Dirt Dash Trail Marathon (2019)

We arrived at Johns Island, SC just before the sun went down. Luckily for us, we avoided having to set our tent up in the rain as we opted to camp in the back of my truck.

I awoke at 4 a.m., shivering and restless, focusing on the orchestra of droplets bouncing off the roof of my truck’s camper shell. I remained motionless for what felt like an hour, eyes shut hoping to doze off, but when I checked my watch only 10 minutes had passed. My alarm was originally set for 6 a.m., but the impending alert has been deemed unnecessary.

I laid around, thinking until the first hint of dawn’s light came creeping over the horizon. Time to make some coffee.

The pre-race chatter and duties all advanced quickly and I now find myself in the crowd of runners waiting for the final countdown to start.

3…2…1… and we’re off!

The format for the Dirt Dash Trail Marathon is 4 loops of a 6.6-mile trail that traverses through dirt, mud, mulch, and grassy farmland, showing off the beauty of the subtropical flora that is distinctive to the Charleston area.

My strategy was to pace comfortably for the first 2 laps, pick up my pace in the 3rd lap and then put everything I had left into the final lap.

I veered from my plan almost immediately.

I found myself going a little too fast on the first lap, but it felt good, so as I came through the aid station and began the second lap I decided to maintain this faster-than-planned pace. I was still feeling great and I was beginning to pass some of the runners that were at the front of the pack.

I spent a lot of energy trying to pass a specific strong group and once I did I decided I wasn’t going to lose my position. I maintained all the way through the second lap at which point I noticed that this group had all stepped off to the side at the aid station and were receiving medals…

They were running the half marathon, not the full marathon (which I was). I couldn’t decipher who was running the full or the half since the start of the race and now I had been coaxed into battling it out (due to my ego) with a few runners who were only going half the distance that I was. This was poor decision-making on my part, as I was pushing way too hard way too early and certainly was not out there “running my own race”.

Oh well.

But this sparked a new thought, “am I leading this marathon?” I hadn’t seen anyone ahead of the group that I was chasing, but I knew there was a decent-sized pack behind me. I asked the race director, “how many more are ahead of me”. He responds, “one”.

I begin my 3rd lap and take off with a purpose.

My goal is to catch the front-runner and not let them out of my sight. I am redlining and I know this isn’t sustainable, but it’s a race and I am having fun. I start to lose myself in the music and my rhythmic breathing.

I was feeling great.

And then I wasn’t.

I was almost at the conclusion of my 3rd lap when my pace started to slow, against my desire to continue going faster. I was going to hit the wall, and it was going to happen soon.

I get to the aid station and I see my wife Christa. I tell her, “I’m not going to make it in under 3:30”. That was my original goal. I also hadn’t seen the front-runner throughout the entire 3rd lap, despite my attempts to chase and catch up. This let me know that 1st place was probably out of reach judging by my current position and the reality that I was going to crash and burn in this final lap. My confidence is waning and my will to press on is being hindered by my negative self-talk.

After some brief chatter and another gel, I head out for the 4th and final lap. I make sure to get far enough away from the aid station so that nobody can see me, and then it happened. I began to walk and dry heave. The pain in my legs, the burning in my lungs, and nausea from the gels all combined into one big BONK!

I didn’t want to accept it, but I knew it was coming. The silver lining is that I had pushed myself harder than usual and I was able to stave it off for 21 miles. This is noticeable progress for me that I cannot deny. However, I still had 5+ miles to go, and this was beginning to feel like an ugly conclusion to an overall great race.

I’m trying to stay positive and making deals with myself to keep up the relentless forward motion. Whether fast or slow, I’m going to make it, but I’d like to be going faster than this.

I run, slowly, for about another mile, and then I begin walking again. I am passed by a runner who looks super strong at this point in the race and I realize that I’m just barely hanging on at this point. Little did I know, she would go on to win the marathon. Little did she know, she gave me the extra kick in the ass I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and to dig a little deeper into the pain cave.

I dug as deep as I could. I was running as strong as I could.

2 miles to the finish. Everything hurts, and I haven’t seen another runner in miles. I am confident I am in 3rd place if I’ve been paying attention. This feels good, but it is also driving me mad that I can’t find the extra gear needed to advance with more vigor.

“1 mile to the finish. A sub 3:30 finish is no longer on the table. Neither is winning the race. But I can at least hold my position here and finish in the top 3. Why the hell am I walking right now? Just finish the damn race. Finish strong!”

I came plodding through the finish line with as much speed and form as I had left.

2nd Male Finisher, 3rd Overall.

Official Garmin stats: Time = 3:46:24, Distance = 26.12 mi, Elevation Gain = 154 ft.