They say the 3rd time’s the charm, but sometimes they’re wrong.

I made my way to Wilmington, NC for my 3rd attempt at the Southern Tour Ultra: Last Man Standing race with the goal of reaching 120+ miles in the Backyard Ultra format. This would have been a PR distance for me, a new record on this course, and would likely have been enough miles to secure a win over the rest of the field. Spoiler alert—things didn’t quite work out that way.

I arrived at 5:30 PM on Friday, 1/19, just a couple hours before the 8:00 PM start time. The weather was a balmy 20°F adding to the inevitable struggle we would all soon endure. I found my crew, the mighty TUFF Run Club, and killed some time with coffee and cookies.

55 of us toed the line to start, and we set off into the cold night ready to slay our demons and see how far we could push ourselves.

I spent the first few hours running with my friend and running buddy, Spencer, and our new friend Tara. We settled into a solid strategy right from the get-go, mixing in periods of walking and never going too fast to help conserve our legs. We had a target of getting to the 3-mile mark of the 4.167-mile course by 40 minutes each loop which would give us 15 minutes to wrap up the final 1.167 miles and just about 5 minutes of rest and aid before starting the next lap at the top of each hour. We were professional—hitting our target like clockwork.

The hours ticked by as we joked, laughed, talked about food, shared personal stories, and annoyed the other runners with our banter. It was the most fun I can recall having during any race that I have run. As dawn rolled in, Tara declared that she was ready to call it and a slight sadness struck Spencer and me. We were losing a member of our tribe, and the race was becoming increasingly more challenging.

We were treated to a beautiful sunrise on the coastal section of the course that made the suffering worthwhile, but the beauty was short-lived as the exhaustion set in for those remaining in the field. Most of us were coming up on 24 hours of no sleep, at the very least, and the tone began to change.

Shortly after sunrise, we encountered new faces on the course as the Relay, 50-mile, and 50k races started, and this led to sporadic doses of energy throughout the next few laps. I saw so many friends and got to trade encouragements and high-fives, which helped keep me in the game far more than I realized at the time. Runners were dropping from our race at a fast rate before noon, and I had found my second wind. Maybe this would be my year?

Unfortunately, Spencer had succumbed to the suffering before noon as well and called it at just over 66 miles. But, seeing as how this was his second ultra ever and a new PR for him as well, he had nothing to be upset about. It was a hell of a performance and I was grateful to be there for it.

As noon came and went, I settled into the pain and kept my eyes focused on the goal. 120 miles.

I put my headphones on and continued to run my race, yet I altered my strategy just a bit. I was now working to move a little quicker so I could get back to the starting line a little earlier to give myself more time for aid and an occasional seat. This might have been a mistake, but I’ll never know. All I know is that it felt right at the time.

This strategy continued to work until it didn’t. By 4:00 PM most of the Relay, 50 mile, and 50k runners were done and off the course, and the sun was ready to set. The cold intensified, and we were preparing to enter our second night of running. I could feel my energy waning and the thought of eating or drinking anything else was unpleasant. I told my crew chief, Cameron, that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it to 120 miles, and I would be happy with getting to 100. He did what he was instructed to do, and essentially told me to shut up and keep my eyes on the prize.

I continued to chip away at the miles as best as I could, but after my 22nd lap, I returned to my crew feeling extremely nauseous. I turned down all the food they put in front of me and tried to drink some broth. After 92 miles and 22 hours of running in the cold, my body was beginning to rebel against my will.

I lined up for the 23rd lap and began making my way back into the darkness. A little less than a mile into the lap I was experiencing the spins and I stopped to throw up. It wasn’t too bad, so I tried to stay positive, sipped some water, and continued “running”. I got increasingly dizzy and threw up again—this time it was much worse. While hunched over to release the contents of my stomach, my lower back began spasming. I was in a world of discomfort and the headlamps of the runners ahead of me disappeared into the distance. The harsh reality hit me swiftly and without question—my race was over. 14-minute miles turned into 22-minute miles as the frigid air made its way into my bones. It was going to be impossible to make it back in time before the start of the next lap so I did my best to quickly walk it in.

At the top of the hour, my phone rang and it was my friend Jeremy calling to see if I was alright. I told him what had happened and where I was on the course and within minutes Cameron appeared on the trail ahead of me, followed by the race director, Tom, on a gator to come extract me from the course.

On the ride back to the starting area I was disappointed with how things turned out for me, but the disappointment was soon replaced with pride. Although I didn’t reach 120 miles or even 100 miles, I still went further than I had in my previous Backyard Ultra efforts and I can say without hesitation that I gave everything that I had to give over those 23 hours, even if it wasn’t enough.

But most importantly, I had fun with friends—new and old—and I got to spend my time out on the trails challenging myself and doing what I love with some pretty amazing people. That’s what really matters.

Southern Tour Ultra: Last Man Standing (2024)

How To (Or Not To) Run A Race In Spain

Uwharrie 100 (2023)