My Closet

I don't actually have a closet. Fortunately, The Donald Situation graciously allows me to store my outdoor stuff in the back corner of his walk-in closet. The two black and yellow storage totes are new. One holds my tents and my backpack, the other just some miscellaneous camping gear. The yellow duffel bag holds every bit of running gear I own. My grey Paco Pad hangs on the wall behind the door. And of course, my Craftsman tool box is plenty large to hold every tool I will ever need for the rest of my life.

There is no kayak in this closet, stood on its end and bungeed to the closet rod. There are no throw ropes, PFDs, sprayskirts, or helmets spilling off the edge of my toolbox, no paddles reaching to the ceiling. I did not hedge my bets by hanging on to some small piece of kayaking gear. It is all completely gone.

Kayaking was the last activity I got into because I thought the gear was cool, and I had a lot of fun with it. Ultimately, though, I've reached a point where merely owning the gear associated with an activity no longer satisfies me. I need to actually do the activity to really enjoy it. I wasn't kayaking, so I got rid of all the kayaking crap.

In '08 when everything hit the fan, I had a 12' x 30' storage room so packed with stuff you had to climb to get through it. I had a trailer full of mowers and trimmers, a fishing boat mounted to a customized PWC trailer, multiple kayaks, multiple drum kits I couldn't play, tubes for launching fireworks, and a dismantled dog kennel. I had a fucking South Bend lathe cabinet. I can't remember what else was in there. Bit by bit, some by ebay, some by Craigslist, some by garbage truck, the shit disappeared. The stuff in Donald's closet is all that's left.

I'm never going back.

West Fly Gap Road

This last Memorial Day, I was lucky to get away for a while and scout Fly Gap Road in preparation for my little Fly Gap Fun Run of Yet-To-Be-Determined Distance coming up this July. I wanted to find some good places to hide water and figure out how to get it there. I started driving west onto Fly Gap Road from Hwy 23 but didn't get very far. The mild grades were smooth gravel but the steeper sections were washed out. They might have been passable is someone else's Chevy Cavalier but not in mine! No problem, though. I just backtracked to a natural gas station of some sort about a mile from the highway where I could park and head out by foot.

For a life-long gearhead who nearly ruined himself switching from one gear-intensive hobby to the next, I'd gone a remarkably long time without buying any new running gear (one of the many things I've come to love about running!). But with a very long self-supported run coming up during the hottest part of the summer, I knew I would need to be able to carry more water. My not-buying-gear streak was about to end!

I love my Ultimate Direction Katoa waist belt with the suspenders I made from a climbing sling left over from my rappelling obsession from several years ago. I actually took that with me when I went to Rush Running to try on Ultimate Direction's new running vests to make sure the two could be worn together without interfering. I liked the construction and materials of the SJ model best but the AK fit a little better and looked like it would be cooler to wear, so I went with that one. I also bought two more of the Camelbak bottles which I prefer to the Ultimate Direction ones. Gear lust satisfied!

I drank two big glasses of water and a glass of soy milk before leaving the house, and a full bottle of water in the car. With my waste belt and my new vest, I could now carry 2.4 liters without having to struggle without handhelds, which I don't get along with. I drank another two full bottles of water, until I was bloated like a tick, and headed west with no real plan for where or how far. I did want to run some of it, but this was very much going to be an exercise in water management.

It was overcast and quite cool for late May, with a slight breeze coming over the ridge which made for very pleasant running.

Fly Gap Road follows an east-west ridge with beautiful views of both sides. The elevation stays between 2000 and 2300 feet for most of its distance.

Running on gravel roads like these is utterly pleasant during the summer when ticks and chiggers make the OHT and other trails less enjoyable.

Some might argue with this, but I think the Forrest Service does a pretty amazing job. There are designated ATV routes so people who enjoy fossil-fuel-powered sports can enjoy our public lands, but also plenty of areas for us Gatorade fuelers. The forests are healthy and alive!

Fly Gap Road dead-ended into FR#1510 a little over eight miles from my car. I had drunk less than a bottle at that point, but I was thirsty and starting to get hot. I decided I would go south on FR#1510 a few miles to the intersection with the Ozark Highlands Trail and catch the OHT back east to FR#1509, filling two bottles at Spirits Creek. I wasn't carrying my filter but figured the water would probably be OK.

FR#1510 looked to be well travelled and in fairly good shape. That might be how I get the water in for my fun run next month.

I'm usually watching the ground a yard in front of me when I'm descending at speed on loose gravel, so I'm not quite sure how I managed to see this hidden trailhead. I think I just "sensed" it.

The 2.2 miles from FR# 1510 to Spirits Creek was new to me and was very nice. My white calf sleeves made it easy to see the ticks so I could flick them off after each grassy section.

Spirits Creek.

I took a little break here and ate some Jason's Almond Butter and an Oskri almond coconut bar as part of an experiment with fat-based fueling that I'm doing. Both were delicious, as was the unfiltered water I washed it all down with.

I had hiked from Cherry Bend to Spirits Creek and back earlier this spring, so the 1.3 from Spirits Creek to FR#1509 was not new to me. It was just as steep as I remembered it, though!

Having filled up in Spirits Creek, I could have walked FR# 1509 southward to White Rock Mountain Road and back, but I decided to catch that section next time. Instead I just headed north back to fly Gap Road, shown as 1506 on this sign.

One of the smaller hills on Fly Gap Road.

Look, my car!

Scouting Fly Gap Road was a pretty amazing way to spend my Memorial Day. I was a bit disappointed that I never needed to drink my two bottles of creek water, but the hike was long enough. I even clicked off a few 13-minute miles at the end of it!

My next mission is to scout White Rock Mountain Road. I've driven it several years ago in my Accord with no problems, but the road may have changed since then. If it and the lower section of FR#1509 are good to go, then placing water for the fun run next month won't be any problem. I'll post a full report whenever I get a chance to do that run.

Here's my Garmin track, if anyone is interested.

Fly Gap 74 Training Plan

I've had the idea to do a big on run the gravel roads through the Ozark National Forest north of the Mulberry River for a while, but have never had a good opportunity. Well, Mrs. DMG and The Donald Situation will both be in Virginia the end of July and into August, so finally I will have my chance. This is going to be some bad-ass fun!


The route will consist of two counter-clockwise loops, 36 miles each, plus a mile each way to Turner Bend where I will be camping. About ten miles of it is paved and the rest is gravel of varying quality, with a total elevation gain of just over 10,000 feet. It will be dry and hot.


I think the key to a successful Fly Gap 74 will be understanding exactly what it is I'm trying to do. I am trying to cover 74 miles by foot, in one brisk and continuous push, under hot-as-fuck conditions, without ruining myself. It will be a test of intelligence rather than one of athleticism, and success will depend on covering the distance well rather than covering it fast. I am trying to challenge myself, learn something, and have fun. I am not trying to injure myself. My training will reflect these goals.

I could do this run now, so I guess my primary training objective will be to simply maintain my current level of fitness. One run a week of twenty miles or so should do the trick. I will seek out gravel roads with lots of vertical to run on. It's a bit of a long drive to make every weekend, but running sections of this loop would be fun and would allow me to scout out hiding places for water. I'll need to stash water in at least four places on race day.

Funny, it you keep yourself reasonably fit, and you aren't obsessed with speed, you hardly have to train at all!

Fly Gap 74 Fun Run

July 27th at Turner Bend. Start whenever you want and keep your own time. We'll figure out what to do for water but you're on your own for everything else. It will be hot. Map to follow, but it's basically Turner Bend on Hwy 23 to Hwy 215 to Morgan Mountain Road to Fly Gap Road to FR# 1510 to White Rock Mountain Road and back to Hwy 23. Then go one more lap around before returning to Turner Bend for a beer and a shower. No T-shirts or finisher awards. No whining.

Hope to see you there!

Inaugural FlatRock 101k

Last Saturday, I was one of 37 people who thought it would be pretty fun to run the famously technical FlatRock 50k course, after an entire day and night of rain, and then run it again. The Elk River Hiking Trail runs along the north side of Elk City Reservoir, near Independence, Kansas. It is 15 miles long plus a short paved section to get to the start/finish line. We would be running out and back twice, for a total of 62.7 miles, give or take. At the starting line, I marveled at all the spectacularly fit people gathered around me. Over the next 22 hours and 43 minutes, I would discover that I was one of them.


Pre-race briefing and spaghetti feed the night before. The people in this picture felt like long-time friends the moment I met them.


Thousands of runners knew this race would be happening. These are the ones who showed up.


Elk City Reservoir on a rainy morning.


Approaching a cool waterfall feature at about mile 13.


I ran with this group for about the first 20 miles when the mud was the worst. It was tough keeping up, but thanks to them, I hit my first two splits exactly on plan. They really made my race!


This is pretty much what the whole course was like: Descend muddy, rocky slope. Wash shoes in creek. Climb muddy, rocky slope. Repeat. The creeks fell out a little bit as the rain stopped, but I was in ankle-deep water as late as three o'clock in the morning. It was wonderful!


Don't eat the manure! It's poison!


Feeling strong coming into the half-way point aid station. I arrived in nine hours exactly as planned. I knew at this point I could power walk the rest and finish in around 22 hours, so I went into total energy conservation mode and quit running completely, even though I had lots of running left in me. That would prove to be a very good decision some hours later.


I changed socks three times, which was time well spent. I finished with zero blisters.


Here I am celebrating prematurely at the second turnaround, about mile 47, with my first burger in two months. Actually, not counting the few bites I'd stolen from my wife's plate every now and then, it was my first meat, poultry, dairy, eggs, or fish in two months, but that's a subject for a different blog post. The burger hit the spot!

Counting the long pit stop at the half-way point, I had still power walked a 6:01 split to the turnaround. I left out just as fast and was feeling great, but that would not last.

I had done everything right. I went in with a realistic plan, given my level of preparedness, and I had executed it flawlessly. But at about mile 55, after doing so much more than I had ever asked them to do before, my legs simply gave up. I could still climb, but I had to descend backwards with my hands on the ground, gently lowering myself down each large step. The rest I could do at a slow walk.

I had purposely not taken the jacket from my drop bag during my last trip through the Oak Ridge aid station, a few miles earlier, because I wanted to experience the night the way it really was, and the night was cold. I was cold. I was also having the time of my life. I was glad I blew up because blowing up added to the experience. It told me just how far I had pushed myself. I was also glad I had done the hard work early. I still had a ton of time left to finish within the 24-hour cutoff. The last few miles, when I knew I had it, I even sat down a few times, turned off my headlamp, and just enjoyed the night. I had earned it.

Finally, after zig-zagging through the last limestone fracture, after sliding down the last muddy slope, there was no more trail to walk on, only a paved road leading to the base of the dam. I could see a glow ahead in the mist and expected to find a finish line there. I did not expect to see--and hear--this!


I can't help feeling a little bit sad for the fast finishers who had to cross this finish line in the daylight. Hitting it at 4:43 in the morning was visually and sonically the most bad-ass finish line experience you could ever imagine!


Get some hand, baby! Get some hand!


I think the smile says it all!

It's taken me a week to write this race report. What I did last Saturday was so much harder than anything else I have ever done that I simply haven't yet developed the lexicon to describe it. Running this race has not in any way diminished all the other amazing running experiences I have had since December 6th, 2010, when I ran two miles at Fayetteville Lake and then puked in the grass. What it has done is change the scale by which I measure all my future running adventures. That's okay, though, because it has also changed my concept of what is possible. It was an indescribable experience.

I won't name any particular volunteers who made this race happen because all of them made it happen. They marked trail, they cooked, they dug trenches to divert runoff from aid stations, they filled water bottles, they dug in pockets for headlamps, they asked if you needed this or needed that as you stared glassy-eyed into your drop bag not understanding what you were seeing. They stood in cold mud for 24 hours so we could go out and play, and it means the world to me. Great job Epic Ultras! I'll be helping out at the War Eagle Trail Races next month at Hobbs so come on down and I'll attempt to return the favor. It's the least I can do!

I was the only rookie in the race. God and everyone could go to UltraSignup.com and see that I had run exactly one ultra previous to this one. Never once, though, did I feel like I was out of my league. Meeting and chatting with the other participants at the spaghetti dinner and at the starting line, and at every step on the trail, I was made to feel like I belonged. I was in the same league. I was in the league of runners who thought it would be pretty fun to run the FlatRock 50k course, after an entire day and night of rain, and then run it again. That was the only qualification. I am so grateful for the friendships I made on this sloppy day in April. Everyone get some hand!



Thanks to Epic Ultras photographers Greg Highberger and Harrison Steele for the excellent photos and thanks especially to Eric Steele for giving me the opportunity to "kick my own ass and BE EPIC!" You and your amazing crew "co-created the experience of a lifetime!" just as you promised. I'll be back!

OHT Photo Dump

Last Tuesday's little OHT jaunt was not worth writing up, other than to say my chance of dying on the hike was fantastically slim. The wind chill was below freezing the whole way but I was carrying enough clothing to survive the night if something happened. I had photos of maps on my camera. I had food. I had a water filter. I left a hike plan with Mrs. DMG and adhered to it. I managed the whole experience with such a nod to caution that there simply was no way it would become an adventure. I wanted a really fun 25-mile hike, and that's all I had. I did snap a few pictures, though, so I guess I'll post them:

I started at the Hwy 23 trailhead and hiked west to Spirits Creek and back.





Obligatory rock house photo.

I took my shoes off to cross Fane Creek the first time but did the proper thing and got my shoes wet on the way back.

Amazingly, I did not see a single deer. I did see three turkeys and a rabbit, though.

Spirits Creek.

This is where I turned around. A more adventurous soul would have pressed on to White Rock Mountain.

Funny, it was an early morning kayak trade that precipitated this whole safe, measured outdoor experience. I won't get into it.