Uwharrie 100 (2023)

My alarm startled me at 4 a.m. as I awoke lying in the passenger seat of my wife’s Volkswagen Jetta. I was alone, surrounded by all my gear and supplies, and I felt great as excitement rushed through me. The day was finally here—it was time to run the Uwharrie 100.

I climbed out of my sleeping bag and got myself dressed for the adventure ahead and then I walked over to where my friends Gui and Kaleb were camped out. They were already awake, brewing coffee and making some food. Kaleb was also running the 100, and Gui was there to crew and pace him. We sipped our coffee and joked around as time moved in hyperspeed. 

At 5:40, all the 100-mile and 100-kilometer runners gathered near the start/finish area to receive the final race briefing from race director, Ryan Hampton. Before I move on, I want to acknowledge what an amazing job Ryan and his wife and co-race director Meghaan do with the Uwharrie 100. From handwriting personal notes on the back of every runner’s race bib, to having their son handcraft a special award for the person who earns DFL (dead freaking last) in the 100, to having the best-stocked aid stations I’ve ever experienced—their attention to detail and consideration of the runners is second to none. I appreciate you both so much! The ultrarunning community is lucky to have you in it.

The clock struck 6 a.m. and we all funneled onto the Dutchman’s Creek Trail to begin our 1st of 5 loops. Well, I guess they’re not really loops, but more like figure-8s. If you’re not familiar with the Uwharrie 100, it consists of 5 completions of a figure-8 course that is 100% East Coast single-track and boasts anywhere from 18,000-21,000ft (depending on your watch) of elevation gain and similar loss. It’s a real doozy and a formidable challenge for any ultrarunner, regardless of experience.

I had been building this race up in my mind for so long and couldn’t believe I was brave and confident enough to actually test myself against it, but here I was, starting my journey. My training leading up to it was so strong and consistent, so I rationalized with myself that I could do it, and likely do it well if I stuck to a smart but honest strategy. My plan was to try and average 5-hour laps for the 1st 3 laps, and then check in with my body and mind heading into laps 4 and 5 while adjusting accordingly. My main goal was to finish the race and earn my buckle, but a sub-30-hour finish would have been awesome. 

Lap 1 was so smooth and easy. I chose to only take my handheld for this lap to avoid carrying too much weight early on in the race. I spent the first 11 miles talking with Kaleb and sharing stories of loss, faith, family, and other topics. It was great to get to know him better, and I’m grateful for his willingness to listen. I wished him well at Kelly’s Kitchen aid station, and took off from there just flowing on the course. The miles were moving along quickly and my effort felt just how it needed to. I finished the lap in just under 5 hours. Great lap.

Lap 2 felt similar to lap 1, only the sun was now in the middle of the sky. The course was warming up, which I appreciated because I hate being cold. I traded my handheld for my vest for this lap, but I probably had too much stuff packed in my vest. You really don’t need to carry many calories for this race because they do such an amazing job of stocking the aid stations with all the food you could want or need. Anyway, I was still moving great, eating well, and hydrating regularly. Everything was going according to plan as I finished the lap in just under 5 hours. Another great lap.

Lap 3 felt a little bit different. I could feel some aggression increasing inside me. I was so thrilled with how good the day was going for me and I could see that the course was starting to wear down some of the other runners, so I decided to start making some little pushes to try and improve my position in the field. I moved up from somewhere outside of the top 10 all the way up to 6th place at one point. I was feeling so confident and strong, but I knew that nightfall was fast approaching and things would get interesting once we were all enveloped in the darkness. I finished the lap in just over 5 hours. Another great lap.

I took a few minutes at the start/finish before heading out on lap 4. It was now dark and cold, energy levels were a bit depleted, and the comfort of heat from the fire was hard to walk away from. But, despite some minor exhaustion and banged-up feet, I felt pretty damn good starting lap 4. I was entranced by the 2-dimensional nature of running with a headlamp in the dark when I clipped my left foot on a protruding root that sent me supermanning downhill. I stopped the fall with my chest and right hand, but when I stood up I could feel my left ankle swelling almost immediately. I’ve rolled my ankles so many times before while running, and usually after the initial pain and shock, I can find a rhythm and run through it within minutes. This was not the same. I couldn’t put much weight on my left foot, and trying to run downhill was excruciating. I began having what I wouldn’t describe as a panic attack, but something very similar. Negativity and disappointment washed through me as I began to accept what was happening to me and my race. I was 60 miles into a 100-mile trail race, and I was going to have to push through the remaining 40 miles on an injured foot and ankle. Quitting wasn’t an option, so I moved forward, one painful step at a time. I stopped at each of the 3 aid stations, taking time to sit by the fires, give my foot a rest, and get support from the incredible volunteers. Luckily my friends Matt and Scott were volunteering during this shift at the Crossroads aid station, and they were able to provide me with some positivity and good care. I took some acetaminophen and ibuprofen, hoping it’d take the edge off, and I eventually made it back to the start/finish in just over 9 and a half hours. What a shitty lap.

While sitting at the start/finish procrastinating the initiation of my 5th and final lap, I got to witness the 1st place finisher Chase Price come through at just under 24 hours—what a beast! I couldn’t tell if it was motivating or defeating for me at that moment, but all I knew was that the longer I sat there waiting, the colder I was getting and the stiffer and more painful my left foot was becoming. I had to get out of the chair and finish my race.

I set out for lap 5 with great intentions. I told myself that knowing that it was my last lap and that the sun was coming up, it would revitalize me and make for a quicker and potentially less painful lap than the previous one. Sometimes in life we can bullshit ourselves and get away with it—unfortunately that doesn’t work 80+ miles into a brutal ultramarathon when you are injured. So, I continued to plod forward, gritting my teeth and fighting back tears. The only focus I had in my mind was to make it to the next aid station and to keep moving forward to the next one after that. Little by little, step by step, I was chipping away at the miles. Other runners were passing me, but I no longer cared. I was determined to finish my race regardless of who was ahead of me or how long it would take me. I finally made it back to Kelly’s Kitchen aid station just over 91 miles, and knew that all I needed to do was make it back to the finish now. 9 miles separated me from my buckle and from continuing to damage myself any further. As I exited Kelly’s Kitchen, I thanked all the volunteers for all of their help, and I’m not sure if they could hear me getting choked up as I was saying it, but as soon as I turned away from them I started crying quietly, but uncontrollably. It was a raw moment of overwhelm catalyzed by a combination of gratitude, pain, and pride. It’s worth noting that I was also beginning to hallucinate quite a bit—mistaking large boulders for tents, logs for women with strollers, and leaves on the ground for giant tarantulas. Also, I became aware that I was no longer just thinking loudly inside my head, but I was actively talking to myself and questioning myself for why I was doing it. Things got pretty strange. By the time I reached mile 96, I was becoming angry, cursing at every rock I tripped on and growling every time I made a painful step downhill. I was wearing down, but so was my remaining time on the course. I emerged from the forest and crossed the finish line in 32:06, somehow in 10th place overall. I was greeted immediately by Ryan with a big smile, a bigger hug, and a beautiful buckle. Meghaan was there to congratulate me and give me a big hug too. I crashed onto a cot, and tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t. I was so ecstatic because, despite the pain that I had just endured for what seemed like an eternity, I could now claim I was something that I was not just 32 hours before: I became a Uwharrie 100 finisher!

Me and Ryan after I came through the finish.

Me and Kaleb with our buckles.

My foot the morning after.