2024 Umstead 100
TUFF Run Club @ The Umstead 100. Photo: Cameron Martz
We pulled into our designated parking area just after 5 AM with a little over an hour until the official start of the 2024 Umstead 100. This was the first 100-miler where I had both my wife Christa, and my daughter Callie with me, so the vibe was already special. That special vibe was amplified due to the huge numbers of TUFF Run Club runners and crew, other local running friends that would be running, crewing, and volunteering, and the fact that Umstead is a park that I live so close to and run in so often. Simply put—toeing the line on this one felt different.
The hour before the start flew by faster than it usually does as I said hello to so many familiar faces. In the final minutes of anticipation, we gathered the TUFF Run Club down by race headquarters for a group photo. I kissed Christa and Callie, they said some final words of encouragement, and then I disappeared into the large group of runners waiting for the countdown.
“3…2…1…GO!”
At this point, I should probably familiarize you with the course description. Due to some unexpected bridge repair within William B. Umstead State Park, the race directors (Chris Squires and Rhonda Hampton) were forced to develop a new course for this year. The 2024 course had us on the Reedy Creek MUT (Multiuse Trail) for about 97% of the race, minus the short section of gravel road and trail that leads you into Camp Lapihio (race headquarters/Aid Station 1). We would leave Camp Lapihio, turn right onto the Reedy Creek MUT and make our way about a mile before a turnaround point (Airport Spur) head back down the Reedy Creek MUT, passing the entrance to Camp Lapihio, and keep going down the Reedy Creek MUT for almost 5 miles until reaching a turnaround point at Aid Station 2. We’d then go back down the Reedy Creek MUT, turning right into Camp Lapihio, running through a chute of canopies, crew, and spectators, returning to race headquarters/Aid Station 1. This is considered 1 lap on the course, and to finish the Umstead 100, runners must complete 8 laps in under 30 hours.
2024 Umstead 100 Course
We made our way up the gravel road heading out from Camp Lapihio and onto the MUT, and I was doing my best to pace around a 10:00-10:30 min/mile. My A goal for this race was to finish in under 20 hours, my B goal was under 22 hours, and my C goal was under 24 hours. Regardless of the finishing time, I really just wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything too stupid to where a finish would not be achieved, but if I could PR my 100-mile here, that would be cool.
Within the first 1/4 mile, I found myself running with Derek Fox, a local running buddy whom I hadn’t seen in some time, so we chatted for a bit and caught up on life. Derek is a solid runner with legs faster than mine, but he told me how he just wanted to have fun and hopefully come in under 20 hours. I told him his idea of a fun run is my A goal, so hopefully we’d be sharing a lot of miles together if all went well. After 4 miles or so, I felt like I was going a bit too hard too early, so I stopped to pee and told Derek I’d see him in a bit.
I spent the next few miles mostly by myself, just listening to the birds waking up in the park and being grateful for the rising sun in the early morning sky. I approached the first true hill on the course, just after a big downhill section, and I chose to take my time and walk the uphill. Shortly after I reached the top of the hill, the frontrunners were approaching me from the opposite direction. They had already hit the turnaround at Aid Station 2, which meant they were a little over 3 miles ahead of me already—they were flying! The elites of this sport never cease to amaze me with their abilities.
Eventually, I hit the turnaround at Aid Station 2, sharing a lot of positive exchanges with friends and smiling strangers as we passed each other during this condensed out-and-back section. Somebody said “That’s a bad man right there” as he passed me, but I couldn’t make out who it was in the shuffle, and I wasn’t 100% sure he was talking about me.
The way back to Camp Lapihio was uneventful, but very well-paced. As I came running through the chute, Christa, Callie, and the rest of my crew were lively and loud, giving me a burst of energy as I made my way to headquarters. I grabbed some food and fluids and made my way back up the chute to quickly check in with my crew and make some slight adjustments to my gear. I grabbed my headphones and headed back out for lap 2.
Lap 2 was me and my music. Lots of smiles, “good jobs”, and waves as runners kept passing by each other from each direction on the course. It was cool to see so many people and have so many opportunities to encourage each other.
As I approached the turnaround at Aid Station 2, I heard the same voice that said “That’s a bad man right there” say something similar again. This time, I was sure he said it to me because we were the only two people passing each other at the time, but I still didn’t get a good glimpse of who it was. I think I just shouted “Keep it up, bro!” or something like that.
On the return to Camp Lapihio, I made a new trail friend, Amy, and we got to talking about family, racing, and other fun stuff. She told me how she signed up for the 100 but was only going to run 50 because she didn’t have the best training, and how her one child—now a doctor—used to think it was “human beans” instead of “human beings”. I thought that was pretty funny. We ran a solid 5-6 miles together, all the way back through the chute at headquarters.
More food, more fluids, and a quick check-in with my crew. This time, my good friend Phil had stopped by and was hanging with Christa and Callie. It was really cool of him to stop by and wish me well, especially because I only got to see him for a minute before I made my way out for lap 3.
Photo: Dennis Geiser
I was now 25 miles into the race and I was pacing consistently, but maybe a little too fast. I still felt great, so I convinced myself I had built up a little margin and would back off a bit to save myself as the day went on. A mile into lap 3, there was the guy who had been calling me a bad man. I got a good look and I finally recognized him. It was my friend John Guerra! I hadn’t seen John in over 2 years. He used to join a local early morning group run I hosted a few years ago, but enlisted in the Navy and disappeared. John is a tough-as-nails no bullshit kind of guy, the kind of guy you want in your corner when you need to do some hard shit, so I was so grateful to cross paths with him out here. It turns out that he was on a 2-week leave and came back to the States to spend some time with his family and squeeze in the Umstead 100.
John and I ran the next 2 laps together, either talking or listening to our headphones in our own worlds, but holding each other accountable to run the runnable sections and walk all of the uphills.
I was back with my crew after 4 laps, 50 miles in, and I needed to lay for a minute to stretch. I was still well ahead of pace, knocking my first 50 out in a little over 9 hours, which was a 50-mile PR for me, but I knew the second half of my race was going to need to be a bit slower. The sun would be going down in a couple of hours, the temperature would be dropping significantly, and I was starting to question if I was nauseous or not. Side note: if you have to question if you are nauseous or not, it’s probably a sign that you are nauseous.
I left my crew and started my 5th lap. I began this lap with the intention of slowing down and enjoying the experience. No headphones, no one to run with—just me, nature, and my unsettled stomach. I did a lot more walking on this lap than I did in the previous 4, and I was ok with it. When I got to the turnaround at Aid Station 2, I sat for a few minutes and took my time with trying to get some calories and fluid in me. On my way back to Camp Lapihio, I could feel the claws of negativity and darkness trying to get a hold of me, but I kept searching for gratitude. I was lucky enough to find it, but I was walking a metaphorical tightrope.
I was back with Christa and Callie, and the sun was starting to set. I changed some of my wet gear, put on some warmer things, grabbed my headlamp, and sat for a few. I ate what I could, but nothing seemed appetizing at the moment, so I grabbed a few ginger chews for my pocket. Callie was lying next to me in a sleeping bag, and it looked so inviting. The longer I stayed there, the more dangerous it became, so I peeled myself out of the chair, and slowly got moving back onto the course.
Everything hurt as I started lap 6. The cumulative effects of running such a strong first half were definitely coming back to bite me in the ass now. I should be experienced enough at this point in my racing to know when I’m going out too hot early on, and I do know, I just disregarded it. Oh well. I was still making great time, but as I was doing some trail math, I started to think that maybe I should let go of my A goal and shift my focus to my B goal.
Almost halfway through lap 6, I realized a huge error in my overall strategy: no pacers. I don’t know if it’s a pride thing, or not wanting to be a burden on people, or a combination of both, but generally speaking, I don’t usually seek out pacers for my races. But, as I traversed the course on lap 6, observing all the runners laughing, talking, and creating memories with their pacers, I started to feel lonely and foolish.
I was about 5 miles from Camp Lapihio when I crossed paths with my friend Tara Wind. Apparently, she just wrapped up pacing duties for a friend of hers and she was out on the course seeing if she could find me. At least that’s what I think she told me. Whatever her story was, it didn’t matter, I was just so glad to see her and welcomed the company as she agreed to pace me back to headquarters. She kept the conversation light and funny, as I’m sure she could tell I was struggling a bit. But the miles ticked by as my morale improved.
We returned to headquarters, I grabbed more food and fluids and made my way over to where Christa was sitting. Callie was asleep by now, looking so peaceful, and I told Christa that the final 2 laps would be a grind, but I wanted her to try to get some sleep and I’d call her when I was about an hour away from the finish. Based on how slow lap 6 went, I let her know that my A goal was no longer achievable and that I would push for my B goal, but ultimately, as long as nothing catastrophic happened, a sub-24-hour finish was a sure thing. Tara let me know that she’d pace me out to the Airport Spur, and then I’d be on my own from there. I graciously accepted her offer and we took off, very slowly, for the start of my 7th lap.
Lap 7 was another lonely one, but I had my headphones again and I put on some standup comedy to keep me smiling and engaged. It was completely dark out now, so I was falling into headlamp hypnosis, but a shot of Red Bull back at Camp Lapihio started to do its job. I was walking a lot more, watching the time of my miles grow. I didn’t care too much, I was just focused on making it to the turnaround at Aid Station 2. I still had my downhill legs, so I’d run every downhill as they came, but the uphills were proving to be much more difficult than I had expected.
When I made it to Aid Station 2, I decided to take a seat to try and eat some calories. I was talking with my friend Ryan Hampton when suddenly my vision became black. I was getting increasingly dizzy and I was struggling to hear what he was saying. I started sweating profusely as I thought to myself, “I’m passing out.” After what felt like a few seconds, my vision came back, and a medic was standing in front of me asking me questions about how much salt I had. I was still dizzy, but I was coherent. I told her how I ate a lot of salty foods but she insisted that I take 2 salt pills. I obliged and within 3 minutes I felt like a new man. “That was weird," I said to Ryan, and he agreed while educating me on the importance of salt and the consequences of not taking in enough. I decided to sit there for another 10 minutes to ensure I was in a good place to continue when my friend Scott Perry came over and told me he’d pace me back to headquarters because he needed to get over there anyway. I considered myself so lucky and took him up on the offer, and I’m glad that I did because, within minutes of leaving the aid station, I started shivering uncontrollably from the sweat and the drop in temperature. Scott had an extra jacket in his pack, and he offered it to me. I had no choice other than to take it, but honestly, I don’t know what I would have done had he not been there. I very likely would have become hypothermic and easily could have DNFd my race.
Scott talked to me about his recent experience at the GDR (Georgia Death Race), and we talked about how cool it is that his mom Betty is signed up for the Sugg Farm Ultra this year. We talked about how amazing the ultrarunning community is and how impressive some of the runners on the course were—from first-timers to Umstead veterans. We moved relatively well, all things considered, as he continued to encourage me. Before long, we were entering the chute at headquarters, and I made my way to Aid Station 1. I saw Chris Coker and John Goldfield, both volunteering at the aid station, and they stocked me up with coffee and pancakes. I took my meal into headquarters and sat down to enjoy it for a few minutes. Eric Gainer was in there, fresh off a very stout sub-20-hour finish—a PR for him—so, we chatted, I congratulated him, and Scott reminded me that I needed to get going. Scott told me he’d pace me to the Airport Spur and back to the entrance of Camp Lapihio, and then I’d be on my own for the final miles of my race. Again, I was grateful and accepted his offer.
We got moving, and I tried to run more than I walked, with some success. He broke off and cheered me on as I thanked him and continued on my journey to my final stop at Aid Station 2. I ran everything except the uphills, at least that’s what it felt like, listening to more standup comedy as I did my best to smile. I made my way down to Aid Station 2 passing many slow-moving headlamps along the way. I stopped for a few minutes at the aid station, just long enough to say some final words to some very helpful friends. I said a few hundred “thank yous” and got on my way. I was on the final stretch to the finish and nothing would stop me now.
My B goal was no longer feasible, but if I kept moving at the pace I was going, I would easily finish my race in under 23 hours, which would still be a strong 100-mile PR for me, so that was my new target. I ran through a few different mantras in my head and did my best to block out the pain. I was singularly focused on finishing.
I came into Camp Lapihio and started to make my way down the final chute. Scott Perry emerged, iPhone in hand, and he captured my final moments to the finish as I opened up my pace and pushed with everything I had left in the tank. I ran strong in those final moments and crossed the finish line in 22:49. Over an hour improvement on my previous 100-mile PR. Within seconds of crossing the finish line, Callie ran up to me and gave me the best hug and I looked up to see Christa standing there taking a video. Happiness and fulfillment rushed through me as the 3 of us stood there. I collected my sub-24-hour buckle from Chris Squires, and then we walked into headquarters to finally relax.
What an experience.
