The Breaks Ultra trail race is an extreme challenge for any runner. Starting and finishing within Breaks Interstate Park in Virginia, the race takes runners back and forth across the Kentucky-Virginia border and up and over the ruggedly tough Pine Mountain numerous times. Your breath will be taken away by …
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The Breaks Ultra trail race is an extreme challenge for any runner. Starting and finishing within Breaks Interstate Park in Virginia, the race takes runners back and forth across the Kentucky-Virginia border and up and over the ruggedly tough Pine Mountain numerous times. Your breath will be taken away by the beauty of the scenery and the extreme challenge of the terrain at the same time. This 45(ish) mile race will challenge even the best trail runners out there.
Is the ultra not your thing? Are you crewing for an ultra runner and want to get in a run in the morning to experience the Breaks? Join us for the Stateline Shuffle: a 4.8 mile trail run through Breaks Interstate Park that drops into the gorge and climbs back out via the popular River Trail!
Breaks Interstate Park is one of only two such interstate parks in the United States. Located on the Kentucky-Virginia border, “The Grand Canyon Of The South” is the deepest canyon east of the Mississippi River and reaches craggy depths of over 1,600′.
Breaks Ultra
Distance: 45(ish) miles
Elevation Gain: 12,000′
Cut Off: 16 hours
Stateline Shuffle
Distance: 4.8(ish) miles
Elevation Gain: 1,200′
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Breaks Redemption
I’m not sure why, but I’m having a difficult time putting coherent words and thoughts together to describe my Breaks experience this year. Last year, it was agonizing trauma and … MORE
I’m not sure why, but I’m having a difficult time putting coherent words and thoughts together to describe my Breaks experience this year.
Last year, it was agonizing trauma and I needed the post race therapeutic effect of writing it all out I suppose. This year, it wasn’t traumatic… like, not even a little. It wasn’t easy by any means, but I genuinely enjoyed my Breaks experience this time around. And I’m grateful for the experience.
Growth doesn’t happen at a race, or life event of any sort. Growth happens in the process before and/or after the event. The event itself is simply a marker of where we are in life, no different than marking a child’s height on the molding of a door as they grow.
The physical pain and emotional trauma in my first year (2020) at Breaks allowed an opportunity for growth; physically, mentally, and emotionally, in the year leading up to my second experience at Breaks. The year wasn’t easy, by any means… there were lots of ups and downs, very similar to the ups and downs at Breaks…
Sometimes we get a little lost in life. Sometimes we get a little lost in a race.
The beautiful thing about getting lost? It gives us the ability to find something new; in ourselves and in life. Getting lost at a race like Breaks, where the ascents are steep and miles long, and the descents are painstakingly difficult and sometimes dangerous, has the ability to ruin a runners day. I didn’t know until after the race that I, along with 20 other runners, had gotten lost just after the river crossing around mile 5. Around mile 7, I came to a 4-way intersection with two runners ahead of me and two behind. We were uncertain which way to go but thought it was to the left, so we ran down a bit until we saw some course markings. And so we continued. The climb was steep, rocky, and brutally long. It seemed never ending. In reality, it was about 2 miles in total that took over 30 minutes to climb the 2000 feet up. I questioned myself several times in this section, as I didn’t think I remembered this type of climbing so early in the race from my experience last year. But the course markings were there and I had one runner ahead and two behind, all friends from the Louisville area too. And I knew that this was the type of course that had the ability to make me question anything, and everything, at any given point anyway, so I continued reassuring myself that all was okay. And it was.
Just before the first time at Goldfish Pond Aid Station, I noticed a section of trail that was heavily marked with little pink flags. Immediately, I knew I was supposed to be coming out of that section, not passing by it. Chris was at the aid station ahead, arms out and shaking his head. He knew too… we had gotten lost somewhere and missed an entire section of the course. But we didn’t know where… or how… or how many others did too. In addition, we didn’t know how to get back to the place we got lost because we didn’t know we were lost until we found ourselves. And so we continued… it was Chris and Doug and I… we each rambled, confused and agitated about the mistake. I knew immediately that there was the potential of being disqualified for this mistake. So did the others.
In that moment, I made a promise to myself that I would tell Kelly, another friend from Louisville, who was volunteering at Ranger Cabin aid station some 6+ miles away. I also promised myself that I would continue running regardless of what the race directors decision was. I had come to Breaks to run all day, to challenge myself, and to cheer on everyone else out there doing the same. And I could do that regardless of whatever decision was made.
The power in ones own choice is the only thing we have in every scenario in life. We cannot choose for others, but we can always choose for our self.
High atop Pine Mountain, I ran with Chris, as we talked and traded stories of life and training. We stayed fairly close to one another, all the way to Ranger Cabin, and it was great logging those miles together. Our attitudes were in alignment with one another… be honest of our mistake, continue running all day, and stay positive. And so we did…
Once into Ranger Cabin, I spoke with Kelly and the other volunteers about the mistake I made. I explained to them that I didn’t know where or how I got lost, but it added an extra 1 1/2 to 2 miles, in addition to the pounding of the steeper, more technical route up the mountain I took. I only spoke of myself and my mistake. I felt it was only appropriate for me to speak on my own behalf and no one else’s. I asked them if they could talk to Michael, the race director, and ask if I would be DQ’d for my mistake and to let me know his decision the next time I came through their aid station. As Kelly filled my hydration pack, he asked if I was p.o.e’d… I assured him that I wasn’t. I explained that I was calm and happy and ready to continue running all day no matter what. And so I did…
Back up the mountain from Ranger Cabin, I passed Doug on his way down. I passed Jeremy, a new(er) friend, on his way up, I saw Dakota and Troy and many others. And I spoke to everyone. We cheered one another on and continued down (or up) the trail on our own accord. I saw Ashley for the first time and she was happy. And that made me happy. We stopped, kissed, shared a few encouraging words, and moved swiftly onward. Near the top of the Ranger Cabin ascent, I found Chris once again. We ran and chatted with one another again, all the way to Birch Knob.
We discovered the race leaders for the first time in this section too… we didn’t know their paces but the first 2 were running at what seemed to be blazing speeds. That was the only time I saw them all day. The race leader went on to set a new course record (9 hours and change) and absolutely smashed it too. We saw runners 3 and 4, followed by the 5th place runner not far from Birch Knob. This meant that Chris and I were in 6th and 7th place. But we also knew that we could just be out for a recreational run at this point if the choice was made for us to be disqualified. We didn’t stay long at Birch Knob, just long enough to refill on hydration, then took off back down the trail, for our second time to Ranger Cabin.
I saw many familiar faces on this 4 mile trek… Jeremy, Doug, Kaitlyn, KP, Jessica, Michael, Troy, Dakota, Matthew, Patrick, and last but never least, Ashley. She had a disappointed grimace of a look upon her face this time and it was clear that Breaks was taking its toll on her. I stopped momentarily and she urged me on, so I continued, and so did she.
Back into Ranger Cabin, I grabbed snacks, refilled my hydration pack, and stopped for a quick bathroom break. I ate some grapes, chatted with the volunteers, and thanked them for their service. One of them assured me that I would not be DQ’d for getting lost. She explained that I was good as long as I hit all the aid station checkpoints and that Michael said “the extra miles were free.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her, but I did have some disbelief… maybe it was because I was preparing myself for the worst. Maybe it was because she didn’t understand my mistake, or I didn’t explain it well enough. Or Michael didn’t understand or she didn’t explain it to him properly… maybe it was any number of those things. Or maybe, I just wasn’t going to be DQ’d. But in that moment, I made another promise to myself… that I would talk to Michael as soon as I crossed the finish line (which was still many hours and miles away). And so at mile 25, I left Ranger Cabin for the final time and started the climb back up to the top of Pine Mountain.
During the ridgetop section of the mountain, I ran off and on with Chad. I knew of him only because Doug had told me I might run into him at some point in the day. According to Doug, Chad and I were of similar ability in regards to running. I introduced myself and explained to Chad how I knew of him…that he had guided Doug, and a small group of runners through the VA Triple Crown of trail running. He was a strong runner and this was his fourth year at Breaks, so I felt I was in good company. He and I ran together, off and on, for several hours into the Carson Island aid station. He would generally fly past me on downhills, then I would catch him going back uphill a little while later. Then we’d hit a “flat” section and run and chat for a bit before repeating the process. It was good getting to know him over that 10 mile, 2000ft trek down the mountain to Carson Island aid station.
The relationships we form in a race are profound, just as they are in life. We are fortunate to be able to choose our own suffering in a race, physically pounding our bodies, questioning our mental capacity, all the while making room for a friendly conversation. Finding it within ourself to put our own suffering aside to cheer for another human, as they suffer and cheer for you. Suffering is unavoidable in life. Having the capacity to suffer with peace of mind is a gift that can be learned and forgotten and is up only to the beholder. It is each our own choice in how we handle our suffering. For me, this is one of the largest areas of growth in life over the past year. Suffering is normal and when we rearrange our mindset, growth occurs. Pain can create pleasure. Chaos can promote calm. But it is up to you.
At Carson Island, I was greeted by Will and Mark, as well as Brigette, Alisa, and Susan, the aid station volunteers. In 2020, this was the aid station that I wanted to stop. I sat there for 20 minutes not knowing IF I could continue before making the decision TO continue. This year was different… I was feeling light and cheerful. The pain had set in, but it wasn’t blocking my ability this time around. It was good to be around those familiar faces. I asked Brigette if she had heard from Ashley (she was going to be pacing Ashley from Carson Island to the finish), and no sooner than the end of my question to her, her watch “dinged.” She looked at me in excited disbelief… it was Ashley, alerting her that she was on her way but needed new socks and shoes, due to some blisters forming. I was fortunate to get that notification then as it gave me hopeful optimism that Ashley was still out, trudging her own way through the battle that is Breaks Ultra. I thanked everyone and headed out. I spoke again to Will and Bob before leaving to make the partial climb back up the mountain.
Chad and I hiked this couple mile section mostly together. I was fortunate to see more familiar faces for the final time before the finish line. Jeremy, Doug, Amy, Kaitlyn, Troy, and many others. We smiled and rooted for one another briefly as we passed. Those connections are so crucial.
Snaking the way down to the river, I found myself alone the whole way. My left knee was bothersome, as well as my right ankle. I eased my pacing on the downhills even more, so as not to create real damage or injury. As I was entering the river, I noticed Amy behind me. She was the women’s winner in 2020 and was looking strong enough to repeat once again. I made it through the river, up onto the rocky bank, and made my way to the final aid station of the day, Rathole. Amy went through, only stopping briefly, and I cheered for her as she moved on with confidence.
More friends, Lucas and Ellie, were manning the Rathole aid station and doing a wonderful job. Lucas and I have become friends over the last year and it was a wonderful spot to see him. Chris was sitting at a table which surprised me. We all chatted, I drank some coke and filled my hydration pack for the final time, and Chris and I headed out of Rathole together. We walked up the hill and he explained that he was unable to run without major cramping. I empathized with him, as that was the majority of my race experience in 2020. When those types of cramps set in, they are almost impossible to work around. They send painful shocks through your muscles and reverberate up and down your legs for what seems like forever. Up onto the road section, I ran mostly by myself, but coming off the road, I made a quick bathroom break before making the final trail ascent to the finish. As I completed my business, Chris was entering this section, so we began the trail together. For anyone that has run this race, or remembers my race report from 2020, this final section begins with a sign that reads,
“Dangerous Trails Ahead. Experienced Hikers Only.”
Or something to that effect…
After coming over a couple downed trees, Chris began cramping yet again. I stayed with him briefly, but he urged me to go on and not wait for him. So off I went… I dropped down, crossed the creek several times, over slippery rocks and roots, and made it to the break in the trail that led to the 800 foot climb to the finish. This section takes a lot out of any runner. It takes even more out of you when your 43 miles and 11,000 feet of elevation gain into a race. It is a switchback, boulder scramble up the side of a mountain. There are downed trees, more roots than anyone could ever count, sharp and jagged rocks underfoot, and cavernous rock formations above (I still have the dried blood on my head to prove that last one…). I took my time in this section, diagnosed each step carefully and considerately. I made sure I knew what I was doing at every second. And there were still times I felt unsafe, nearly falling, struggling to balance, and yes… hitting my head hard enough to bleed. Onward and upward. Onward and upward. Onward. Upward. Onward…
And there it was. The sign that marked the end of that trail. This was the same trail that led me to the shelter that led me to the road that led me all the way to the finish line where I completed my second Breaks Ultra in as many years.
It was great hearing the cheers of fans and other runners this year. I crossed the finish line in under 12 hours, which was great considering I had gotten lost and added on a couple of unplanned, extremely difficult miles. Michael was there at the finish, as he always is. I shared with him that Ashley had told me I said “I hate you” to him at the finish line in 2020, but that I did not in fact hate him. He laughed and said I may have said that, but it definitely wasn’t the worst thing someone has said to him at the end of a Breaks Ultra. I went on to explain to him of my mistake, early in the race. I explained to him that I still didn’t know how, or where I had gotten lost. I told him it was okay if he needed to DQ me and take my medal away. His response was reassuring… that he understood my mistake was just that. It was a mistake. Somehow, a small section of course markings had been knocked over which allowed for those 20 runners to get lost. Some got lost and continued in the wrong direction, while some got lost and turned back sooner in attempt to find the right direction. And someone fixed the markings so other runners wouldn’t continue making the mistake. He understood that there was no malicious intent in my mistake, or any of the others. He was understanding and I’m incredibly appreciative of his support.
Even with the extra miles I logged, I finished 8th overall. It’s fairly likely that I would’ve finished there even without the mistake because everyone around me made the same, or a very similar mistake. The mistake was no ones fault. It just happened. And like any mistake in life, we have two options in how we move forward…
Let it fester and ruin your day, your run, your time in nature, your connection with others, your life…
OR
Accept it for what it is; a mistake. And move forever forward knowing the outcome can still be a positive one if you choose to make it so. And so I did…
And I continued doing so at the finish line for many hours to come. I witnessed many runners, many of them friends, cross the finish line at Breaks Ultra 2021. We cheered. We chatted. We ate. We smiled. We shared stories of our days, the literal and figurative ups and downs of Breaks Ultra until the very last runner crossed the finish line.
The last runner…? It was Ashley. She had done it. I cheered loudly from the finish line as I saw her headlamp bobbing in the darkness, with Brigette by her side. She crossed the finish line and I think I was happier for her finish than even my own. We embraced. I cried some incredibly happy tears for her. And we talked with the other runners still left at the finish line area for a few. Breaks Ultra WILL punish each runner and for her to accept and move through the suffering longer than anyone else that day is nothing short of incredible. And I am fortunate to have a partner in Ashley.
My overall goal for Breaks this year was to finish HAPPILY. I didn’t want anything to spoil my day like I allowed in my first Breaks Ultra.
My second goal for Breaks this year was to be as outwardly positive and uplift as many other runners around me as I could.
My third goal for Breaks this year was to finish in 10-12 hours with a possible podium place.
While I didn’t score a podium place, I completed everything else I set out to complete. My experience in 2020 gave me the opportunity to recreate my experience in 2021. And I can’t wait for my Next Opportunity…
My mantra this year, which I audibly whispered in 3’s well over 50 times at Breaks Ultra, was:
“I received your suffering.
I offer peace, calm, and comfort in return.
May you find love and joy in each step you take.”
May you live happily, healthily, and learn from bouts of suffering. May joy find you and may you walk in peace through life. 🙏🏼
-Patrick Messenger
Get Broken at The Breaks
The Breaks Ultra: Race Report I fully expected to be broken at The Breaks and my expectation didn’t let me down. I did not, however, have any possible way of … MORE
The Breaks Ultra: Race Report
I fully expected to be broken at The Breaks and my expectation didn’t let me down. I did not, however, have any possible way of comprehending the full demoralization, the ruthless and utter treachery of this race, until I was out there “running” it.
This was the third year of the Next Opportunity Race Company’s event, The Breaks Ultra, which starts and finishes at Breaks Interstate Park in Virginia. This was my first time running it, and maybe my last… at least that’s what my brain and body tell me 24 hours after finishing this challenging course. Michael Whisman is the RD, and his already difficult job was even tougher this year amidst the coronavirus pandemic. Nonetheless, he did a wonderful job. He made sure the volunteers were at his level of support and encouragement for the runners too, and kept everyone safe all weekend. This was a well organized event, a well marked course (as long as you’re paying attention), with folks at every aid station smiling and cheering you on. I cannot express in words my gratification that such a difficult event be complimented with such wonderful race organization. I commend all those that were involved.
Breaks Interstate Park Lodge was incredibly accommodating, peaceful, and truly a beautiful place to be. They have a lodge, motel, cabins, and campground to fit the perfect weekend getaway for any family, and any reason. They have an on-site restaurant, as well as a couple gift shops and necessities store. We will definitely be coming back for a more leisurely weekend in the future.
The “Breaks” is also sometimes referred to as the “Grand Canyon of the South” and with good reason. The name “Breaks” comes from the break in Pine Mountain, formed by the Russell Fork. It carved a 1,000 foot gorge on its way to the Ohio River. In addition, the Russell Fork River etched the largest canyon east of the Mississippi. Its craggy, rugged, and untouched beauty reaches more than five miles long and is over 1,600 feet in depth.
As for the race…
It is referred to as a 45ish mile course, that adds 12,000ish feet of elevation ascent. It climbs up and down Pine Mountain in Virginia and Kentucky, and crosses the Russell Fork River twice. It has a wide variety of terrain and most of it beyond difficult. The race started at 6am on September 12, 2020. The weather was one of the few things on our side, ranging from the low 70’s to low 80’s, but there was that not-so-lovely humidity the entire day. Aside from a couple sprinkles as the race began, it was completely dry.
The race completion percentage for this year was 58.2%.
The first mile or so leads you out of the park lodge, in the dark, running pavement for a nice warmup, before ticking down a small, windy, and rocky single track trail. When you reach the bottom, you’ll get your feet wet for the first time of the day in Center Creek. While you’re not in the creek for long, it’s a slippery way to start the morning, literally straddling Kentucky and Virginia, as you trudge upstream. Once out of the creek, you hit a another stretch of rocky, single track before hitting the road for about a mile and a half. It was mostly downhill and I caught myself going road paces way too early for the course that was to come. Around mile 4, you’re back in water, wading across the Russell Fork River. The water was waist high on me and the current would be enough to float you down the river, if not for the suspension line installed for the day by NextOp Events. Once the crossing finishes, you’ll begin the steepest climb of the day, nearly 2000 feet up while covering about 3 miles, according to my Garmin. The majority of the climb is completed on an atv trail, and aside from the grueling ascent, was some of softest and easiest terrain of the day. When you reach the top, you’ll hit the first aid station, Goldfish Pond, then head out to traverse the peaks of Pine Mountain. You’ll run within feet of the cliff several times, over hard rock, through single track with tall grass and trees, and even under a cell phone tower (which was obnoxiously loud). There are views abound, so if you’re not competing to win, this is a wonderful stretch to snag a cool selfie with your squad. Just be mindful of where you’re standing, so as not to be “living on the edge,” or too close to it anyway. As you come off the backside of the mountain, you’ll begin your descent into the second aid station, Ranger Cabin. During this descent, you’ll run down rugged, rocky terrain covered in moss, making it easy to slip early in the morning. This descent is around 2 miles long and drops 1000 feet before reaching the aid station around mile 15. From there, you’ll turn around and head straight back up the same trail for another 1000 foot, 2 mile climb, before heading even further out to the next aid station at Birch Knob, which is a mostly enjoyable 2 mile section of beautiful single track forest running. After this aid station stop, it’s back through the forest before making a second trip down to Ranger Cabin. Conditions were better at this point, with the sun starting to dry out the mornings slippery rocks. Unfortunately, 20 miles into a race like this, nothing comes easy. Leaving this aid station (if you are able, there were many DNF’s at this point, around mile 23), you’ll make your last 1000ft climb on this trail and then run back over the cliffs, under the tower, and seemingly into the clouds. After the cliffs, you can make a quick pit stop at Goldfish Pond before heading back down the mountain on an another atv trail. You will drop 2000 feet to a different location on the river, and the Carson Island aid station, around mile 34. If you’re able to get out of Carson Island, it’s straight back up that 800ish foot climb to the atv trail, only to drop straight back down to the river for the final crossing of Russell Fork; the same spot you crossed earlier in the day. Hold that line tight on your second crossing as your body will certainly be screaming at you, “free me from the pain, just let go!” After the river crossing, you’ll hit your final aid station of the day, Rathole, as you near mile 40. Another mile or two of road running, mostly ascent, leads you into the final section of the race. As you enter, be sure to take note of the signs that read “EXTREME TERRAIN. EXPERIENCED HIKERS ONLY.” The section that leads back to Center Creek feels almost easy at this point. Then, you cross the creek. Then, you’ll start the final 3 mile, 1000ft climb to the finish. But don’t forget about that sign you read… this time, you’re climbing over rocks, pulling yourself up, boulder by boulder, attempting not to trip or roll an ankle in the crevices, holding onto trees while slowly hurdling downed ones, weaving in and out of rock formations. All the while, if you choose to look up, you can see the challenge that lies ahead; the cliff line that will eventually lead you to the finish line, and it only makes it harder as it is winding, deceptive, and borderline dangerous. To give a little more depth to it’s difficulty, I ran mostly in the 14-18 minute mile range during the day. But during the last 3 miles, it slowed to 20:51, 25:44, and 27:32 respectively. By far, the hardest section in the entire race, waiting to crush your body and demoralize your soul, right before heading for the finish line. When you reach the top, there is a small section of easy single track that leads you back to the road at Breaks Interstate Park, and an even shorter road run to the finish line where volunteers, photographers, and supporters will surely cheer you in for this incredibly emotional victory.
As for my race…
My mantra for today was a quote from the very wise Winnie the Pooh. Winnie said, “The only way to get where I’m going is to walk away from where I’ve been.” I leaned on these words many times throughout the day.
My race was basically a battle of two tales at The Breaks 2020. The first 14 miles. And the remainder of the race…
I made that mistake that all runners seem to make at least a few times while racing. I went out too hard. I’d been training for this race all year and that excitement got the best of me. I started the race next to my friends, Dakota, that drive down from Michigan and we hadn’t run together for over a year. We ran and chatted and I was feeling really good so I went with it. When we reached the road section, he fell back (or maybe I surged?) and were separated on the road descent to the river crossing. Around mile 8, after crossing the river and conquering that 2000 ft climb, I finally calmed my nerves and slowed my effort significantly, mindfully. I had met, and ran with another runner, Scott, off and on between miles 5-14. We discovered we lived in the same area, and ran many of the same trails. We chatted and laughed and had a good time, feeling good about the challenge that lay ahead. Around mile 14, just before the first stop at Ranger Cabin aid station, another runner zipped past us on a very technical descent. Scott commented that the guys quads couldn’t do that and continue running for the remainder of the day and then it hit me. My first cramp… of the race. In fact, this was the first cramp while running in a long, long time. It stabbed my left, upper leg, between my knee and my quad and I winced while slowing my pace significantly. It pestered me as I came into Ranger Station, but I didn’t think much of it at that point. I was fortunate that my girlfriend, Ashley, was volunteering and positioned at this aid station with some other cheerful, and helpful faces. Ranger Cabin was also a drop bag area so I swapped out my hydration pack bladder, grabbed some extra calories, chatted with Ashley for a few then headed up to Birch Knob. My leg cramp was becoming more serious and more repetitive, quickly. The upside of this climb is there were many runners coming down so we were all able to cheer each other on as we passed. I ran with a couple other folks for a mile or two on the way to Birch Knob. The woman (I forget her name) was from New Hampshire and was with her friend, Brandon. We chatted about my friends that live near her, the mountains and trails in Vermont, and The Flying Pig marathon that they both had run and loved. About a mile out from Birch Knob, the cramps set in again, this time with ferocity, causing spasms in both legs, upper and lower. Sometimes so bad, I would fall to my knees in agony, swearing and then standing once again. This would be the trend for the rest of my race. On the way back down to Ranger Cabin from Birch Knob, I had my first thought of dropping out. It was during one of those particularly crampy half mile sections that I would come to know and despise. I was nearing the bottom when I passed some other local running friends; Susan, Heather, and Marsha, followed shortly after by Karin. It was great to see them, but I’ve no clue if they knew the pain that was hiding under the smile and words shared quickly as we passed. When I finally reached the aid station, I shook my head at Ashley and gave her a thumbs down, and she knew instantly I was feeling worse than rough. A quick bathroom break, some Sword and Coke, a few extra calories, and a heart to heart with my loved one and I felt like I could continue on. So back up the mountain, I went. Step after step after cramp after cramp, I climbed. Near the top of the mountain, my upper left leg seized yet again. I nearly fell to the ground, and bent over at the waist in an attempt to alleviate the pain. I heard another runner behind me, told him he could pass. He did, momentarily, then turned back to ask if I was okay. I shared with him of my current cramping situation and he asked if he could pray for it, for me, and my pain. And so he knelt and prayed. I am not a religious man, but find great value in the idea of higher power, and putting good vibrations out into the universe. To know that a complete stranger is kind enough to stop and attempt to alleviate your pain, while experiencing their own, in any form, is a kind enough gesture that we can all apply during our daily lives. After he prayed, I thanked him, we exchanged names; his was Simon, and he headed on his way. A couple miles later, I had another couple runners pass and I asked if they had any salt tabs. One guy had some anti cramping pills, along with some Tums in his pack, which he offered up for all of us to take in hopes to slow down the pain. It was reminiscent of a drug deal I would’ve completed during high school or college; 3 dudes standing around, sharing miscellaneous pills from a ziplock baggy. We were high too… about 3000 feet high. As I headed down the mountain to the next aid station, my spirit lifted a bit. The camaraderie of the last couple miles had been great and left me in a mostly good place, mentally, and a positive enough place that I could turn off the physical pain receptors for a bit. Upon arrival at the Goldfish Pond aid station, there were a few runners refilling water, while drinking Sword or Coke. I glanced over to my right and there was Simon, sitting off the trail, clearly in some fairly intense agony of his own. We chatted from afar as the volunteers helped us out, I shouted some words of encouragement to him, then headed out in hopes of reaching Carson Island alive. I think I’ve blocked out the first portion of this section due to my pain receptors flaring up. I even text Ashley to see if she was able to meet me at Carson Island, her volunteer shift had ended and crew was allowed at Carson Island. So she jumped in the car and drove to her second aid station of the day to help me. I briefly explained that I didn’t know if I could continue in the text, but wouldn’t make any decisions on dropping out before speaking with her at the aid station. The pain had finally reached that level, I was doubting almost every step. It was only a few miles down, but it was incredibly steep and the type of gravel in this section wore out my right ankle badly, which only made the cramping and seizing in the rest of my legs far more difficult. Fortunately, Simon rallied and had managed to catch up to me. We chatted, trading stories, while running together into Carson Island and my mood lifted a bit. Ashley was waiting for me just off the trail and we walked together, talking. I explained the pain and my worries that my ankle wouldn’t hold up through the remainder of the race. Fortunately, this aid station was staffed by The Louisville Chapter of Trail Sisters, so I knew everyone there. The energy boost I got from some of my running friends was amazing. Ashley also had another running friend that dropped due to injury and rode with her. She and Karin were instrumental in calmly, and rationally allowing me to make the best decision for myself. They helped me change shoes and socks, shirts and pack, and the positive energy was enough to get me back on my feet and moving. I even overheard Josh mention that he thought the drop rate was around 50%. I thought to myself, I’m this close and if I finish this now, I never have to do it again. So I stood up and went on my way, climbing back up the steep atv trail. After going up, then a little ways down, I ran into Simon once again. This time, we ran together for several miles, all the way to the final crossing of Russell Fork. The second crossing was more difficult for me, my leg immediately seized when I entered the cold water. After it let up, I was able to traverse the rocky bottomed river, and it felt great, mostly. Up onto the embankment and to the final aid station for the day, Rathole, I refilled and renourished as much as I could in the few minutes I was there. I headed back to the steep, parking lot climb, and onto the road. Even though my legs weren’t happy to be pounding pavement at this time, I felt good and was happy to know that I was so close to the finish. There was another couple running up the road section with me, so naturally, we chatted a bit before they left me behind. Simon also passed me at the end of this section, as we headed the trail, and I gladly cheered him on. As I pulled off the road, down into the trailhead parking lot, I saw the trails entrance and in, I went. The sign I mentioned above? The one about “Extreme Terrain, Experiences Hikers Only…” yeah, that was at the beginning of this trail. The first portion didn’t seem too bad, just rocks and roots that lead me down to a creek crossing. After that creek crossing, the trail got hard. Extremely Hard. A 2.5-3 mile, 1000 foot climb that, in my opinion, was the most difficult terrain of the day, and the hardest section on the entire course. But there was no going back at this point. Like literally, it would’ve been equally as hard to quit and climb back down as it was to go up. So up, I continued to go. Boulder after boulder. Climbing over trees, losing footing on rocks and roots, hands on the ground, slow your role down, treacherous, borderline sadistic, climbing. Then I ran into a few folks that took a wrong turn at the creek. As I climbed over a downed tree, my left calf seized yet again, making me look like the weakest hurdler in history of that sport. One of the ladies offered me a salt tab and I happily obliged. Somehow, I managed to climb a bit faster after that, while still moving safely, and lost those 3 new trail friends, only to find Simon taking a rest a few turns later. We had an exchange about the brutality of our current situation and then I kept going, with Simon right behind. A little ways up, we also caught the other couple I had run with on the road and we all did some horrendous climbing together. We talked and discovered similarities and small world stories, while lightening the mood for our final portion of climbing before reaching the top. When we finally did, there was no energy in any of us to run. So we walked for another half mile or so on some incredibly easy trail until we heard cheering in the distance. We saw the entrance to road, and parking lot, and made the decision to run it in together. We quickly discovered that the cheering was coming from what appeared to be a little girls birthday party under a pavilion that had nothing to do with the race. We laughed, probably swore, and I even joked that the little girls “party” was actually just a group of paid actors that Michael hired to mess with our psyches one last time. Nonetheless, we continued our final run up the road to the finish line, crossing within mere seconds of each other. It was an intensely emotional finish for me. I didn’t even know if I was glad I had completed it at that point. I said to Michael, “that was terrible, but thank you.” That was the amount of physical pain and mental anguish that this race held for me, and so many others. Now, more than 24 hours post race, I’m not only glad I finished, that I stuck it out, but I’m also proud of myself for doing it. I am fortunate that I am able to choose this pain when so many others in this world don’t have that choice. Pain always subsides, it’s an ebb and flow kinda thing, in running, and in life. And the torturous test of The Breaks Ultramarathon will build my physical, mental, and emotional immune system into something that it wasn’t beforehand. And for that, I am grateful.
Don’t get it wrong though, I still don’t ever want to do it again…
But if you want a challenge, I highly recommend this race and I hope to be there next year, at an aid station, cheering you on during your quest!
Come run in the Breaks where you’re sure to be Broken during The Breaks Ultramarathon.
-Patrick Messenger
@louisvilleveganrunner