The trail is nothing like I’ve ever seen before. I’m not sure we’d even call this a trail back home. Maybe a goat trail. But there’s a faint line in the fallen leaves, winding around the trees. And those trees have the trademark white blaze posted on them. So I’m still on the trail, despite what it looks like. This is not Colorado trail running. This is Arkansas trail running and it’s one of the most challenging and enjoyable races I’ve done this year.
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| Follow the white blazes for the Ozark Highlands Trail |
Razorback Running Revival at Lake Fort Smith State Park, on the famed Ozark Highlands Trail was a late addition to the running calendar. It was a chance to explore a new area of the country, run and ride on some new trails and see some old friends. It’s also fun to be a part of history with a new race - while there are bound to be a few hiccups, it’s always an adventure to be the first. I knew Human Potential will put on a great race, filled with adventure and adversity. Other then that, I didn’t have a clue as to what I was getting into. What would the trail be like? How bad would the river crossings be? And how could you get that many feet of elevation gain in the middle of Northwest Arkansas? I would learn all of that and more on November 9th.
Early morning and the mist was rising from the lake into the campground. The sun was struggling to burn off the fog, creating eery shadows among the trees. Perfect setting for an ultra! After breakfast and double checking drop bags, Kat, Nick and I walked from our campsite down to the start. We made it down just before check in finished and pinned numbers to our bibs while John was giving his pre-race speech. With it being a straight out and back course, we were following the white blazes for the Ozark Highlands Trail instead of traditional course markings. The assembled runners seemed to take the news much better then the Sangre runners, laughing at the instructions to follow the blazes. And then, with the usual lack of fanfare, we were off in the hills of Arkansas to take on the 32 miles ahead of us.
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| One of the many creek crossing along the trial |
It didn’t take long for me to realize that this wasn’t going to be a typical trail race. This was not Colorado trail running, with smooth, well defined gravel based paths. This was different. The trail was naught more then a suggestion of crushed leaves threading between trees and rocks. That’s all there was - no easy to follow gravel path where you could just turn your mind off and run. Raw and rugged, with rocks hidden under the thick layer of leaves, multiple creek crossing and the occasional mud bogs. And that was just in the first mile! I found a groove as we ran along the lake shore, constantly scanning the trail under my feet, a few feet ahead of me and then up the trees to find my next white blaze. Up and down short punchy climbs, jump a creek in the futile attempt to keep my feet dry. I had to keep my distance from the guy in front of me - more then usual - because of the technical nature of the trail. I needed to be able to see what was in front of me and I couldn’t if I was following feet.
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| Another one of the many creek crossing |
There were three main themes on the trail. Following the ribbon of crushed leaves was the first. I soon got accustomed to reading the signs of trail among the trees. It was almost a game - finding the next white blaze and the winding route to get there. I never lost the trail, using the scanning from mountain biking to keep my path centered. The second was the water. So much water! Creeks bubbled over, small waterfalls cascading down onto the trail. And where the creeks crossed, invariably mud followed. Many of the small creeks had simply decided that the trail was easier to follow then the prior drainage. Keeping my feet dry was wishful thinking! It was just long enough between the big crossing for my shoes and socks to dry before hitting the next one. And finally, the third theme was the terrain. In Colorado, we are used to the long sustained climbs and descents. Here, the trail tipped up and then plunged down. Steep hills climbing up from the creek bottoms to amazing vistas of fall colors, then winding back down to the creek.
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| Frog Bayou crossing |
Back to the creek crossings.... There was one major one that everyone was worried about prior to the race. Frog Bayou. In mid October, the water was about mid-calf deep. When John and Kyle did pre-race set up, it was up to mid-thigh. They strung a safety rope across the longest section, but the second section of the creek (river?) was just as deep and fast - only shorter. Then at about mile 7 we crossed Jack Creek twice, about ankle to calf deep both times. After the first aid station at Old Locke, the final major creek crossing at Hurricane Creek. This was another deep crossing - over my knees in most places. Because of the creek crossings, I’d opted to wear my Topos. They had handled the downpour and hail during Sheep Mountain, so I figured they would be good for all the creek crossing. I was worried about staying warm, so decided to wear shorter socks instead of my knee highs. Big mistake on my part!I don’t know if the tall socks would have dried between river crossings - but my ankles would have been less shredded. We don’t have briar bushes in Colorado...But the shoes were the perfect choice - both for the terrain and the water crossing. The laces didn’t handle the soaking as well - gradually loosening with each step. Oh well - gave me an excuse to stop and look around frequently!
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| Waterfall! |
About 6 miles into the race, I had a fellow runner come up behind me. I could hear him easily, foot steps crunching on the leaves. I figured he was in the race - why else would anyone be running on this isolated trail? There were a few minutes of silence, just the breathing and footfalls. Then he piped up “I guess I should tell you I’m in the race.” Huh? First time someone has said that to me! Then he continued “I heard on a podcast I’m not supposed to just run silently behind you like a creeper. I need to be considerate of your feelings and let you know I’m also in the race!” I just had to laugh - I don’t listen to podcasts too much, so I really had no clue what he was talking about. But that was all we needed for the introduction. The next 10 miles were filled with conversation and laughs. I’m not usually a social and chatty runner, but this was great. We were running at a good pace with the same general idea of power hiking and running. Another set of eyes was nice for finding blazes as well. And how small is the running world? Brian was from Tulsa, but had come out to do Sheep Mountain 50m this year. We also followed each other on instagram! We talked about Sheep Mountain, the trails, the challenge of Round Hill, the fact that I got hailed on and he had nothing but sunshine. We talked about training for a race with 9k feet of elevation gain at Turkey Mountain in Tulsa. We discussed the differences in trail conditions between Colorado with our more manicured trails, the rocky and rooty chunk at Turkey Mountain and this trail. And we just ran in silence some times, listening to the leaves crunch under our feet and the birds calling through the trees.
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| View at about mile 13 on the OHT |
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Me taking in the view
Photo - Brian Brownlee |
Finally, we started seeing runners coming back at us. It was about 14 miles in when the first runner came back, so I figured we only had two miles left to the turn around at White Rock. Little did I know... There would be some bonus miles today for sure. The runners heading back to Lake Fort Smith had a mix of 50 mile and 50 k bibs - some of them 50 milers who had missed cutoffs, some of them early starters in the 50k and a few of them the faster runners in the regular 50k start. It was hard to tell at that point who was who, but everyone seemed happy and moving well. I knew from looking at the course map that we would intersect the Shores Lake Loop that the 50 milers did and it was a bit of distance from that intersection back to the aid station. I also remembered that it was a climb up there, but wasn’t prepared for how steep that last final section of trail was. Finally, I could see people atop the white rocks overlooking the trail and knew we had to be getting close. One more steep push over some mossy rocks and we popped out of the trees to an oasis of food and drinks. And drop bags. It was perfect timing - I’d just run out of water a few minutes before reaching the aid station. Emily and John were there, making sure things were going well. I got my drop bag, filled up the bladder in my pack with some Skratch, filled one soft flask with water and the other with ginger ale. Then I decided that one water bottles worth of water would not be enough for the return trip and had one of the volunteers get some. Meanwhile I was grazing. I should know better then stuff my vest pockets with food at the Human Potential races - there’s always so much food. Tator Tots are my new favorite, along with bacon, quesadillas and the avocado chunks. While I was grazing and stashing some food in my collapsible cup for later, I told John I didn’t think I’d make it back to the finish by 2:00pm to start my volunteer shift. Before coming out to the race, I’d decided that I would help at the finish line after I finished. Given that it was “just” a 50k and much lower in elevation then what I usually run at, I figured I’d be able to run 6-7 hours pretty easy. That was before I discovered how challenging the trail would be and how hard the course was before adding in the bonus miles. It had taken me 4 hours to get to the turn around point! No way I was going to make it back by 2:00 - I would be lucky to be back at the Old Locke aid station by 2:00. At that point I was hoping to just break 8 hours! John just laughed and told me to stop dawdling at the aid station. One last chunk of bacon and I was back on the trail.
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| Brian on the last chunk of trail before the White Rock Aid station - following the edge of White Rock |
Somewhere between leaving the aid station and where the Shores Lake Loop joined the OHT, I lost Brian. He’d left the aid station just a few minutes before me, but then disappeared. With how twisty the trail was and the amount of vegetation, I was never able to see the other runners for more then a few yards when we met. I wasn’t taking my eyes of the trail for any longer then I had to - and searching for other runners while trying to make forward progress was asking to fall. I had to keep my eyes on my footing and be smart. I figured at some point, I’d catch Brian but until then I was alone. Not a problem. I’m used to running alone. Besides, I would also start catching the inbound runners along the trail as well. I might be running alone, but I was never really alone on the trail. There were other people out there besides the race - from day hikers to backpackers and plenty of people camping along the trail.
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| 50k runners just followed the white blazes, the 50 mile runners added the Shores Lake loop |
The trail seemed easier to follow on the return leg. It was still challenging running, with the rocks and roots hidden among the leaves, waiting to reach up and grab a toe. Speed work pays off for running ultras! It teaches you to lift your feet up higher and move with a quicker cadence. All very important skills for this kind of running. But the line of crushed leaves was clearer, more defined. I was also getting into the groove of watching the trail right in front of my feet, scanning about 10 feet out and then looking up at the trees for the white blaze before returning my gaze back to the trail directly ahead of me. I was also getting smoother at picking up my feet and adding a little bounce to my step to get through the brambles and bushes along the trail. This wasn’t easy trail running - it was whole body motor planing with a huge emphasis on the stabilizer muscles up and down the kinetic chain.
I also abandoned all hope for keeping my feet dry. On the outbound trip, I’d carefully dodged deep mud pits, used the rocks in the creeks and streams for crossing and done my best to keep my feet as dry as possible after the Hurricane Creek crossing. This time? I knew I was going to get wet. It was inevitable and it was all going to happen in the last 10 miles or so. So really, why bother? I’m not sure I saved any time by just splashing through everything, but it was a whole lot more fun! I was a kid again, playing in the mud and finding a new sense of wonder with every little waterfall. And there were so many waterfalls and creeks - some right along the trail, some a few yards away. Blue-grey water cascading over ledges and cliffs, rushing around mossy rocks. An new discovery around every corner, even through I’d passed that way before.
Finally, I reached Hurricane Creek. The trail had been a little challenging to find on the outbound crossing - it had been a diagonally oriented crossing and we’d gone straight across. This time, even though I knew it was a diagonal crossing, I still plunged right in and forged straight across. But I knew where the other side of the trail was this time and where I was going. Up. Straight up. The steepest section of the profile, climbing up from the creek to the last aid station at Old Locke Road. Here the members of the Ozark Highlands Trail Association waited for us, excited to be there and eager to help out. They all wanted to know how we were enjoying the trail and what we thought of the course. I told them it was unlike anything I’ve ever run before and thanked them for being out there. Although, I’m not sure who was happier to see who - us runners or the volunteers. I got some more water and ginger ale and another serving of tots and quesadillas for the road. No time to dawdle at the aid stations. It was getting late - already 2:00 and I knew I had about two more hours of running left.
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| Water seeping over rocks on the trail |
This final 9 miles was also the hardest of the race. The elevation profile had looked flat, but as we had all discovered on the outbound trip, it was far from flat. The trail climbed up a ridge, curved around the contour and then dropped back down towards a drainage. Some of those drainages were small stream, easy to hope over. Others required a little more thought. I was still on the don’t care about wet feet program, but the moss covered rocks and roots were a little slicker then I liked. So some care was warranted to ensure I didn’t fall. And while the trail was easier to follow, the number of feet beating through the leaves had stirred up more mud then before. It wasn’t quite soul sucking mud, but it wasn’t splashing mud either. I was counting down the miles, following both the mile markers on the trail and my vague recollections of where different landmarks had been on the outbound trip. I had figured that it wouldn’t be that hard to remember what I’d passed just a few miles before. Somehow, though I was wrong. I didn’t remember the two crossings of Jack Creek. Every other creek crossing looked completely different. I couldn’t remember exactly where the creek crossings were in relation to the rest of the course. I knew I was getting close because I could see the lake finally. Every time I heard rushing water, I thought I was getting to the major river crossing and that much closer to the finish. Then I would crest the hill and see naught more then another small waterfall. But it was hard to get frustrated because it was just so pretty! Each waterfall another jewel on the trail, with colors I never see at home between the leaves and the slate blue water.
Then at last, the rushing water was finally the Frog Bayou crossing. I pondered my options on the narrow section - it looked more formidable this time around, like the water had risen in the last 6 hours. And sure enough, when I stepped in it was splashing up against the hem of my skirt! And stronger. I had to be really careful with my footing as the water rushed around my legs. Then I splashed onto the little island between channels. Time to face the current. I was very happy to have the safety rope as the water pulled and tugged me downstream. With one arm wrapped firmly around the top and the other hand holding on for balance, I carefully picked my way across the channel.
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| The water seemed higher on the return trip |
Less then four miles to run. I caught one of the guys ahead of me and he decided that there was no way he was gonna get chicked this late in the race. I could hear his footsteps clunking behind me. I might not have the legs and trail knowledge required for the Ozark Highlands trail, but I still had Colorado lungs! I turned on the burners, charging through rocks and roots. It wasn’t sustainable for the last three miles, but I could handle it for at least a mile! In one of the more technical sections, I finally dropped him. The sound of footsteps faded quickly as I kept moving. Once I knew for sure that I was alone again, I backed off just a little. My goal of breaking 8 hours was within reach, but I wasn’t willing to take a chance on the technical trails to make it happen. We had a week vacation coming up and I wanted to be able to ride my bike and explore some new trails in NWA. Down the final technical trail section and onto the road. I followed the pink ribbons up and through the parking lot to the HPRS archway, crossing the finish line in 8:03. I was 5th overall and 1st woman.
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| Finish Arch under an almost full moon |
Razorback Running Revival. So worth coming out for the adventure and the trails. We get spoiled with the smooth running in Colorado and scoff at the lower elevation ultras. This race taught me that every area has it’s own charms and challenges. There is nothing like this at home and this was really one of the hardest races I’ve done. One of the hardest and one of the most rewarding because of the challenge. Then to make the day even better, I had to hustle to shower and get some food before returning to the finish line. I didn’t make the start of my 2:00PM shift, but I was there! In those last hours after the sun set, I was a hot cocoa making machine! There is nothing like volunteering for the last shift at the finish line - seeing the race out to the bitter end, cheering on the runners chasing the cutoffs. It’s something every runner should do at some point in time. More on that later...
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