back 20 seconds in mile 21.  I also gave back about 20 seconds in mile 22, even though part of that was back on pavement.

I was now through the toughest parts of the course.  The only sections likely to slow me down were the bridges.  I had just over four miles to go, and I had a cushion of one minute.

After stopping at the aid station again, I fought hard to get back on pace.  I knew I couldn’t make up the lost time.  I didn’t know if I could speed up, but I was disappointed to see that I slowed down, even though that mile was all on pavement.  In one mile, I lost 30 seconds.  With more than three miles to go, my cushion was only about 30 seconds.

I could see the handwriting on the wall, but I didn’t give up.  I kept trying to pick up the pace, but then I would feel myself slowing down again.  The last straw was when I reached the two short bridges over the streams.  I didn’t trip on either bridge, but they slowed me down.  I couldn’t keep up the same pace while trying to be cautious.

In mile 24, I gave back another 30 seconds.  Now, I essentially had no cushion.  I didn’t know how much I could trust my watch to give me an accurate distance, so I double-checked when I saw the 11-mile sign from the first lap.  From there, I knew it was 2.1 miles to go.

My time with 2.1 miles to go confirmed that I was right on pace, but with no cushion.  All of my recent miles, however, were too slow, and I had no expectation that I would be able to speed up again.  I still tried.  I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

On the long bridge leading out to the shoreline, I had the same experience that I had on the other bridges.  I got across safely, but my caution was costing me time.

When I reached the last aid station, I didn’t stop.  I couldn’t afford the time, and I was confident I was drinking enough.  I didn’t have far to go.

I reached 25 before I knew it, but it was bad news.  I gave back another 30 seconds.  With 1.2 miles to go, I was now almost 30 seconds behind schedule.

That took the wind out of my sails.  I knew a four-hour finish was no longer possible.  I didn’t deliberately slow down, but I was no longer fighting as hard.  Now, I just wanted to finish.

Mile 26 was my slowest of the race.  I was getting close to the finish, but I still couldn’t see it.  There were still three more turns.  I ran harder from there, but it was too little, too late.

I finished the race in 4:01:10.  I didn’t break four hours, but I did get my second BQ for South Carolina.  I’m now just five states away from completing two BQs in every state.

The finisher medal was a sea turtle.  There was also a sea turtle on the race shirt.  It’s pretty much the logo for this race.

It was 12:31 PM.  The next ferry was scheduled to depart at 12:40.  I decided to skip the post-race food and beer and try to catch the next ferry.

I had to retrieve my gear bag.  Not knowing when I would get another chance to go to the bathroom, I also made a quick stop at a port-o-potty.  Then I ran, as best I could, to catch the ferry.

I got there before 12:40, and I got in line to board.  There was already a long line.  The ferry can only hold 100 passengers, and I wasn’t sure if there were already 100 people in line in front of me.

Fifteen minutes later, we were still waiting.  Then I learned from the person in front of me that the 12:40 ferry filled so quickly that it left 10 minutes early.  We were now waiting for the next ferry.

The next scheduled ferry was at 1:40, but we could see another ferry already coming.  The people who run the ferries apparently realized that there were too many people already waiting.  After a wait of about 30 minutes, we started boarding the next ferry.

While I was waiting, I put on all my warm-up clothes.  That kept me warm enough, but I got stiff after standing for so long.  When the line started moving, walking was painful.

I got on the next ferry, but all the indoor seating was taken.  I had to go upstairs and sit outside.  It’s much colder on the water than it is on land.  It took about 40 minutes to get back to Hilton Head Island.  By the time we got there, my hands were numb, even though I was wearing gloves.

I had a long walk back to my car, followed by a 15-minute drive back to my hotel.  I had the heat vents aimed at my hands, but they still felt tingly when I got back to the hotel.  It took a long hot shower to warm me up again.

Because I skipped the post-race food, I was starving.  There was a post-race party at 5:00, but I couldn’t wait that long.  I went to dinner at 3:30.  Then I went to the party from there.

I don’t have any regrets about rushing to catch the next ferry after the race.  At the party, I talked to runners who waited in line for two hours.  Getting in line when I did may have been my best decision of the day.

Sunday, January 18

I got a good night’s sleep, but I still felt like a train wreck the next morning.  When I went down to breakfast another runner said, “Aren’t you glad we didn’t have today’s weather for the race?”  On Sunday, it rained all morning.  Standing outside in a cold rain to wait for the ferry would have been miserable.

It was still raining when I drove back to Savannah to fly home.  The most direct route goes through low-lying areas that can flood.  I took a longer route, to be on the safe side.

Race statistics:

Distance:  26.2 miles

Time:  4:01:10

Average Pace:  9:12 per mile

First Half:  1:56:47

Second Half:  2:04:23

Marathons/Ultras in 2026:  3

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  575

Lifetime Boston Qualifiers:  188

TBT: 2007 Mississippi Trail 50

This is a Throwback Thursday post.  I didn’t start writing race reports until 2010, and I didn’t start this blog until 2014.  This week, I decided to write up my recollections of a race I ran almost 19 years ago.  It was one of the best race performances of my life.  It was also one of the most surprising.

On March 10, 2007, I ran the Carl Touchstone Memorial Mississippi Trail 50.  This race was held on horse trails in DeSoto National Forest.  The closest city with hotels was Laurel, MS.

Deb and I flew to Gulfport and drove from there to Laurel.  Deb had a sinus infection, and her congestion made her ears painful on the flights.  We had to stop at a pharmacy to get her a stronger decongestant.

Packet pickup was in Laurel, where there was also a pre-race dinner and briefing.  The race was named in memory of Carl Touchstone, who was a well-known local runner and race organizer.  At the dinner, I met a runner who had known Carl.

What I remember most from the pre-race briefing was the race director telling us that it was turkey hunting season, and there might be hunters in the forest during the race.  We were cautioned not to wear anything red, as the red wattle of a male turkey is something hunters look for.

It would have been nice to get that information before we left home.  I brought a fuel belt that had two small red pouches on the front.  At this point, it was too late to get something else.  I went to bed that night hoping I wouldn’t get shot during the race.

The race started in a campground in the state forest.  We had to get up early to make the drive from Laurel.  I woke up with the beginnings of a cold.  My symptoms were mild.  I didn’t know how it would affect my race.  I also didn’t know how exerting myself for 50 miles would affect my body’s ability to fight off the cold.  I just had to show up and do my best.

I had low expectations for this race, and it wasn’t just because of the cold.  I had never run an ultra on trails before.  Training through the winter, I had done all my winter training on a treadmill.  I ran a road marathon a month earlier, but I had not done any training on trails.  I was in pretty good shape that year, but I was out of my element.

I wanted to get to the campground well before the race started.  I thought we were going to get there about 30 minutes early.  As we were looking for a place to park the car, Deb said, “I think they’re lining up to start.”

I assumed she must be mistaken.  The race didn’t start for another 30 minutes, or so I thought.  It turns out I was mistaken about the start time.  When I saw for myself that the race was about to start, I told Deb to just stop the car and let me out.

Fortunately, I was already wearing my fuel belt, and I had filled my bottles before leaving the hotel.  I hopped out of the car and ran over to the starting line.  By now, the race had already started.

We were supposed to check in before the race, so they would have a full accounting of who was on the course.  I ran up to the RD, who was at the starting line, and I asked him where I needed to check in.  He said, “You’re checked in.  Go!”  By now, everyone else had been running for almost two minutes.

The course was a 12.5-mile trail loop.  For the 50-mile race, we had to run four laps.  There was also a 50K race that started with two laps of the same loop and then switched to a shorter loop with different trail markings.

When I signed up for this race, I wasn’t confident that I was ready for a 50-mile race.  I was working on a long-term goal of running a marathon or ultra in every state.  I chose this race for Mississippi, because it fit well into my schedule, and we were able to get a good airfare for our flight to Gulfport.  Back then, we wouldn’t fly anywhere if the airfare was more than about $250.

I could always start the 50-mile race, but switch to the 50K race if it wasn’t going well.  I might not have signed up for this race if I didn’t have the option of dropping down to a shorter distance.

The course started out running though the campground.  I wasn’t familiar with the course, and the other runners were already too far ahead for me to see them.  As I ran through the campground, I was asking campers, “Which way did the runners go?”  The campers pointed, and I ran than in that direction until I was onto the trail.

Within another minute or two, I could see some of the runners.  I was catching up to the back of the pack.

We were on a trail that was wide enough for horses, but there wasn’t much room to pass other runners.  I wasn’t expecting to be competitive, but I also didn’t want to be stuck behind everyone, so I worked hard to get around people and move forward through the pack.  It’s only because of my effort to pass people that I started at a fast pace.  Otherwise, I would’ve paced myself more conservatively, knowing that I had never run 50 miles on trails before.

After at least a mile of working frantically to pass people, I suddenly broke into the clear.  There were still runners ahead of me, but they were so far ahead that I couldn’t see them.

The first time I reached an aid station, I asked one of the volunteers how many runners had already gone by.  He said, “five.”  I topped off my bottles, ate a donut, and continued running.

The course didn’t have any major climbs, but it was still semi-technical.  There were stream crossings, roots, and occasional patches of mud.  Thankfully, it had been a dry winter, so I could hop across most of the streams without getting my feet wet.

I still couldn’t see any of the runners ahead of me.  I was expecting to be able to follow other runners.  Instead, I was on my own to look for the trail markings.

At one point, it occurred to me that I couldn’t see any of the ribbons marking the route.  I didn’t know if I had missed a turn.  I briefly stopped to look back.  I didn’t see anyone coming up behind me.  I wondered if I should stop and wait.  Not wanting to lose too much time, I continued running.  Soon, I saw a ribbon, and I knew I was still on course.

The course was mostly a loop, but there was one short out-and-back-section.  When I got there, I saw the lead runner coming back.  As I continued, I saw the other four runners who were ahead of me.  By the time I reached the turnaround and started coming back, I could no longer see any of them.  They were too far ahead of me.

I was almost back to the campground when I finally got close enough to another runner to see him just ahead of me.  I passed him as I ran through the campground for the second time.

As I ran through the same section of trail where I was passing people before, I recognized most of the turns.  After another mile or two, I caught up to another runner, and we had a brief conversation.

Her name was Anne.  She was from Wisconsin, and she knew some of the other runners.  She said the next runner I would catch was Larry, and he was from Chicago.  As I went ahead on my own, Anne told me when I saw Larry, I should tell him Anne says hello.

Gradually catching up to the runners ahead of me kept me excited.  I never expected to run this race competitively, but I was now in fourth place, and I got more excited each time I caught up to another runner.  Soon, I caught up to Larry.  I gave him Anne’s greeting, and then I moved ahead of him.

Ultramarathons are at least as much psychological as they are physical.  Obviously, longer distances require more training, but it’s easy to underestimate the importance of things like confidence and excitement.  Each time I passed another runner, I got more excited, and I gained in confidence.  I didn’t stop to ask myself if I could run this fast for 50 miles.  I just got caught up in the excitement.

I eventually passed one more runner.  Then I reached the out-and-back section again.  I looked for the last remaining runner who was ahead of me.  I never saw him.  He finished this section before I got there.  For the rest of the race, I wouldn’t see another runner ahead of me.  I was running on my own for the rest of the race.

When I finished that lap, it was decision time.  Should I continue on the 50-mile course or switch to the 50K course?  I didn’t have to think too hard.  I felt good, and I was excited about being in second place, so I started a third lap of the same loop.  It would have still been possible to stop after three laps and get listed as a 50K finisher, but that wasn’t very palatable.  Three laps would be 37.5 miles, which is much farther than 50K.  I committed to running 50 miles.

For someone with no training on trails, I did remarkably well at maintaining a good pace, while avoiding roots and navigating stream crossings.  At one point, I did trip on something, but I was able to keep from falling.  I had a rather awkward landing on my other foot, however.  It was so jarring, that I immediately felt pain in my lower back.  My right leg briefly felt numb.  I managed to keep running, and within a minute or two I felt normal again.  That was a huge relief.

We were sharing these trails with a few people on horseback.  At one point, I passed a few riders.  When they saw me coming, they stopped, so their horses wouldn’t get spooked.  I could see places where the horses had stirred up mud on some of the softer parts of the trail.

My biggest recollection from my third lap was getting a sung stuck in my head.  It was The Chicken Dance, which is a song you typically only hear at wedding receptions.  I had that tune in my head for about an hour.

I was trying to catch up to the lead runner, but he was getting farther ahead of me.  Each time I finished a lap, I saw a  board showing what time the leader had gone through.  By the time I started my last lap, I knew I had no hope of catching him.  Instead, I focused on staying ahead of everyone else and running the best pace I could.  I may have slowed a little in the last lap, but not too much.

I finished the race in second place, roughly 20 minutes after the winner finished.  My official time was 7:24:02, but that was the time from when the gun went off.  By my watch, I ran the course in 7:22:29.  Either way, it was a 50-mile PR that I’ve never broken.  Even on roads, I never came close to matching that time.  I still don’t know how I did that.  I’m normally slower on trails than on roads, and I’m even slower when I’m carrying the extra weight of water bottles.

Later in the day, there was a post-race dinner back in Laurel.  When I told another runner about The Chicken Dance, he got a good laugh.

My award for second place was a plexiglass trophy in the shape of Mississippi.  It’s one of my favorite awards.

The winner of that race was a park ranger who worked in the DeSoto National Forest, so he was able to train on the same trails that we were racing on.  He outclassed everyone there.  I did well to finish second.

After the race, I no longer had any cold symptoms.  My exertion may have helped me fight off the cold.  That’s the sort of thing that can go either way.  In other news, I didn’t get shot by any hunters.

The next day, Deb and I drove to Gulfport.  Before flying home, we drove the coastal highway between Gulfport and Biloxi.  It was two years after the area was hit by Hurricane Katrina, and I wanted to see what the area looked like now.  I used to visit Biloxi on business trips, so I was familiar with the area.

I was astonished to see the damage along the coast.  Of the buildings I recognized, only a few were still standing.  One was a shopping mall.  It had damage, but it was still intact.  Another building I recognized was a small shop next to the beach that sold beach ware and souvenirs.  I don’t know how that building survived.  Larger, sturdier buildings were reduced to rubble.

Location was critical.  The buildings along the coast were all destroyed, even though many of them were modern brick buildings.  Just a few blocks farther inland, wooden houses were still standing.  Apparently, the larger buildings along the coast felt the full brunt of the storm.  They sheltered the smaller, more fragile buildings behind them.

I was pleased to see that the local governments had invested in restoring their white sand beach.  Having been to Biloxi before, I knew how important tourism was to the local economy.

The following year, I was contacted by the race organizers.  Because I placed second in 2007, they offered me a complimentary entry in 2008.  I had to decline.  At the time, we could only afford a few trips per year.  I was prioritizing races that gave me new states.  Other than local races, I wasn’t repeating any states.  That’s probably just as well.  There’s no way I could ever recreate the magic of my second-place finish in 2007.

Race Statistics

Distance:  50 miles

Official Time:  7:24:02

Actual Time on Course:  7:22:29

Average Pace:  8:51 per mile

Race Report: Across the Years January 2 Marathon

Today was my sixth and final marathon at Across the Years.  I just needed to run 19 more laps of the 1.4108-mile loop around Peoria Sports Complex.

Last night, I went to bed right after dinner.  I slept well for most of the night.  I really needed that.

I woke up with the usual stiff muscles and tight Achilles tendons.  I also had some soreness on the right side of my lower back.  That was new.

After breakfast, I checked the live results to see how the 6-day runners were doing.  Several of them had already logged 300 miles, and they still had more than 24 hours to go.  Justin Montague was crushing the men’s race.  His wife, Melissa, had been leading the women’s race for four days, but now Yolanda Holder was in the lead.

I also checked the results for the last person standing race.  There were two runners still going after 130 laps (183.4 miles).

As usual, I was moving better by the time I arrived at the race venue.  Despite sleeping better, I was lacking in energy, both physically and emotionally.  I was ready to be done.

I ran the entire first lap.  I think it was my fastest lap since Sunday.  Starting with my second lap, I walked two very short uphill sections that come early in the loop.  For three more laps, I still ran everywhere else.

I was toying with the idea of walking a significant portion of today’s race.  I wanted to run as much as possible in the first half, so I could switch to walking later, without being on the course all day.  I used to be able to walk a marathon in less than six hours, but that takes a lot of training.  Lately, I just haven’t trained enough to walk at a fast pace for more than a few miles.

In my fifth lap, I finally added a longer walking break.  I walked the same section of sidewalk that I’ve been walking other days.  This is a picture I took a few days ago.  I call this the “Avenue of Flags.”

When I finished a lap, I always looked to see what place I was in.  For the first four laps, I was the second place male.  After my fifth lap, I dropped to third place.

Now I had a decision to make.  There are awards to the top three.  I needed to decided if I was going to keep up my pace, in an effort to stay in third place, or whether to switch to walking at some point.

During my sixth lap, I stopped at the aid station to have some oatmeal.  I had to wait long enough for a volunteer to scoop oatmeal into a cup.  Then I stirred in some milk and brown sugar.  I took the cup with me and walked while I ate my oatmeal.  I knew where there was a trash can next to some port-o-potties.  I finished my oatmeal just before I got there.  Then I ran the rest of the lap.

In lap seven, I went back to walking the two short ramps and the “Avenue of Flags.”  I was going to do that in my eighth lap, but I forgot to switch to walking at the “Avenue of Flags.”  I ended up running the rest of that lap.

At this point, I had 11 laps to go.  Usually at this point, I’d by thinking, “I still need to keep up this pace for 11 laps.”  Instead, I was still entertaining thoughts that I might switch to walking at some point.  That allowed me to focus on one lap at a time.  My mindset was I’d run most of this lap, but I could always switch to walking later.

The halfway point came in the middle of my tenth lap.  At this point, I was a little bit faster than yesterday.  I still didn’t know if I would be walking most of the second half.

There were still two runners in the last person standing race.  Their names were Mike and Ben.  They needed to start a lap every 20 minutes.  As I was finishing one of my laps, there was less than a minute before they were due to start their next lap.  I was about to cross the finish line when I heard the nearby crowd erupt in cheers.  They could see Ben coming.  Mike had already been resting for the last few minutes.  It’s not a good sign when a runner is cutting it that close.

Early in my next lap, as I was going around a turn, I looked back and saw Mike coming.  I didn’t see Ben.  I slowed down so Mike would catch up to me.  I said, “I see you, but I don’t see the other guy.  Is he still running?”  Mike said, “He’s back there.”

Mike clearly wanted to say something more, but he struggled to say it.  Then he said, “I’m sorry.  I’m too tired to explain.”  Mike and Ben had both been running without sleep for almost 48 hours.

For the rest of that lap, I was never far from Mike.  Late in the lap, as we ran through the parking lot, Mike saw one of his friends and said, “Just shoot me.”

Ben finished that lap, but with only a few seconds to spare.  Mike was at the end of his rope, but it was obvious he would win.  Mike went on to win the race with 145 laps, which is more than 200 miles.

The race between Melissa and Yolanda was intriguing.  Melissa is a runner and Yolanda is a pure power walker.  I met Melissa on Sunday, and every day I was impressed with her fast pace.  I’ve known Yolanda for years.

Melissa’s strength is that she could go faster, as long as she was mostly running.  Yolanda never runs, but she also never slows down.  She’s like the Energizer Bunny.

At different times during the race, I would either walk with Yolanda or run or walk with Melissa.  I was encouraging both of them.

Early in the day, Yolanda had a big lead, but I was passing her more often than I was passing Melissa.  Melissa was gradually catching up.  I suspect that the race will come down to who can get by with less sleep during the final night.  They finish at 9 AM tomorrow morning.

I stopped for food one more time.  When I saw that the food tent had hot dogs, I stopped to get one.  I ate about half of it while I was there and then walked while I finished it.

When I had five laps to go, I caught up to Melissa.  She asked me how I was doing.  I mentioned that I wanted to walk the rest of the way, but I was in third place and wanted to hang on to that.  She asked me how much my cushion way.  I had no idea.

Melissa was holding her phone, so the looked up the live results and told me I was ahead of the fourth place male by almost three miles.  Basically, I was two laps ahead with only five laps to go.  I had a safe lead as long as I was mostly running.

Melissa’s pace was slower than mine, but I could afford to slow down.  I ran with her for an entire lap, before continuing on my own.

Now I just had four laps to go.  I ran the next lap at my own pace.  With three laps to go, I bumped into Annabel at the food tent.  Like me, she was doing marathons every day.  She also asked me how I was doing.  I told her I had just three laps to go.  She said she did too.

I ran the rest of that lap with Annabel, but I had to work hard to keep up with her.  Her current pace was faster than I had been running.  When we finished that lap, Annabel saw that she was wrong about her lap count.  I now had two laps to go, but she only had one left.

I ran with Annabel for one more lap, even though it was tiring.  When she was done with her race, I continued on my own.  I now just had one lap to go.

When you’re running the same loop for multiple laps, the last lap always feels different.  That’s even more true when you’ve been running the same loop for several days.  In six days, I ran this loop 114 times, but this was the last time.

Around every turn and with every change of surface, I knew I was seeing this part of the course for that last time.  That made my last lap feel like a victory lap.

All week, I’ve been leaving my cup at the aid station.  On my last lap, I had to remember to take it with me.  It’s a souvenir cup from another race, so I didn’t want to leave it behind.  I also didn’t want to do an extra half mile of walking after the race to go back to the aid station to retrieve it.  I drank the last of my beverage and carried my cup with me.

With about a mile to go, I caught up to Joel, who was doing the 6-day race.  I met Joel Sunday morning at breakfast.  I saw him on the course every day, and we always asked each other how we were doing.  I walked the last mile of the race with Joel.  At this point, I knew I had a safe lead.

I didn’t run again until I was within sight of the finish line.  I finished in 5:41:16.  That’s about 10 minutes slower than yesterday, but mostly because I walked the last mile.  It was still good enough for another third place finish.

All through the race, I never noticed the soreness in my back.  I didn’t notice it again until I got back to the hotel.  After a long soak in the tub, it felt better.

Much later in the day, I discovered that the second place runner only beat me by about six and a half minutes.  Had I run my last lap instead of walking with Joel, there's a good chance I would've finished in second place.  I have no regrets.

I’m done with my races, but I still have one more challenge.  I fly home tomorrow, and I have to figure out how to fit everything in my suitcase.  In the last six days, I’ve accumulated six medals, five trophies, a belt buckle, a T-shirt, and a glass mug.  It helps that I’m leaving two pairs of shoes behind.

Race statistics:

Distance:  26.8 miles

Time:  5:41:16

Average Pace:  12:44 per mile

First Half:  2:37:37

Second Half:  3:03:39

Marathons/Ultras in 2026:  2

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  574

Lifetime ATY Miles:  543.65

Race Report: Across the Years January 1 Marathon

Happy New Year!

Today was my fifth consecutive day running a marathon at Across the Years.  I already accomplished my primary goal, which was to run a quadzilla in Arizona.  I’m doing the last two races because I’m already her, so why not?

It’s easy to say that when you’re signing up for a race, but it’s more difficult in practice.  This morning, I had that “what was I thinking?” moment.

It took a while to get to sleep last night.  I woke up during the night, and then it took a while to get back to sleep.  When I got up this morning, I was dragging.  It was the second straight night that I didn’t get enough sleep.  I was also feeling the cumulative fatigue from the last four days.

The last four days were dry, but today there was rain in the forecast.  When I left the hotel, I could see that it had rained during the night.  It wasn’t raining when I started running, but I had to be prepared for passing showers during the race.

There’s a heated tent right next to the starting line, and I’ve been in the habit of sitting there while I’m waiting to start the race.  Today, I couldn’t do that.  Now that the last person standing race is going on, this tent is reserved for those runners.  Instead, I waited in my car for as long as possible before walking to the starting line.

I brought a plastic rain poncho, but I left that in my car.  I started the race with a Tyvek jacket tied it around my waist.  If we had a brief shower, my jacket would always be handy.  If we had a longer period of rain, I would need to detour to my car to get the poncho.

I always keep a large cup at the food tent.  I fill it with different beverages at different times.  The first time I stopped at the aid station, I filled it with Coke.  I had mixed feelings about that.  On one hand, I really needed the caffeine to wake up.  The downside was that the caffeine would also make me pee, and frequent bathroom stops would make it more difficult to establish a consistent pace.

It was probably psychological, but as soon as I took my first drink of Coke, I felt energized.  I normally start taking walking breaks in my second lap.  I did walk up the two short ramps in the stadium, but where I usually take a longer walking break, I kept running.  I did that for my first three laps.

I started the race with gloves, but by my fourth lap, I was sufficiently warmed up that I could take them off.  I also starting walking on the long section of sidewalk that comes just before we get to the parking lot, near the end of each lap.

Drinking Coke for four laps didn’t have any adverse effect.  I only needed one bathroom stop in the first half of the race.

Physically, I was feeling OK, but mentally, I was still feeling the lack of sleep.  I’ve run so many laps of this course that every turn is programmed into my brain.  Still, there were times when I felt like I was in a trance.

There were areas where runners and their crews could set up tents and tables.  Until today, every available space was taken.  By late morning, I started to notice that the tents and tables were starting to disappear.

The marathon is the only distance where there was a new race each day.  For the fixed-time races and the longer fixed-distance races, you could choose which day to start, but you were competing with people who started on other days.  With the exception of the 6-day race, most people seemed to choose a start day that had them finishing this morning.  That allowed them to enjoy the New Year’s Eve festivities on the last night of their race.  By the time I started my race this morning, all of those runners had finished.

For the past few days, I’ve been eating food every fifth lap.  Today, I waited until my seventh lap.  By then, I was almost one third done.  My first snack was an egg and veggie casserole.  I had to walk while I ate it, so that lap took longer.

We started out with clouds, but now the sun came out.  Almost immediately, running got more tiring.  I still kept up the same proportion of running and walking, but my pace slowed down.

Every day, I’ve been slower than the day before.  I thought that trend might reverse today.  At the halfway point, I was actually a few seconds faster than yesterday.  Yesterday, I slowed down substantially in the second half.  I expected to slow down today too, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be as much.

I occasionally noticed what place I was in.  I was always 6th overall and 4th among men.  There are awards for the top three men and the top three women.  In theory, I could win an award if I could pass one of the men who was ahead of me.  I wasn’t optimistic.  I was slowing down.  The only way I’d move into the top three is if someone else slowed down more.

Early in the second half of the race, it got cloudy again.  Then I felt some light drizzle as I was running around the stadium.  It didn’t last long enough for the pavement to get wet.

On my next lap, I started to feel drizzle again.  This time it lasted longer.  I considered putting on my jacket, but I wanted to wait until I was on a walking break.  I couldn’t easily do it while I was running.  Instead, I put on my gloves.

By the time I reached the area where I took my long walking break, the rain had stopped.  I didn’t need my jacket yet.

When I was almost two thirds done with the race, I saw that they had grilled cheese and tomato soup at the aid station.  That hit the spot.

As I left the food tent and turned the corner, I felt drizzle again.  I also felt a cold breeze.  I needed my jacket, but I was hoping to hold out until it was time for a walking break.  This time the rain was too hard for that.  I was getting wet, so I had to stop to untie my jacket and put it on.

There were timing stations in two places.  One was as the start/finish line.  The other was at the farthest corner of the course.  Each time I passed one, I briefly unzipped my jacket to make sure the transponder could detect the chip on my race bib.  Each time, I felt the front of my shirt getting wet.

The rain lasted for about a lap and a half.  After it stopped, I was able to take off my jacket and tie it around my waist again.

As usual, the remaining laps seemed longer than they really were.  I was tempted to do more walking, but I didn’t want to be that slow.  I just wanted to get done.

With three laps to go, I saw something unexpected.  I had moved up in the standings.  Now, I was fourth overall and third among men.  That changed everything.  Now I was willing to push to hold onto third place.

I still took short walking breaks on the ramps, but I stopped taking the longer walking break near the end of each lap.  I don’t think I could’ve done that with four or five laps left.  With three laps left, I could.

I was in my second-to-last lap when one of the 6-day runners asked me if I was having fun.  I said, “Now I am!”  For at least half of the race, I wasn’t having fun, but now I was focused on a goal.  That’s a game-changer for me.  I wasn’t just trying to drag myself through this race because I signed up for it and I was here.

I eventually finished in 5:31:35.  I was slower than yesterday, but I got an award for third place.  More important was that I actually enjoyed those last three laps.

After finishing, I waited long enough to see the start of the next lap for the runners in the last person standing race.  When I started my race this morning, there were still ten runners in that race.  Now, there were only five.  It’ll be interesting to see how many make it through another night.

Race statistics:

Distance:  26.8 miles

Time:  5:31:35

Average Pace:  12:22 per mile

First Half:  2:38:05

Second Half:  2:53:30

Marathons/Ultras in 2026:  1

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  573

Lifetime ATY Miles:  516.85

Race Report: Across the Years December 31 Marathon

Today was day four of Across the Years.  My motivation for doing marathons each day instead of one of the fixed-time ultras was to run a quadzilla in Arizona.  To do that, I needed to run marathons on four consecutive days.  Today was the day I was completing my quadzilla, so I wore a T-shirt from the Seattle Quadzilla.

I’ve been waking up before my alarm every day.  Today, I was up much earlier than usual, so I decided to do a strength training workout before breakfast.  I have a routine that I normally do three times a week, but I had not done these exercises since Saturday.  I’m always too wiped out after running a marathon.  I thought doing a workout in the morning might be a good way to start getting some blood flow into my muscles.  It seemed to work.  After my workout, my legs felt normal for the first time since Sunday.

This course has long sections that are dirt.  Even with gaiters, a certain amount of dust will gradually work its way into your shoes.  I’ve been wearing the same pair of shoes for the last three days, so today I switched to a clean pair.

The weather was similar to the last few days.  It was upper 50s at the start with a forecast high in the low 70s.  I was once again hoping for clouds in the afternoon.

I didn’t do any walking in my first lap, because I was feeling chilly.  I needed to run until I got warmed up.

Starting with my second lap, I did the same run/walk mix as yesterday.  I walked two short ramps going through the stadium, and I also walked a section of sidewalk that comes later in the loop.  Everywhere else I ran, but at a relaxed pace.

Yesterday, I noticed early in the race that I was in the lead.  Today, I did my best to avoid looking, so I wouldn’t get too caught up in competing.

I always start the race wearing gloves, but I usually take them off after a lap or two.  Today, I ran three laps before I was ready to take my gloves off.  It was cloudy, and there was a bit of a breeze.

One of the cool things about this race is seeing all of the accomplished ultrarunners who are doing the 6-day race.  Some of them I’ve met before, like John Geesler and Ed Ettinghousen.  This year, there was a new face.

On Sunday, I saw a woman moving around the course slowly using a walker.  I didn’t know who she was at first.  The next time I saw her, I got glimpse of the name on her race bib.  It was Ann Trason.

Ann is a living legend.  She was winning races and setting course records when I first started running ultras.  Among other things, she won the Western States Endurance Run 14 times!

Over the last few days, I’ve noticed that several other runners had their race bibs signed by Ann.  Today, I had my opportunity.  I happened to reach the aid station when Ann was there, and a saw a sharpie on the table.  When she was done talking to another runner, I asked Ann if she would sign my race bib.  She said she would sign mine if I signed hers.  She had obviously made the same deal with dozens of runners.  Her race bib was covered with autographs.  We each signed each other’s race bibs, and then I got on my way again.

Since Monday, I’ve been eating solid food during every fifth lap.  I started doing that so I would have more than just liquid in my digestive system.  I’ve found since that what food I eat is less important than the psychological benefit of segmenting the race and having something to look forward to.

During my fifth lap, I ate a breakfast burrito.  Rather than eat it while moving, I stayed at the aid station long enough to finish eating it.  Because I spent so much time at the aid station, I skipped my last walking break that lap.

My longest walking break was on a sidewalk that I call the “Avenue of Flags,” because it’s lined with state flags on both sides.

In my sixth lap, I was feeling the cool breeze more, and my hands started to get cold.  I considered skipping my walking break at the “Avenue of Flags.”  Instead, I ran about half of it and only walked the other half.

One lap later, my hand were still cold, so I had to put gloves on again.  I talked to another runner who had the same experience.

I reached the halfway mark in the middle of my 10th lap.  I was about one minute slower than yesterday.  When I finished that lap, I finally looked to see what place I was in.  I was 11th overall and 7th among men.  Yesterday, going at about the same pace, I was winning.  Obviously, today’s race had a more competitive field.

Toward the end of my next lap, I was passed by a runner who had already lapped me earlier.  I was talking to him before the race, so I knew he was also doing the marathon.  I sped up enough to stay with him for the rest of that lap, because I wanted to see what place he was in.

When we each crossed the line, I looked for his name to come up on the timing display.  I was shocked to see he was the 5th place male.  He was 2.8 miles ahead of me, yet he was two places off the podium.  At this point, it was pretty obvious that I wouldn’t come anywhere close to placing in this race.

Knowing that was kind of liberating.  Instead of pushing the pace, I could just take it easy for the rest of the race, knowing my time didn’t really matter.

After that, I cruised through my laps at a slower pace.  I wasn’t doing any more walking, but my running became more of a slow shuffle.

About this time, I started to feel drops.  It was only sprinkling, and it didn’t last long, but I never had to worry about getting hot today.  It stayed cloudy all afternoon.

Besides the fixed-time and fixed-distance races, there was also a last person standing race.  That race started today at noon.  The runners in that race needed to run a 1.41-mile lap every 20 minutes.  That had the potential to create some extra congestion near the start/finish line if I happened to come through when those runners were lining up to start their next lap.

As it turns out, that never happened.  At first, I was coming through a few minutes before they started their next lap, so I would see those runners resting in the heated tent next to the starting line.

My laps were never as slow as 20 minutes, so I gradually came through farther ahead of their start times.

Paradoxically, the slower I got, the more tiring my laps felt.  Maybe it’s because I had no sense of urgency.  My brain wasn’t in “race mode.”  Without that sense of urgency, I was probably more apt to notice the cumulative fatigue from running four marathons.  It’s also possible I was feeling the effect of waking up at 3 AM.

It wasn’t until my last two laps that I started to pick up the pace again.  I skipped my last two walking breaks, not because I cared about my time, but just because I wanted to get done.

I finished in 5:26:44.  I didn’t win an award, but I earned something else.  Anyone completing a multiple of 100 miles receives a belt buckle.  Most people do in a single race.  I did it by running four marathons.

I also completed my Arizona quadzilla.  Now I’ve run quadzillas in 10 different states.  To join the 50 States Marathon Club, you need to finish marathons in at least 10 states.  I’ve often joked that if I could run quadzillas in 10 states, I could be the founding member of the 50 States Quadzilla Club.

Tonight is New Year’s Eve.  For runners who are on the course tonight, there will be festivities at midnight.  I won’t be staying up.  I have another race tomorrow morning, so I need to get as much sleep as I can.

Race statistics:

Distance:  26.8 miles

Time:  5:26:44

Average Pace:  12:11 per mile

First Half:  2:38:08

Second Half:  2:48:36

Marathons/Ultras in 2025:  37

Lifetime Marathons/Ultras:  572

Lifetime ATY Miles:  490.05

Quadzilla States:  10