From 26.2 to 209
“What’s your longest run? Have you ever run that far before?”
“Wow, a time goal for your first ultra is audacious. Are you sure you can do that?”
“Like continuously? Are you running the whole time? Do you ever sleep?”
“How many calories will you burn?”
When you tell someone your goal is to run 200 miles, you get every type of question and puzzled facial expression. Rightfully so, as the words ‘200 miles’ and ‘run’ aren’t typically found in the same sentence. Similar to the concept of saying a word so many times that it loses its meaning, 200 miles lost its intimidation as I “normalized” the distance within my speech and thinking. This is a story of what occurs when you embrace daunting goals and normalize what seems crazy, allowing yourself to take the reins on what you might have thought impossible.
THE BEGINNING
Up until now, I have run a few marathons, the Tuna200 relay on an ultra team, and the Yeti 50 virtual challenge (8.35mi every 4 hours for 24 hours). I helped pace my friend during a section of the Umstead 100 a few years back and decided that I would one day attempt a 100 myself. Eager for a challenge, 2021 was the year I would finally step up to my 100 mile goal. Race entry deferrals from COVID clogged many of the 2021 race registrations that were on my radar, but I was determined that this wouldn’t stop me from running my first 100. Around the time of considering plans to run my own unsanctioned ultra at Umstead, I received a sign-up email from Malak Series, the race organization that hosts the Tuna200 relay that I had completed with a 6 man team. There was a solo runner in 2018 who set the course record, baffling the crowd as he crossed the finish line of his 53 hour 54 minute effort. When I received that sign-up email, I immediately thought, “Well, I guess I will run 100 miles when I attempt 200 miles!” As the comedic factor of my only half-joking thought subsided, I began to scheme on ways to make this happen. My employer, Bandwidth Inc., started a program called Bandwidth Epics to support their employees with big goals that need extra financial assistance or various other resources. After I slowly chipped away at my wife’s approval to attempt the 200, I floated the idea to Bandwidth with almost immediate buy in for the Epics program. Now, it’s game on. There’s no faking this. My goal is publicized for the entire company to follow as I pursue an audacious distance considering I still haven’t even run a normal 50 mile ultra.
I rallied together a crew of six friends and endurance athletes (both cyclists and runners) affiliated with Bandwidth that I knew could spur me on to the finish: Seth Ray, Ben Spain, Chad Maloy, Ryan Miller, Jimmy Juhl, and Aaron Hoag. These are guys that I’ve been to the “pain cave” with, whether biking or running, and they know how to push me when I’m in a tough mental state. Running had been a hobby of mine for a few years but I still lacked the gear knowledge and race wisdom needed for this feat. Alex Warren, Runologie owner, jumped on board without hesitation and Runologie became my lifeline for all things gear and run nutrition. Little did I know that this partnership would ultimately lead to a connection to an uplifting community, the best gear advisors I could ever imagine, and new friendships. They were always extremely welcoming to my weekly visits (sometimes twice a week) as I bombarded them with questions during the 7-8 month build up to race day. Now I have a crew and a partner, but to my surprise (or maybe no surprise at all), there is a lack of resources available for 200 miler training plans. 200 is just 2x 100 milers, right? So I found a 100 miler training plan and essentially doubled it with a few tweaks. Bad idea...definitely 100% chance I would over train and get injured. Alex pointed me in the direction of Coach Caleb with Team Wicked Bonkproof. Caleb is the unsung hero of my successful 200 as he guided me through basically 7 months of injury-free ultra training to be primed up on race day both mentally and physically. I could always hear his voice saying “easy days easy and hard days hard man,” especially if I was being a stubborn ‘grey zone’ athlete that day.
THE TRAINING
The longest single run I completed was 33 miles and my longest week was 75 miles. We leveraged a lot of split long runs (ie. 15 miler, rest one hour, 14 miler) to minimize injury, maximize miles, and train the stop-start nature of the race. Ultimately, 40-50% of my weekly mileage came from my Saturday runs, but the name of the game is consistency. The average week consisted of the following:
Monday: rest
Tuesday: easy timed run
Wednesday: hill work or speed intervals
Thursday: Runologie Run Club
Friday: cross train
Saturday: long run or split runs totaling 22-30 miles
Sunday: easy timed run
Lather, rinse, and repeat
There were three key weekends built in. The first weekend had a split long run totaling 30 miles on Friday, a 100 mile bike ride on Saturday, and a split long run totaling 28 miles on Sunday. The second weekend was a 50k trail race. The third weekend consisted of the 4x4x48 challenge, in which you run 4 miles every 4 hours for 48 hours. Oddly enough, my year-to-date training prior to the race totaled 200 runs equaling 2,006 miles, for a race advertised as 200 miles that is actually 206 miles. Coincidence?
A race lasting 50+ hours means that anything can happen, so undesired or unexpected training stimulus should be welcomed. Learn to embrace the suck. I’m talking about embracing the smell of trash trucks leap frogging with you during speed intervals, the singe of acid reflux after eating something weird before a run, headaches, cramps, dogs lunging at you, hopping over snakes, and everything in between. The more you embrace ‘the suck’ in training, the more prepared you are for race day. Trust me...the pure stank of eastern North Carolina farms was in full force for my race as fresh manure cooked in the sun, but I was prepared from all the Wednesday speed workouts as I seemingly followed trash trucks around Raleigh. Training isn’t limited to the physical elements, but intended to strengthen your mental fortitude as well. I previously felt like walking meant I had been defeated by my long run day, lacking the strength and stamina to persevere the prescribed distance. I would allow the voice in my mind to take over, “How are you going to run this 200 if you felt that bad for only a 25 mile run today?” I had to reteach myself that walking or slowing down is okay since race day will be slow and 50% walking anyway. My training became more effective both physically and mentally once I grasped the idea of becoming a patient runner.
Here’s the thing - the workouts were extremely important, but what I was doing outside of the run hours had equal weight. There is importance in everything we fill ourselves with, from the content we feed our brain to the food we put in our body. Everything has positive or negative consequences with impact on both our psyche and actions. I started to regularly meet with Aaron Hoag (RD, LDN) at Custom Fit NC to reshape the framework of my eating habits to accommodate my hypothyroidism and add supplements I might be lacking in my diet from a higher training load. Simultaneously, I had been listening to podcasts and reading books on mental endurance, leadership, and other various inspirational memoirs. Reading and consuming content of this nature is my way of surrounding myself with mentally tough individuals outside of my immediate circle. Developing a strong mind is crucial for events of this magnitude.
There is a delicate balance of training with intentionality while recognizing the impact it has on your day-to-day. I traded brunch mimosas for gels and hydration mix as I embraced my routine Saturday morning marathons. It was almost guaranteed I would fall asleep anytime I sat idle for over an hour, especially starting a movie at 8:00 pm or later. I figured out I could sneak in some stretches when I was sitting on the floor playing a board game on a friend’s coffee table or massage my hip on the corner of kitchen islands. Training is 24/7, but I had to remember that it’s not like I’m a pro athlete! I needed to be reminded to embrace life. Stay disciplined and steadfast to complete the goal, but take inventory on your priorities to remain present for friends and family.
THE RACE
Bandwidth Race Video and Bandwidth Race Pictures from JK Photography
The Start: Feels like just another long training run...
The last year of my life has been dedicated to this moment - getting to the start line of the 200 trained-up and injury-free. My wife, McCall, toed the start line beside me so we could run the first mile together, a beautiful reminder that this is not a ‘solo’ run by any means. It has taken a village to prepare for this moment, and will take a village to complete the miles set before me. I started my race a day before the actual event since the Tuna200 is designed as a 24hr relay. There was no inflatable start line arch, no gun blast to signify the beginning of the race, no course markings for the first 30 miles. Friends, family, and coworkers joined me at Lake Benson Park for some homemade fanfare towards my warm send off when my iPhone clock hit 8:00 am sharp. At the 1.5 mile mark, my wife peels off and reminds me that the goal is to finish, which I turn into a joke that I’m not allowed to come home if I don’t complete this thing. For day one, I was just some random dude running from Garner to the beach on a casual Thursday jog. I spent about 75% of the day on the grassy shoulder dodging ant hills as cars whizz past me on their casual morning commute to work, unknowingly passing a runner on his way to the coast.
Mile 37-45: The first bonk
I can always tell when cramps are looming in the background as my muscles start to twinge and tingle. Unfortunately, I’m one of those people that when one muscle starts to cramp, others follow suit and decide to go south, too. This moment wasn’t as much about the cramps as it was the mental aspect of having to take a quick unplanned stop. I fought the initial desire to sit down because I didn’t want to already be taking unplanned stops so early in the race. However, my pacer Chad reminded me that this is a 50+ hour event...we have a long time to go. The temperatures reached the mid/upper-80s, which I wasn’t expecting, allowing dehydration to creep up on me. I am accustomed to training in the gnarly summer North Carolina heat and humidity, but going from a crisp mid-40s morning to mid-80s makes it tough to gauge the state of your physiological systems. Nothing a bunch of sodium and electrolytes can’t fix though. At this point, I’ve already had two dogs off leash start to run at me so I jokingly tell my pacer that I should have listened to the race handbook and brought a knife or pepper spray for safety. Ironically, we found a pocket knife not long after that discussion, though I luckily never had to put the ground score to use.
Lesson 1: Take the unplanned stop. The bonk will pass and you’ll bounce back. Address the issue now, so you can continue to crush it later.
I was taking a ten minute break every 9 to 12 miles up until mile 45. Mile 45 came with my first big break of 45 minutes, allowing me to kick the feet up and reset my mind after 8 miles of sporadic cramps. It’s funny how all year I had been diligent on what type of nutrition I was consuming on the day-to-day, but all of that went out the window as I smashed peanut butter M&Ms, ginger ale, cup noodles, and salt and vinegar Pringles. Still riding the line of dehydration, I knew I needed to hyper-focus on fluid consumption going into the evening. Rejuvenated from a variety of calories and pictures of the support crew skateboarding during the break, I felt like a new man. Let’s roll!
Lesson 2: Celebrate small wins! Every step forward adds to my longest run ever at this point. If you celebrate small wins of even just running short sections at a time, your mental state will remain strong.
Lesson 3: Don’t think about day 2 on day 1. Complete everything in bite-size/approachable chunks. My goal is to make it the next 10 miles...not 50, not 100...only one segment at a time.
Mile 45-105: We cruisin’
There’s nothing like running into the distance with a backdrop similar to a Bob Ross sunset scene, despite the smell of cow pies filling the air as the Eastern NC farmers finished laying fresh manure on their fields. As the cool night time temps rolled in and the car traffic subsided, we quickly found that nights were going to be our bread and butter. The narrow headlamp view made running feel dreamy as we could only see tens of yards in front of us at a time, ignorant to whether we were running a hill or not. Further into the night, Seth got me in the habit of turning off the headlamp and soaking in a moonlit run. As tiredness crept in, the conversations got more entertaining. Discussion of conspiracy theories (did we actually land on the moon?!) and dad jokes kept the spirits high as we continued to chip away at our walk/run intervals. At some point around mile 80-100 I started to recognize that both of my anterior tibialis tendons (the tendon that connects your front shin muscle to your foot) were starting to get inflamed with sharp pain throughout my stride, but I didn’t talk too much about it yet. Ultimately, the night run was smooth sailing as we hit the 100 mile mark just shy of 22 hours (21:49). We did make two wrong turns, but only totaled about three extra miles. I had mentally played out this scenario in my head weeks leading into the race so the unfavorable news wouldn’t shake me. I will admit, the second wrong turn led me to contemplate asking the van to bring me back to the correct spot to restart. I wasn’t supposed to even do those extra miles right?! Wrong. This was our mistake and I needed to own it and keep traveling on my own two feet. Ben was pacing me at the time and we discussed how mad I would have been at myself for taking that easy way back if I did.
Lesson 4: Turn the headlamp off sometimes! There is beauty to glean from darkness around you if you are willing to see it.
Lesson 5: The decision to reject shortcuts is tested in adversity. We will start to rationalize the wrong decision in fatigue and exhaustion, even if the wrong decision is beneficial and understandable. Train your mind now to reject shortcuts so you are equipped when the opportunity rises.
Mile 105-125: This is where the race begins. The first time ‘quitting’ entered my head.
The warm up is over. We are over halfway! If 100 miles seemed like a feat, get ready to have to conquer that feat again on a body that is already 100 miles in the hole. Time to see what I am made of.
There are two outcomes to this race: (1) we finish, or (2) I am removed for medical reasons. Around mile 115 is when I slipped into a deep mental valley, and chose to start talking about my shin pain to my pacer, Jimmy. I chose to present the pain in a way that questioned if I was injuring myself (very likely so) in hopes that Jimmy would advise me to quit for risk of further injury. As I spoke these words, I started to see the faces of all the crew, my wife, and friends that have been supporting me through this journey and recognized how much effort they have put in…I couldn’t let them down. At this moment, I switched from thinking about the race in small distances (ie 30mi, 20mi, 15mi, etc) and allowed my brain to consider the total remaining distance. I was counting down. It was intimidating to think that I would have to run 85 more miles with increasing pain to my shins every step. Jimmy’s advice was simple and gave me no way out: take Ibuprofen and keep moving forward. Basically, it’s time to own the pain because this is my new baseline. I earned this. This pain will not control me. I had the opportunity to answer the looming question that haunted me in every training run: what will you choose when you want to quit? Now I know.
Lesson 6: Never count down. Always count forward. Miles started taking an extremely long time as I counted down every 10 miles (90 miles to go, 80 miles to go, 70, etc). Flip it, and own one manageable section at a time.
Lesson 7: Always surround yourself with people who will hold you higher. In adversity, my fallback is for someone else to make the hard decision. I wanted Jimmy to give me the validation that I could quit, but he didn’t. He knew I had a LOT more in me. I also found out that if someone doesn’t make the hard decision for me, I will continue to truck forward through the uncertainty. Invite people into your inner circle that will recognize your potential and not let you have the easy way out.
Lesson 8: The ‘never quit’ mentality is trained; the fruit of never quitting is perseverance; perseverance leads to accomplishment. I had a history of bailing out of sports, arguments, or anything that got tough as a kid. It’s taken years to chisel away the quitter mentality in me. I won’t pretend to be some big bad tough guy, but I started getting a sense of embarrassment and failure, not relief, the moment I started to think I wanted to quit this race. It’s a long road to deny your comfort zone, but worth the effort to retrain it.
Mile 126: THIS is what I signed up for.
Around 29 hours with no sleep, we decided I should grab 60 minutes of shut eye during the heat of the day. Refreshed mentally from sleeping didn’t mean my feet felt any better - they actually became more stiff. It’s funny as I don’t remember actually waking up. I came to full awareness groaning due to the shin pain in the act of pulling on compression socks. It took a good 5-10 minutes of walking to get the blood flowing enough to loosen up my tendons to start to jog again. Then the real fun began. We see rain and penny to nickel sized hail coming in at a 45 degree angle ahead. Seth drives by, looks me in the eyes with full authority and states, “This is what you wanted. Time to be hard bro.” Now stoked for the opportunity to power forward in a new variable, my pacer Ryan and I go full send into the weathery mix. The van rolls up and yells to us, “You want to get in for a sec to stay dry?” I robotically turn and yell, “NO”, then focus ahead again considering Seth’s statement and that this is what I live for. It would be too easy to have a 200 miler with almost perfect conditions. Instead, it lined up to have my one moment of wanting to quit, semi-discombobulating groggy sleep, working through a stiff and shivering body, and pelting hail roll in within the same 10 mile section. What is seemingly the hardest portion of the run became the most life-giving. This is what I signed up for.
After the hail, the sun came out but started to cook up some humidity. Again, luckily my training has been in the NC summer humidity consisting of “air soup” so I was ready. It wasn’t pleasant, it wasn’t fast, but we trudged through the walk/runs because I trained for this.
Mile 130-185: It’s all a blur, except for the Crunchwrap
Miles at this point are a blur to me. The majority of the time on my feet consisted of me grunting, deep breathing, and picking points to start jogging or walking. I even interrupted Seth’s story about van vibes with Bon Iver playing during the storm so I could let out a full primal yell into the night. Tendon pain was only increasing but I would toss back some Ibuprofen, take ownership of my pain, and tell myself this is what I wanted. Surrounded by dense dreamy fog, there were two spots that I dozed off for a split second, one while walking and the other while jogging, luckily staying steady with one foot in front of another.
I had joked leading into the race that I love Crunchwrap Supremes, and thought it would be hilarious to near the end of a 200 miler with Taco Bell in hand. Funny enough, the Bandwidth media team was able to rip to the closest Taco Bell (15-20 miles away) and get me a Crunchwrap Supreme for a mental boost at mile 150. Nutritional value was questionable but mental hype was at 100% daily value for sure. I literally ate it within three minutes (Ben timed me). Seth took a moment to show me videos the C-suite of Bandwidth posted to encourage me, along with a few other encouraging messages from friends. With 50 miles to go (the length of an ultra you would train for months to complete), I had renewed spirits from the encouragement of my community. Around mile 160 we decided to switch from using the designated relay exchange points as rest stops and pivot to a new approach: run 5 miles, rest 10 minutes. There was no need for a long rest break anymore, instead, more frequent moments off the feet. The support crew had the 10 minute rests dialed in like a Nascar pitstop as they set me up for success for the next 5 mile slog.
Lesson 9: It’s all mental. Your body will do as much as your mind allows. There’s always more energy in the tank. You are able to endure more than you expect. Take control of your mind and you will surpass your own expectations.
Mile 189: Crossing the bridge
Running the bridge into Emerald Isle was an early morning summit in full fog coverage illuminated by car headlights piercing through the hovering water droplets. I was determined to run up the bridge to prove to myself I still had energy in the tank as cars dodged us on the shoulder once they could make clear what our headlamp beams were. I felt a surge of excitement going into the new morning rounding the top of the bridge at Mile 189. A few moments later we pass a gas station, greeted by a local early-bird, “Good morning ya’ll.” It’s funny to think that we look like we are a couple of guys on dawn patrol getting our daily morning jog in, but little do people know we’ve been grinding for over 46 hours coming from the Piedmont. As I strolled into my next 10 minute stop, I let my guard down in celebration for the new milestone of crossing the bridge to the island. “We’re here! We are really here on the island. We did this!” Bad move. We still had about 20 miles to go, taking up to 4-5 hours at my current pace and rest intervals...that’s still a long time when you start convincing yourself you made it. I allowed my mind to ease up when I really should have buckled down.
Reaching the island came with a couple gifts: a new shin pain within the bone and toes that went numb when I would start running. I was able to gain control of my well-earned pain through breathing and grunting as the miles ticked by slower than ever. I thought it would be a mountain top experience for the remainder of the run. Nope. We still had another valley to mentally push through and it was time to gear up as the fog clears and the sun starts to beat down. The team crunched some numbers to conclude that we would still get the course record even if I had to walk the remainder of the distance. I knew anything could happen in 20 miles though. There was still time for injury, stomach issues, or any other of the million uncontrollable variables to kick in. We may be on track, but there is still work to be done.
Lesson 10: It ain’t over until it’s over. Recognize milestones but don’t celebrate prematurely. The process of regaining control of your mind and body is tougher than if you stayed focused.
The FINISH: 209 miles
Twenty miles of island running can be mind numbing as you run along pancake flat bike lanes, eating sand spray from cars driving past with little shade coverage. I put a considerable amount of effort into jogging as far as I could before settling into a short walk interval, only to find out the distance we just trotted was maybe a quarter the length that I perceived. Each mile was taking an eternity to complete. Refraining from looking down at my watch too often, I missed the low battery alert on my watch and saw the ‘powering off’ notification at 199.7 miles. Laughing to myself in dismay, the thought enters my mind, “I guess I have to do another 200 at some point.” The crew handed me the power bank to restart my watch as I made progress on the last 9 miles of this adventure.
I’ve been running with a pacer for the majority of the race and decided that the last 5 mile segment was one I needed to conquer solo. I’m not quite sure what to feel as I approach the finish line. Not the finish line of the race, but the finish line of a year worth of training; a year worth of build-up and anticipation to conquer this goal; a year worth of wondering “can I even do this?” Each step is closer to the end of a chapter in my life, though likely the beginning of a new addiction. For months leading to this race, I have visualized the moment I would cross the finish line and turn around to give each crew member and my wife a hug in awe of the accomplishment. Flowing in and out of reality of the pain in my shins, I ran forward elated to see the final loop around the Atlantic Beach public beach access. It hasn’t been until this point that I knew with all certainty I would finish. Now I could let my guard down to feel the weight of completing my first 200 miler set in. 209 miles. 51:28:35. We did it. Team 2 Hundo P (abbreviation for 200%) has the new course record.
Lesson 11: There is power in “we.” Accountability is everything. Encouragement should be welcomed from everyone but select your inner circle strategically. Without my support crew to run alongside and serve me, none of the race day success would have been possible. Without Runologie, I would be running on insufficient gear and miss out on a wealth of knowledge. Without Coach Caleb, I would be overtrained and likely injured. Without Bandwidth, this adventure wouldn’t be documented and funded. Without my wife, friends, and family, I’d lack the necessary encouragement I needed for the day-to-day approach of training. I did not complete this solo - this was a team accomplishment.
Fun Facts
Shoes Used: Nike Invincibles (4 pairs switched about every 20 miles) and Nike Pegasus Trail 3s for potential off road sections
During Run Nutrition of Choice: Maurten Gels
Junk Foods of Choice: Salt and vinegar chips and sundae Pop Tarts
Calories burned: estimated 25,000- 27,000. Calories consumed: <15,000 (whoops)
Hours of sleep: 1
Pacer Mileage: Jimmy 61, Ryan 50, Chad 41, Seth 21, Ben 11, Aaron 5
