Frozen Falls 50k - Spencer, Tennessee

I suppose people who steal probably don’t start out as career criminals. Maybe they take something on accident, forget to check the bottom of the buggy at the grocery store. Or maybe they even take something small on purpose, figuring no one will notice that one little thing is missing.

The lack of training and preparedness for these last two running events has me thinking that I might be starting down the path of the lawless. About 8 weeks ago, I completed a 50k that I was quite undertrained for, at least, “on paper”. It had some difficulty with its elevation and rocky terrain, and there was some work mentally and physically to complete it. I expected to be in a world of pain for days afterwards. But I wasn’t. A bit sore, yes, but remarkably better than expected. I finished it. I got away with it.

So, naturally, I signed up for another one, having all intentions of “paying” for it with proper training this time. I was going to get my weekly mileage back up and get in those solid, regular runs. That’s right, I was going to be a good and honest runner and do the work!

But…so…what had happened was…real life continued to get in the way. I didn’t prioritize running like I wanted to. Life sure does have a way of messing up your plans if you’re not careful. Weekly mileage remained very low, but, true to form of those who run ultras, I was going to show up on race day and gut it out anyway. Flights and lodging were already booked so it was a done deal. Frozen Falls 50k here we come!

 I ran this event last year, so I knew what I was getting into. Travel was much smoother for 2023, aiding and abetting my impending crime. And, I was also going to have an accomplice. The previous year, I met and paced my new friend Brandon. It was his first 50k at Frozen Falls in 2022. Although I was better trained for that race (not by much), at the time I just hoped to finish. I met up with Brandon at the beginning of the second loop and we finished the race, for the most part, together. Brandon, wife Lindsay, and I happened to be staying at the same cabins down the road and hung out afterwards. Brandon and I communicated with one another prior to the 2023 run that neither of us were prepared, but we would push through together and finish it. The plan was in place.

Race morning was cold with temperatures in the low 20s. We had clear skies and a forecast that included sun and warming up into the forties. This year there was no snow and only small, random pockets of ice. Perfect conditions for a couple of running delinquents to take advantage. Our band of three made it to the start line on time and ready. Lindsay to tackle the half marathon; Brandon and I to take on the 50k.

Our well-laid plan was to finish the first loop in under four hours. That would give us 5 hours to complete the second loop and make the cutoff of nine hours. This run also had a 50-mile distance, so the odds were good that they’d let us finish if we went over, but you never know. And by then, if you risked it, it would be too late. We also planned to walk up the hills, no matter how small, to conserve energy. I think Brandon was more worried about the run that I was as he had been wrestling with a few minor injuries off and on recently, and suffered a yucky long training run a few weeks prior. That stuff will mess with your confidence, for sure. However, being the ultra-idiot I seem to have become, I felt confident we could finish. The question was more about how long it would take and how much it would hurt.

The course was essentially the same as the previous year with exception to a minor out and back later in the loop. I remembered the icy paved path in the first mile, so I knew to be careful as we started out. Well, I “knew” but didn’t “do”. Only a tenth of a mile or so into the run, cruising along with the pack, I slipped on the tiniest patch of ice on the edge of the 4-foot-wide path. Bam! Left knee and both hands hit the pavement. With the herd flowing around me, I popped back up as quickly as I could and assured the concerned citizens that I was fine. A little blood and a hole in the leggings were just a distraction from the crime already in progress.

The first 5-6 miles are the most difficult. After the half mile or so of pavement, you begin the descent from an area directly across from the top of Fall Creek falls. This section has ample rocks and roots, requiring plenty of climbing rather than running. Fortunately, it wasn’t as muddy as last year which made footing a little bit better. The course has some ups and downs from there, followed by another climb up to the Piney Creek overlook, nearly the same elevation as Fall Creek falls. After that, the course mellows out quite a bit and eventually follows the edge of the lake back to the start/finish. The edge of the lake, while lacking elevation, is well-equipped with gnarly tree roots that make level footing nearly impossible. There are some creek crossings sprinkled throughout the last half of the loop, but most can be navigated without getting your feet soaked.

 The first few miles certainly gave us both a bit of doubt about finishing. It’s tough to feel confident when the early miles already feel hard. I kept a close eye on our average pace and tried to help Brandon stay on the move. Putting my focus on someone else was great distraction from worrying about myself, and I could see he was starting to waiver about the second loop. One of the great benefits of running with someone else is that you shift the energy you might use for worrying about the race to having a conversation about lots of other random things. It’s a nice distraction.

 We finished the first loop in just under four hours as planned. I’d hoped we might have shaved off a little more, but it was what it was. I swapped out some bottles, grabbed some cheese quesadillas and bacon from the aid station, and waited for Brandon to be ready. He spent a few extra minutes to change shoes and repack for the second loop. It seemed from his body language as he laced up the shoes that he was more worried than before. The longer we lingered in the aid station, the worse that feeling was going to get. We needed to get moving.

Our aid station stop took 7 minutes. It seemed so much longer at the time, like an eternity. Finally, we were off to tackle loop 2.

Brandon’s right knee had been giving him fits throughout the first loop, especially on downhill sections. His pace and conversation would slow. As we began the first big descent, I told him that we just needed to get through the first 5–6-mile section, and to remember that these miles were the hardest. The back end of this thing was “easy”. I also tried to employ my count-down strategy towards single digits. Our new target was 22 miles. We were at 16, so only 6 to go. When we hit 22 miles, we would have only single digits left.

 With each mile on this lollipop section, Brandon’s frustration with the pain in his knee grew worse. I wasn’t sure whether the best strategy on my end was to trail behind him and let him set the pace, or be in front and force him to follow. While my own body was growing tired from lack of mileage and time on my feet, and from the aching sting of my earlier fall, I kept my thoughts on forward progress. There were a few points in those early miles of the second loop where there was no conversation. I could see the pain from the knee on his face. Somewhere around mile 19-20, I told Brandon that he needed to consider whether the pain in his knee was severe enough that it might lead to injury. If so, then he could, if necessary, bail out at the end of this out and back section and head back to the start/finish. But if he decided to continue, then he WAS finishing it, even if he had to walk it in.

After some quiet minutes, I asked, “Is it getting worse?” He said no. Game on.

With the first out and back completed, we made the turn to begin the big section of the loop. In less than a mile we’d hit target one – 22 miles.

We kept plowing forward, slowly losing ground on pace as we walked more during each mile. Although, as the distance remaining became smaller, Brandon’s resolve grew larger. More often now, he led the pace, and I trailed behind. His worry about finishing was turning into will-to-finish. Focus was narrowing. I had been to this mental place time and time before. What you did or didn’t do in training no longer pinballs around your mind. All you want now is to be done. Every step you take gets you closer to that goal. You channel that focus into the task at hand and even though things ache or hurt, the feelings of suffering recede. You just deal with it and keep moving.

We eventually hit the final section at the lake. Here, we would hug the rutted and rooty shoreline for the next 3 miles, then pick up a paved path for the last 2 miles or so. You want to go, to fly, but you don’t. It’s sort of like hopping in the getaway vehicle and having 2 flat tires. You’re on the roots, between the roots, slipping off the roots, rolling ankles on the roots, kicking the roots, sliding on the mud around the roots…

We trudged on, finally arriving at the paved road near some cabins by the lake. Last two. A half mile later, we see Brandon’s wife Lindsay pull up in her car at the top of the hill. Brandon yells out for ibuprofen and jokes about what good is that going to do now. Like seasoned crew, Lindsay runs back to the car, grabs the bottle, and hurries to deliver the goods as we approach. Barely breaking stride, he tosses a few back and we continue down the road. She tells us she’ll see us at the finish.

 Shuffling, walking, slow running…we made our way around the lake for final mile of the course. It’s a done deal, Brandon, keep moving. While throughout the run I tried to focus on encouraging him during his second go at the distance, I imagine all the words I said were my own self-fulfilling prophecy too. It’s funny how that works. You think you’re saying these things with the purpose of helping someone else, but perhaps it’s merely the self-talk YOU need to hear being said out loud.

We rounded the final corner to the finish. A few cheers from the handful of folks standing there could be heard. Lindsay was camera-ready and waiting. The race director had two awards in hand. We crossed through at the same time, 8:51:36.

 We both had hoped for a faster finish, but hope isn’t a strategy. Our strategies prior to this run had, to some degree, failed us both. It was our commitment, grit, and resolve to the plan that carried us across the line. That’s something we can be proud of.

So…I guess, sorry not sorry? I yet again got away with completing a run that I was wholly unready for. Once again, I was sore a few days, but it wasn’t terrible. I could go up and down the stairs. Other than a scabby bruise on my knee, I’m really not too worse for wear in fact. I even hiked the wicked trail down to the base of the falls and back up the day after the run. Sketchy.

I envision this shady behavior is going to catch up to me sooner or later, though. During the run, Brandon and I talked about the idea that you can’t always wait for conditions to be perfect to do something. Sometimes, you just have to go for it. If you waited until you were perfectly prepared for every opportunity in life, you’d never do anything. You wouldn’t take a risk. You wouldn’t push yourself to your limits. You wouldn’t ask the question: but what if?

 I’d like to say that I’ll clean up my act and become a law-abiding, well-prepared, trail-running citizen. I’d like to. Perhaps leave these dodgy decisions in the past.

But I just couldn’t help myself.

Before leaving Tennessee, just hours after crossing the finish line, I went to UltraSignup.

I searched local races in my area.

Click.