Patrick Messenger's Staging Area

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