FOREWORD

Where to begin? Humans have been running since they learned to stand upright and walk. Competitive running has been around for hundreds of years. Any of us that have the gift of being able to run have likely been in some type of race. Whether it was as a child, challenging the other neighborhood kids, or out running an older sibling after some type of insult, it’s likely that most of us have enjoyed some type of running competition.

Somewhere along the way, competitive running began taking a different form and more formalized distances emerged. Today, we have countless 5Ks, 10Ks, half marathons, marathons, and ultra marathons. Not long ago, you would be hard pressed to know someone that had completed a marathon and now, the distance has become very achievable for anyone that puts their mind to it and challenges themselves to be bold.

With the growing popularity of marathons, something happened. Running on pavement became somewhat of a burden for a small group of individuals and it would seem that 26.2 miles wasn’t quite enough of a challenge for these athletes. Marathons were put aside for this new idea of an ultramarathon. Ultramarathons are anything over 26.2 miles but are typically in the form of 50K, 50 miles, 100K, and 100 miles. That’s right. 100 miles. On foot. Often without stopping and sometimes under 24 hours.

Ultramarathons have seen an astronomical growth in the past 20 years with now more than 70,000 people running them each year. These races are held all over the world, including Antarctica. The ultramarathons there include the Last Desert and the Antarctic Ice Marathon, which features both the 26.2 mile distance and a 100K option.

There are hundreds of ultramarathons held in North America each year. One of the very first documented ultramarathons in this part of the world occurred when two members of the Tarahumara Indians traversed the grounds between Pachuca and Mexico City (100K) in what was reported as a 9 hour and 37 minute journey. It was said that the Mexican government had then petitioned the Olympic Committee to include a 100K race in the 1928 Olympic games to be held in Amsterdam. This did not happen.

Nevertheless, ultramarathons continued to evolve and grow in popularity. The Western States Endurance Run became the world’s first 100 mile trail race when it unofficially began in 1974. At the time, the Tevis Cup was a 100 mile horse race. When Gordy Ainsleigh’s horse came up lame, he made the decision to take on the distance by foot. He finished in 23 hours and 47 minutes.

I had an opportunity to have a brief conversation with Gordon via social media. It was awesome to hear some of his words on his contributions to the emergence of ultras. Gordon told me, “The first ultras I heard of in modern times were done in the 1870s. There was a road race from San Francisco to Grant Pass, Oregon, and of course the 6 day runs were quite the thing around the turn of the century. But all the long runs, for a hundred years, were all on roads and tracks until I ran the Western States 100 in 1974, and we hosted our first event in 1977.

“Some people do point to the JFK 50 mile because it has five miles of unpaved trail and maybe 15-20 miles of flat, graded tow road along a shipping canal along with its city streets. But I see the Western States as the beginning because it was a lot of single track and fire roads over mountains and canyons, with only two miles of pavement. It quickly inspired two spinoff 50 milers; Cow Mountain in 1978 and American River in 1979, and then several 100 milers in the early 1980s.

“After I ran it in 1974, I was going to run it for speed in 1975, but I over trained and got sick. However, much to my surprise, a ride-and-tie guy I knew, Ron Kelley, ran in ’75 and withdrew at No Hands Bridge, 3 miles and one tough canyon climb from the finish. I knew that we needed another finish to establish this as humanly possible, so I accompanied my friend, Cowman Ken Shirk, through the hours of darkness to his finish in Auburn, making sure he didn’t get lost and didn’t quit.

“After that, Wendell Robie, the Godfather of Endurance Riding, said he wanted to make the run a yearly event, and that’s what we did. The first year, 1977, we ran it the way I did it: run with the horses, with no aid stations waiting for you. But that was just too hard. Horses go slower or faster than we do, depending on the terrain, and there were only three finishers out of fourteen. So we eight people on the new Board of Directors decided we need aid stations with food and drink, and a day when we didn’t have to deal with horses that travel at a different pace.

“So in 1978, the race was a clear success, and that’s the way it has been done ever since. I asked to be taken of the WS Board shortly thereafter because I’m an innovator personality, not a manager, so I have left the management to others, with occasional input at critical moments.”

Gordon finished up by saying, “By the way, I started the Cow Mountain 50 and Sally Edwards started the American River 50. After that, they sprung up too fast to keep track of. The other first generation hundreds were Leadville, Wasatch, Old Dominion, and shortly thereafter, Vermont began.” And the rest was history.

Enter Candice Burt and Destination Trails. 200 is the new 100, and I agree. We continue to push our limits and discover what the human body can endure. We push ourselves physically and mentally to achieve what some believe to be impossible tasks. Some have called us crazy. Some of us like being called crazy and others, not so much. Regardless, we continue with this idea that we can go longer, faster, stronger. We believe that limits only place restrictions on what we can and what we cannot do.

Limits only leave room for blinders on the world around us. We believe that success only exists in actually accomplishing what we set out to do. However, success is only possible when failure is an option. Success is discovered through the experience of a failed attempt. Life is not about the finish; life is not about the endgame. Life is about the journey.

What you are about to read is a detailed account of some very epic journeys. The idea of going out to take on 200 miles (206.5 to be exact) is an overwhelming, emotional and physical exploration of the power of the self. Not everyone here makes it to the end (spoiler alert: I don’t make it), but everyone has a story to tell. Reading this book will inform you of how people prepared to take on such a great distance and what it was like along the way.

Join us as we embark on a journey of preparation, fortitude, endurance, and yes, a little bit of uncertainty and craziness to even show up at the start line and become the Bigfoot 200 Endurance Run class of 2017. Each person featured in this book provides an amazing depiction of what it takes to toe the line, and become something greater.

It’s about the journey.

BECCA

As we were moving along and I was searching for my inner Mutha #@&%, my nose just started bleeding. This happens when I get really, really stressed and caffeine always makes it worse. I was lucky enough to get it to stop fairly quickly but I was wary it might start up again. I had to be easy. By this time it was getting dark and cold again. Thank god for Maria’s shirt.

Now this section had down trees and hands and knees climbs also a couple of water crossings. It all gets kind of foggy throughout this section because I was so sleepy. I was appreciating being able to move despite the discomfort. We came to our first large water crossing and I managed to keep my feet dry even though I had to go the long way to do it. I didn't want to wash the oils off since they were working really well so it was important to keep my feet dry.

We went through a couple of nasty sections that had definitely worn me down and the oils had worn off. It was clear they were taking a toll on Scott too. Steep ass climbs on loose dirt; narrow trails lined with drop offs and downed trees were all that kept coming our way. Not to mention it was full on nighttime and cold. Once again, you couldn't stop moving or you'd be freezing.

Scott was starting to drunk walk a bit and I was really worried with these drop offs that one of us was going to trip and it would be game over. We agreed to sleep for about fifteen minutes and knock off some of the exhaustion. We laid down a space blanket and threw another over us. Scott quickly fell asleep while it took me a few more minutes. I also heard something small moving near us. It made a whining noise then took off running when I turned on my headlamp to see what was there. Maybe it was a fox or coyote, who knows, but I think I spooked it more than it spooked me.

That quick nap did the trick and we were up and moving without any scary moments. By this time the oils had completely worn off and the pain was back with a vengeance. I'm sure Scott was tired of hearing my moaning and groaning and all the cuss words leaving my mouth when I would stub my very swollen toe on my right foot. My entire right foot just hated me. Either way, Scott was always kind and told me I was tough all that good stuff.

We hit another water crossing or two and we went barefoot. Shoes don't dry out for shit when it's cold at night and I didn't want wet feet. Silly I know, but that's where I was at. I was really slowing down and it soon became clear Scott was going to have to press on without me to make sure he stayed ahead of the cutoffs. At this point I was literally having to stare at Scott's feet as we walked and repeatedly saying aid station out loud while fighting the urge to cry.

I remember thinking if that's all I think about I can't think about the pain. I was limping pretty hard at this point and was just absolutely mentally drained. It's amazing how much pain can take from you and the sleep monsters were creeping up again. I was crashing hard. I was walking and now crying at this point. I just didn't care. It was ugly and raw and honest it was exactly the point I came out here to experience. I had finally reached my threshold. My dam had broke.

Finally, about two, maybe three miles out from the aid station, Scott and I parted ways. Of course he gave me a pep talk and reminded me not to stop too long or I'd get really, really cold and to just keep moving. We hugged and I thanked him for sticking with me even when it only hindered him. It was incredibly kind.

He set out and I sat down in the dirt. The pity party had arrived. I wrapped the space blanket around me curled up into a ball and started crying. I was crying so hard. Like the ugly kind of crying. The thought of taking one more step just hurt my soul. I just wanted to lay there till the sun came up and someone found me.

Then somehow my brain went to a “mountain lion is going to eat me” thought. My brain was convinced if I looked out from under the blanket there'd be one right there. Staring at me ready to pounce. I don't know why it was sure of that but I knew dawn was coming and that's prime time for them so maybe that's why. Now this is when I found a little something left. I maybe quitting but not before I gave it hell. I was going to go down swinging. I've never walked it in and today wasn't going to be the day I started and also I didn't want to get eaten.

Honestly, I think my brain uses my completely irrational fear to get me moving. I think it tricked me but either way, it got me up and off the ground. I made myself start running. Not walking, not hiking, just running and running hard. Crying and yelling out, “You won't eat me! Not today Karen!” Seriously I was yelling at the nonexistent cougar I was sure was stalking me. That actually happened.

I eventually caught up to Scott and then I felt bad because I had been moving so slowly and now I'm running. I hung with him for a couple of minutes but then had to drop back and hike a few minutes to recover and get ready for my next push.

This section had these little roller coaster dips and just when I thought the pain couldn't get worse, they showed me. Oh yes cupcake, it can. The only way to end your suffering is to run. Run, run, run my pretty. Run till you drop. I ran everything I could and was still yelling at the imaginary cougar. I also started singing. I was singing some Taylor Swift. Surly if my singing didn't scare it off, the lyrics most certainly would.

I could see the break in the tree line and knew we had to cross a road so I knew I was almost there. I came upon two people walking up this gravel road and they said I wasn't too far out. I somehow managed to dig even deeper. Pain shot through my leg with every foot stroke and tears just kept pouring down my face but damn it, I kept gaining speed.

I had no intention of moving for a while once I got there and I had every intention of using every last ounce of grit I had to get me there. That last half mile I ran my heart out. It was by far the most pain I have ever experienced in my life but I suffered through it. I came into that aid and hit my hands and knees. There were trying to get me up but I needed a minute. Literally I needed a minute to process what had just happened. They asked me if I planned to continue. That's a hard no. Abso-#@&%-lutely not. Done and done.

Scott was there and getting ready to head back out. I wished him luck, took my shoes off, wrapped myself up, and relaxed in my chair by the fire. Tony and his lady were there they had also dropped and as the cutoff time neared we all watch to see if anyone else was coming in. Pukey guy made his way in about fifteen minutes after the cutoff with an injury but I don't remember what it was. I think Achilles' tendon was the issue. To be honest, he had several hard fought days and I was surprised he kept going. I didn't think he'd make it out of the last aid station but he did. I didn’t know him or his story but I was proud of him.

We all sat there beaten, battered, and broken down. Swapping stories and reflecting on the fact that our race was over. As the sun was starting to come up, I decided that the ground looked like a good place to take a little nap. They mentioned cots but those required me walking and they weren't next to this amazing caveman invention they call fire. So yeah, #@&% the cot, I'm cool right here. I took a nice little two hour nap and was treated to a delicious breakfast.

I'm going say the folks at this aid station were super #@&% cool. They reminded me of a mix of my Nashville and Georgia peeps. I knew I was amongst my kind of people. Kinda made me miss home. Anyway, we drank some beers and did some tequila shots. Oh, and they had El Jimador which is my go to so I knew it was meant to be that I ended up dropping here. The vibe was super chill and listening to the guys plan how many beers they plan to drink while sweeping Moab had me thoroughly entertained and intrigued.

I hitched a ride back with an awesome dude and the sweepers (I can't remember his name). He had a fu Manchu and a great perspective on life. That two hour ride back flew by. Later that night at the awards ceremony, Candice gave out random awards for best feet, best hallucinations, running in sandals. All sorts of fun things. We got to share our stories and relive our adventures among newfound friends and like-minded crazies. There was food, beer, and plenty of blankets to sit on.

• Update #5 - Bigfoot 200 Book News May 25, 2018

  Hello everyone!

  I am writing with some exciting news. The Bigfoot 200 book has been picked up by an independent publisher, Koehler Books! We received …

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• Update #4 - And We're Off!!! May 16, 2018

  Hey everyone!!!

  Let me just say a huge THANK YOU to all of you for supporting the book! Seriously, the pre-order campaign was a huge …

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• Update #3 - One Week to Go May 9, 2018

  Hey everybody. Well, here we are. One more week to go for the preorders and then we will make a deal with a publisher. Thank …

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• Update #2 - Bigfoot 200 Update April 24, 2018

  Hello to you all!  A big thank you to everyone that has preordered! We are well on our way to making our goals and there …

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• Update #1 - Update title April 19, 2018

  Thank you to all of you that have ordered the Bigfoot 200 book! I really appreciate the support. You are all amazing!  Orders are coming …

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