My Race

Zachary Carnahan Won

Zachary Carnahan won in 4:40:41.221. I finished second in 4:41:03.683, a 22.462 second difference.

Coulda, Shoulda, Woulda

I could have run faster. I should have run faster and had I known I was as close to my PR (4:39:45.185) as I was, I would have run faster, even without knowing that it would have made the difference between first and second.

I didn't run as fast I could have for three reasons:

• A runner with what looked like a pack with a plate in it passed me with sufficient speed and grace that I figured I was not going to finish first this year with my gimpy foot. As he passed me, I shouted to him "Do you have a plate in there?" and he just smiled. My guess is he didn't actually hear me. He had earbuds in. I did catch up with him during lunch, afterward and nope, no plate.

• I knew that six days after BMDM was going to be the Academy of Pain, a twelve hour timed race that I wanted to run at least fifty miles during. I had run that distance in the same event last year and this year I was on the fence as to whether my foot would hold up well enough to justify signing up for the Cocoona 250 and I figured AoP would be an excellent test. I really wanted to sign up for C250, so I justified not running harder in order to not jeopardize that test.

• Running hard that late in the race is annoyingly uncomfortable. I can do it, but let's face it, I looked for—and found—reasons not to.

At lunch I asked Zachary point blank if I had caught up to him would he have put up a fight and his answer was no. I had passed him going up mineral hill, but he saw my backpack outside a porta-potty and deliberately chose to run as quickly as he could to gain as much of a lead as possible. That was quite successful, because my hubris lead me to believe that I had crushed his spirit and it didn't occur to me that he had passed me during my brief pit stop. The downside to Zachary is that by his own admission he blew up and that's why, had I run faster, he didn't think he'd have been able to put up a fight.

Far too much Race Information

Last Year's Race

"Last year" was 2019, because BMDM hadn't been held in person since then.

I was in the best shape ever and we had perfect weather. Unfortunately, I developed debilitating hip pain that was almost definitely due to my pack breaking. I did not see or hear my pack break, but my pack was definitely broken by the time I picked it up after taking it off and crossing the finish line.

This Year's Training

This year's training did not go well. I started out with a hot-spot in my right foot and training with a pack made it worse. Each training year I do one or two twenty-four mile trainings and, in general, those are good predictors for my performance. However, in 2019 I didn't do as well as predicted, presumably due to the broken pack. This year, I did *much better than predicted, because both of my twenty-four mile trainings were marred by foot pain that wasn't present on race day.

Reconnaissance

I'm a programmer and I had already written some software to scrape race results and to compute the Mt. Taylor Doublers and the Albuquerque Roadrunners Member Race Series scores.

Since 2016, BMDM has had its results and entrants compiled by Its Your Race, so I used my software to scrape the previous results and the 2023 entrants so I could see who was entered who had previously finished in less than six hours.

There were only five:

None of these people had run sub five, and the youngest was 34. Most people during the intervening years had probably lost interest, although the fact that these people had signed up showed they were at least somewhat interested. I didn't think it likely (but I was wrong!) that any of these people would train hard and decrease their time by more than a half hour, which made me think that if I finished sub-five, I'd either come in first or would be beat by someone new. New people usually are surprised by the difficulty of the course.

Drugs

I broke down and saw a podiatrist on March 10th, the day before the King of the Hill Ruck race and only nine days before the Bataan Memorial Death March. I explained what was going on and why I believed it was a morton's neuroma and why we could rule out a stress fracture. He examined my foot, concurred and gave me a shot of cortisone.

Cortisone is a steroid and I believe its use is a World Anti Doping Agency (WADA) violation without a Therapeutic Use Exemption (TUE). As far a I know, none of the events I participate in are run using WADA rules, so this is an area I know very little about. I did not seek the cortisone to enhance my ability. It's the only steroid I've ever used and it certainly wasn't something I turned to lightly.

In addition to the cortisone, I used caffeine (3 double espressos), 200mg ibuprofen, 500mg acetaminophen and a bar of 90% dark chocolate (contains theobromine) on race day. None of those are (AFAIK) WADA violations, although the ibuprofen and acetaminophen are barred from UTMB.

Pre-Race

Almost every day I have a double espresso at 5:15 to "wake me up" (although I'm typically awake and doing things around 4:45) and to "get me going". I chose not to use wake-up caffeine the morning of BMDM, because I didn't want to need to go to the bathroom when stuck in traffic and because I didn't want the caffeine wearing off too soon.

Unfortunately, I didn't sleep well. Various noises kept me awake. So with less time spent sleeping and with poorer quality of sleep, the lack of caffeine contributed to me forgetting my handhelds, losing my keys and chewing up time.

In years past, there were porta-potties on the way out that could be hit one final time after the gun had started but before crossing the starting timing mat. In 2019 the lack of those porta potties surprised me and interfered with my race. This year, the lack of porta potties near the parking area surprised me. Luckily, I had brought a lug-a-loo and could use that while Iris slept. Oops. the lug-a-loo was in my truck back in Albuquerque. Surprise!

We did make it to the porta potties in time to hit them—once—before heading to our starting positions, but would once be enough? No.

To Mineral Hill

I rushed to get to the runner's section of the starting line. I wanted to be settled by the time the opening ceremony began. I succeeded, but got separated from Iris. We weren't planning on going the same pace, so that was OK.

They fired the starting (big!) gun. I started my playlist and we were off. Before too long we crossed the starting timing mat and were running. The first six miles are basically downhill and I averaged about a 9:20 min/mile pace, getting my heart-rate up to around 150 bpm and holding it there.

I struck up many conversations with fellow runners, typically starting out by asking if they had run the course before. If they hadn't, I explained how it would unfold and more often than not I suggested that they wanted to be careful not to burn out early.

One person mentioned that he knew Ray Pickering, the guy who had started the Bataan Memorial Death March. He said that Ray was there and I let him know that I'd love to meet Ray. That didn't happen, but perhaps some day I'll get that honor.

One person I chatted with recognized me from my picture on the Civilian Individual Heavy Division registration page.

Miles seven and eight are gentle uphills and around mile eight is where participants doing the honorary march turn to the left. The rest of us turn to the right and head up Mineral Hill.

Up Mineral Hill

My goal was to keep my heart rate around 150 bpm going up Mineral Hill. I wasn't sure if could keep it that low without having to walk here and there, but I was much more concerned with not blowing up than I was to artificially force myself to run the entire way up.

I continued chatting with fellow participants, mostly people who were traveling my speed. Since I wasn't always running, that allowed me to chat with some walkers, too. By this time, I only remember seeing one person running with a pack, and he too would walk every now and then. He was ahead of me, but I was gaining.

I asked him if he had done this before and he said he had. That should have been a warning, because it meant he knew what he was doing. I mentioned that I had probably chatted with him in previous years, but my memory is shot, and 2019 was an eternity in the past. Of course that was Zachary. While we were still going up, I passed him. I (incorrectly!) figured my gap would only widen, since I can run the downhill pretty quickly. I didn't see him again until I spotted him at the post event lunch, where I congratulated him and picked his brain.

Down Mineral Hill

According to my Strava Track, the course peaks at mile 13.2. I ran my fifteenth mile in 8:45 and my seventeenth in 10:27, but my sixteenth took me 12:29. I had to use the porta potty. Once pass before the start was not enough. Not only did I lose a couple minutes there, but that's when Zachary passed me. He knew who I was and he also recognized my unique backpack.

I didn't know that Zachary had passed me, but I did see a guy with a small Osprey backpack that looked like it was designed to hold a metal plate, like a small GoRuck pack. I shouted "Do you have a plate in there?" I misinterpreted the smile I got in return and thought that he had. My mind wasn't functioning well the entire day. The cascade of tiredness induced troubles just getting to the starting line left me even further addled. I was actually surprised that Osprey was making a plate carrier, but I figured rucking just must be taking off more than I had realized. I was delusional.

The Sand Pit

I don't remember what year they changed the course, but the sand pit now has some uphill to it. According to Strava, mile twenty-one has 95 feet of gain and mile twenty-two has another 131 feet of gain. I was no longer keeping my heart rate up around 150; it was closer to 140 and I was wearing down. From mile 22.4 to 24.2 is downhill and rather than using that downhill effectively, I used it to rest. It took me 11:08 to run my twenty fourth mile even though it was downhill. I had let me heart-rate drop down to 135. I had given up. I wasn't going to catch Osprey guy, so I had no chance at first and six days later I wanted to run fifty miles (but without a pack!).

The Home Stretch

The twenty-fifth mile was a little up hill and the twenty-sixth a little down. I ran them in 12:37 ad 12:31. My heart wasn't in it in part because my head wasn't in it. Not only was I not thinking straight, but I had never looked at my elapsed time and furthermore, I misremembered my PR as 4:35 or 4:36 and not 4:39. A PR was in my grasp, but I didn't even know it. I spent months training, but not enough time working on a race-day plan.

Second

After finishing, I called my sister Marcia. She's completed the Bataan Memorial Death March (without a pack) and typically comes out to join us. This year, she needed to stay back in Albuquerque. I couldn't get the tracking app to work on my phone, so I didn't know where I had placed. There was a results tent, but it had a sign saying that your results wouldn't be available until about a half hour after you crossed the finish line.

I figured Marcia could use the web to find out how many people had finished ahead of me. My time was roughly 4:40, but Osprey guy probably finished sub 4:30 and there was no way I had a sub 4:30 in me this year.

Second (pause) and unless I botched the math, by twenty three seconds.

Are you shitting me?

I was quite proud that my sister had thought of this way to yank my chain¹.

Nope. Oh well, there's always next year.