Peak Races Death Division Race report:

Race June 20-21,  Report written, June 25, 2008

I was nervous going into this one. The Peak Race staff had been playing mind games with me since a weekend before with the finish of the Peaks Ultra 53 miler. There were rumors of everything from timed sessions in ultra hot, hot tubs to retrieving items from the top of greased flag poles. Pre race e-mails about mandatory gear such as helmets, chisels and eggs, and optional equipment like bikes and canoes were flying and while it was obvious that the race directors Andy Weinberg and Joe DeSena were trying to psyche people out, they were doing a pretty good job. One thing was for sure though, this was going to be a tough race and I should be prepared for anything. It’s now widely known that I’m going for the whole Pittsfield Peak series and the cash prize that goes with it, and everyone, and I mean everyone, was warning me that this would be the potential deal breaker.

Again and again I carefully reviewed the limited Youtube footage from last year. I took all the rumors with a grain of salt, but as a potential nugget of truth as well. I trained for the past month and a half by deep water diving for 10 lbs bricks, and running with a wheelbarrow full of 150 lbs of sand. I increased my gym time and mentally prepared myself by thinking about the Death Race during anytime that I was experiencing any sort continued pain or physical exertion. Even doing something as stupid as carrying a full weeks worth of groceries from the store to the car at the end of the lot I would make sure not to set them down, welcoming the discomfort the whole time. Still I knew I couldn’t be 100% prepared and I was willing to accept that as well.

The week before the race I printed out all of the pertinent e-mails from RD Andy Weinberg and got my gear list in order. Mandatory gear list was as follows:

•  Helmet (bicycle, football, hockey, motorcycle) or Hard Hat
• Ball Point Pen
• Tape Measure
• Lights/Headlamp
• Batteries for Lights
• Egg
• Small Point Chisel and a 3-4 tooth Roughing Chisel

 Optional gear included:

• Hand Saw
• Duct Tape
• Hand Loppers/Pruners
• Hatchet
• First Aid Kit
• Backpack
• Food
• Bicycle
• Extra Eggs
• Bug Spray
• Life Jacket
• Shovel
• Canoe

 I tried to pick my items smartly, not wanting to have to carry anything unnecessary, but wanting to be prepared for every event. I knew that the gear you started out with was going to have to come with you through the race, but I had also heard that if you didn’t have a particular item that you needed at a particular challenge you would have to go back to the main aid station to pick up the tool you needed and bring it back. That didn’t sound like much fun to me so I tried to compromise. I was certain that there was going to be plenty of barb wire and I couldn’t see hauling a bike or a canoe underneath barb wire so while I had both of those items, they were out.  I went over my gear repeatedly making sure I had all of the required items and with a last minute trip to Home Depot to pick up a pair or pruners my final gear list looked like this:

• Climbing helmet
• Half a dozen stone carving chisels
• 3 lbs mini sledge
• Hatchet
• Folding army style shovel
• 2 ball point pens
• 3 pencils
• Leather gloves
• Water socks/shoes
• 25ft tape measure
• 2 Tika headlamps with 6 spare batteries  
• ½ a roll of duct tape wrapped around a credit card 
• 21 inch Sven folding/backpacking saw 
• Pair of pruners/loppers
• 2 eggs contained in a set of PVC end caps
• Pair of running/biking sleeves
• Long sleeve shirt

Assorted goos and gels

 All of this was contained in a brand new North Face Hammer Head backpack with a 100oz bladder.  It all fit tight but perfect. The pack weighed a bit but I was certain that I had everything possible to be prepared. My pack was finalized about an hour before the scheduled ETD of 3 pm Friday and after hurriedly packing the extras needed for camping Leslie and I set off.

We had agreed to carpool up to Vermont with our friend Amy who was visiting her (boy)friend Daniel very near Pittsfield. Delayed by my mandatory last minute trip to Home Depot we were actually out of Seacoast NH at 4pm. We drove straight through to Tunbridge to drop Amy off at Daniel’s. They were nice enough to send us off with an excellent pasta dinner. In typical Vermont fashion Daniels house was sustainably built out of stucco with a green roof and outdoor kitchen. The dinner was all organic, and while I was a tad bit nervous about being delayed a large part of me just wished that I could skip the pressure of another long race weekend and just relax for once. You know, enjoy the beauty of Vermont without all the sweat and suffering. Not to be though, we just had time for a beer or two and quick dinner and we were off to Pittsfield. Someday I’ll manage to actually go to Vermont to do nothing, but not this weekend.

Pittsfield was a short drive and we arrived at Peak headquarters, Amee Farm, at a quarter after 8. Check in was between 8 and 9 pm and we immediately went to the General Store to register. The e-mail outlining the registration process demanded that you “Follow instructions explicitly” and said that you should park at Amee Farm and report to the General Store by 9pm. Not wanting to be tossed out on some technicality Leslie and I walked the quarter mile to the general store. There we met Andy the RD and a bunch of other volunteers and racers. Sherpa John LaCroix, a good friend of the Pittsfield crew and the only other racer who has done the whole series with me (don’t worry he’s RDing the final race and so isn’t eligible for the prize) was there looking a bit nervous as was Spencer one of Leslies track students from Oyster River High in Durham. I had met him when I had chaperoned the prom and he had told me he was going to do it. I had my doubts but here he was. I got my bib (#511) and t-shirt and was then weighed in. I was actually happy to see this as I though that they were going to monitor our weight and thereby our health at various points along the course. Of course this wasn’t their intent at all and as soon as I stepped off the scale I was asked to turn around so they could write my weight plus 20% across the back of my neck. Apparently they needed to know our weight so they could determine how much of a load we were to carry later in the race. I weighed in at 170 and 204 was written across my neck. I would be carrying 34 pounds of something later on. The next step was to orally waive your rights against suing Peak Racing should you become injured during the race. You were sat down in a chair in front of a camera and flood light. With a boom mike overheard you were asked 3 questions; whether you were currently of sound mind and mental health, whether you understood that there was a high possibility of injury and or death during the course of the race, and of course, whether you understood that Peak Racing takes no liability whatsoever in such cases of death or dismemberment or whatever other ills would inevitably befall you in the course of the Death Division. While I have no idea about the actual legality of this sort of thing I went along and responded yes to everything. I was pretty sure this was just one more attempt to get in the heads of the racers. After this pre race fun, I went back to the Farm and helped Leslie set up the tent with some off chance hopes of getting back into it before the race. In another informative e-mail sent out by the race staff outlining the pre-race schedule I noticed interestingly enough that it seemed as though they might be keeping us up for a bit before the race. The tentative schedule:

            Packet Pick up 8 - 9 p.m. 

            Mandatory Weigh In - 11 p.m. at the Amee Farm.

Mandatory Pre Race Meeting 12:30 a.m. at Amee Farm.

Mandatory Gear Check 2:00 a.m. at Amee Farm.

Race starts at 3 a.m. at Amee Farm.

It seemed obvious that they were doing everything within their power to make it as hard on us as possible. The actual schedule was a little different as packet pick and weigh in were at 8-9 and we were required to show back up at the General Store with all of our gear at 9pm for a pre-race “fitness test” to make sure we were all capable of the beating we were going to get. So at 9pm found myself and all the other racers at the General Store with no idea what we were about to get into. 

At 9:15 Andy stood up and gave a quick pre-race, pre-race talk again reconfirming the toughness of the course and warning all the racers, as well as thanking all the volunteers and landowners, etc. We were then asked for our eggs. Everyone begrudgingly came up with their eggs, and it was quite interesting to see all the different forms of protection that various people had come up with for protecting their eggs. Everyone was warned in the e-mails that you shouldn’t let your egg break and obviously everyone had gone to pains to protect them. Spencer had wrapped his in several layers of foam and plastic bags and was planning on using it as a PFD as well as an egg carrier. Oh well. My plan was to have two eggs, just in case, both contained in PVC piping to protect them. I gave up both my eggs and then we were instructed to go outside where our “fitness test” was to begin.

I had imagined push ups or pull ups until failure with some set number being required to pass. There were some burly guys and gals in the group and I wasn’t feeling so confident already. Of course my imagination got the better of me and I should have known that they wouldn’t have something that straight forward in store for us. We were lead around to the side of the store and told to pick up one of a number of piles of logs that were sitting there. Already I got my game face on and started searching out for what looked like the smallest pile left. I managed to find a good looking one with only four logs. They were all slimy and water logged as if they had been soaking at the bottom of a pond for a month just for this occasion. We were ordered under the penalty of disqualification not to drop, nor set down the logs. After everyone had their pile we started walking. Joe DeSena the owner of Peak, and an official badass himself, was leading the way and everyone followed in line. The group started walking down Rt. 100, but soon enough we were lead off the road and immediately through a 300 ft long, ankle deep pool of muddy water formed by a construction site. Everyone including myself were grumbling about the water shoes they had brought with them for just this purpose, now rendered completely useless. After this it was up the hill and into the woods. We started out on a snowmobile trail and Sherpa John and I who were both walking together had a sneaking suspicion of where we were headed. We had both run the Peaks Ultra the weekend before and we were once again on path to go up one of the steepest sections of the course, Colton Camp. This section of last weeks race while not the hardest or longest, was possibly one of the steepest.

Sure enough, round about, but eventually we made our way to Colton Camp. We were allowed to drop one log before heading up the hill. Luckily for me one of my logs was considerably larger than the others and the choice was obvious. Dropping our logs we started up again, and up, and up. A light rain was coming down and had been for a couple of hours. The woods were misty and damp, fortunately it was cool out so the humidity wasn’t much of an issue other than making the dirt snowmobile trial extremely muddy and slick. After a fair amount of heavy breathing I was at the top where we were all ordered to pick up an egg. Ah, of course. If you broke your egg before the trip was over you would have to come all the way back and get a new egg. I put mine in my pocket and carefully made my way back down the hill. One of the hardest and most annoying parts of this “pre-race test” was that it was a group activity. As such we repeatedly had to stop and wait for the slower members of the group. While you could kneel or sit down on a stump if available you couldn’t set your logs down and all you wanted to do was to get done so that you could have at least a small chance of rest before the actual race started. At one point Joe started bush whacking through the woods and of course we all had to follow. This was done not only to make it more difficult but to slow the group leaders down and allow the slower members to catch up. A major pain in the butt, every branch and downed log was slick and damp from the rain and represented a chance to slip and break your egg. Indeed some people had to make multiple trips to the top of the hill!

Eventually we made it back down to the bottom and set out for the next destination. After more bush whacking we were led to a pond in the middle of someone’s yard. On a small dock were a number of flood lights and the same camera men that had filmed our oral agreement. With the lights and the steam emanating from the pond it looked suspiciously like a horror movie. The group lined up around the edge of the pond and we were ordered to empty all our gear. After a several minutes of waiting we were told to get into the pond waist deep, after five minutes we were made to completely submerse. It was kind of cold but much better than being forced to tread water for 15 minutes like Joe had wanted us to do. Then we were ordered to pack up and get ready to move again. I couldn’t decide whether I felt more like I was in the army, or a frat, or just on some stupid hidden camera video show. Before we left we were allowed to drop one more log. It took a few extra second to fit everything into my pack and I didn’t even have time to put on a dry shirt before we were marching off again. In seconds I was shivering and had to play catch up after being forced to stop and change shirts. Finally after about 4-6 miles we were back at Amee Farm and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, a bit too soon of course.

 After few seconds of rest we were informed that we would now be crawling under the barb wire “starting line”. For some inexplicable reason I was the first in. The barb wire was about knee high and went on for about 20-30ft before heading up a steep rocky hill that was also under barb wire. The back side was not covered in wire but as I went over and began down we were ordered to stay on out hands and knees or butt the whole time. I switched over to my ass only to look up and see Andy the RD there. He asked me “are you sure you want to be leading this thing?” I took his wise advice and pulled over to the side to take a breather and let others pass. I just wanted done so I could get some rest before the start, but who knew what was coming so I smartly waited. It turned out to be very smart indeed as the next quarter mile would be spent on our hands and knees crawling through mud, nettle and raspberry briers. We had been allowed to leave our packs at the start and for probably the one time in the whole race I wished I had it. My leather work gloves were in it and man did those raspberry thorns hurt on the hands. We traveled through thorns, then a sweet smelling but deep and muddy drainage channel, through a drainage culvert and under a snowmobile bridge, and back around. Little did I know but this part of the course would become very familiar to me before too long. It took on a surreal quality in the foggy misty night with the voices and headlights of fellow racers. We were on our hands and knees but eventually people took to duck walking only to plop back down on their knees when any race official was looking. It was really the only way not to come out with lacerations all over your hands and legs. All I can say is thanks to all the people who went before me and beat down the bushes.

We were back at the start, again, but still not done, sigh. While we were in the pond earlier in the night we were given numbers. We were told to get in groups of three corresponding to the numbers you were given. I was teamed up with Sherpa and an older guy whom I would see later in the race but who’s name I never got. The next task was to mix up three 5 gallon buckets of cement. One person had to get buckets, one cement and one water. In ordered to save and potential hawing and hemming I volunteered to go get the 90 lbs bag of cement. Following the theme of the night it was located down the road a bit, but it wasn’t too long before I was back and we were mixing cement. Sherpa went to get the water from the same stream we had crawled through earlier. It wasn’t required to go through the barbed wire this time, but it was still a bit of a haul. The older guy went to get gravel and sand, and I grabbed a stick to start mixing. Eventually we found it easier to pour the mixture from bucket to bucket until the last one which honestly didn’t get mixed that well. Sherpa found a cone and a puddle to get more water from and before too long we were done. The teams hauled their buckets over to a foundation and Joe poured them in. Luckily this part of the foundation wasn’t structural. Finally we were done, just to have to start again. It was 2am and the race started at 3am. After finding a hose to wash off the massive amount of spilled cement from my shorts and arms, I managed to get out of my clothes and into my sleeping bag for half and hour or so of rest before the “official” start.

At 2:45 I was up and by 3am I was ready. I was feeling remarkably good for having already been up for almost 24 hours. I had on dry shoes and fresh clothes which was nice. I knew they wouldn’t stay dry for long but it was nice to start out comfortable and not have to get back into damp cement ridden clothes. I don’t know where or what the other racers went and did with their half an hour but at 3 everyone was back and ready for the “official” race to begin. Quickly we were given our first task; we were to pick up one of the 5 gallon buckets we had mixed cement in and fill it with sand to 20% of our body weight. After we would make our way down to the river where we would get into the river and walk with our buckets 2 miles down to the stone carvers shop where we would get our second task.

I quickly got my bucket and hopping on the scale found I had got my weight right the first time. Shortly people began crawling under the wire, and I decided it might be best if I just waited a bit. I wasn’t out to win just finish and anything I could do to make it easier on myself would be beneficial to the cause. Eventually though I had get going and I got down on my belly and began pushing my bucket in front of me and pulling my gear behind. It wasn’t too bad though it did suck to get so insanely dirty so early in the race. Through the barb wire, up over the hill and down into the drainage ditch, through the culvert, under the bridge, another quarter mile of trail and I found myself at the river. The bucket wasn’t feeling too heavy and I normally love river running so I was feeling pretty good. Trouncing into the river it was chilly at first but not too bad. The river was about 30 feet wide and the water was about mid calf most of the time. In the deepest pools it barely got waist deep. The rocks in the bottom however were slick as grease and practically every foot placement resulted in a twisted ankle. Still it was gorgeous with steam floating off the water and bats swooping down to catch bugs off the surface. As you looked down river you could see the headlights of fellow racers bobbing up and down almost like fireflies. It may sound like I was spending too much time sight seeing but the going was slow and it took a good deal of time to walk the two miles. Over the course of this time the sun started to rise. I am admittedly not a morning person. As much as I try and be the “good” athlete who rises before work every morning to get a 10 mile run in I’m just not. I think probably the only times I’ve been up for sunrise in the last year has been during races. This is just one more thing that makes them special for me, and I can’t tell you how cool it was stumbling down a beautiful Vermont stream at 3:30 in the morning watching the sun come up. For bits at a time you could almost forget you were carrying a 30 pound bucket of sand.

The bucket began to get heavy about half way down the river and soon I was switching hands back and forth quite often. Independently it seemed that everyone found out that you could float your bucket through the deeper sections, though it was slow going, because no matter how deep the water the bucket just wouldn’t float as fast as you could walk. So the option was to either carry the bucket and make good time, or float the bucket and go slow. I went back and forth. By the end of the river section my bucket was feeling so heavy that I began thinking that it must have a small crack in the bottom that was allowing the sand to suck up water. I was managing to pass people though and that felt good. At one point I caught up to Spencer as he had stopped to rig some sort of harness system out of some spare webbing he had brought. About 100 yards later he came whizzing by me making great time. It almost made me want to stop and rig something up with my rope, but instead I stubbornly plowed on. Finally when I just about felt like being done, I was. That seemed like it would become a reoccurring theme.

Once out of the river I hiked across a large field toward the stone carving shop in the distance. Leslie was waiting for me with some warm oatmeal and already there were good number of people busy at work carving away. I was told to grab a slab of marble and it was at this point I committed what may have been my only real tactical error of the race. Two slabs were leaning against the barn and instead of choosing the smaller one, some sort of stupid artistic sensibility worked its way to the surface of my weary brain and I grabbed the one underneath it that happened to be twice its size. I’ve since weighed the piece I chose and it weighs in at 6lbs. The smaller one was definitely half that. Regardless of the size of the stone everyone was required to the do same thing. The challenge at this station was to carve your bib number in marble slab. The process was to outline the number using what’s called a point chisel (which is exactly what it sounds like) and then to carve away all of the surrounding area using a 3-4 tooth chisel. This creates a slight relief and a cross-hatching effect. I had about 6 chisels in my pack and would only need two. Oh well, better to be too prepared. I let Spencer borrow a couple and got to work. Obviously to work a chisel you need a hammer and for this I had my 3 pound mini sledge. In a small oversight I hadn’t tried this out before hand, and a 3 pound sledge was just a tad too heavy especially considering my already tired state. It was effective but tiring, and I was happy I had two 1’s in my number (511) because they required only straight lines. The five was a little more work and by the time I was about ¾’s through my cross hatching I was growing tired. Again my artistic sensibility was getting the best of me as I was probably a little too concerned about getting my cross hatching looking good for a Death Race. Eventually the stone carver guy who was in charge got fed up with me and signed me off despite my being a little less than done. I must say though that I saw some other marble bibs later and they didn’t looked half as good as mine! All in all I would estimate that it took around a half an hour to finish this challenge and I later heard that they were letting us go a little early intentionally as the river walk had taken longer than the race directors had expected. There was also some concern that people were getting hypothermic as there were a lot of teeth chattering.   

Done with the stone we were allowed to empty out our sand but were made to keep our stone and our bucket and get back in the river and return to Amee Farm. On the way back to the river I was happy to see Sherpa John come through. I was a little doubtful he’d get this far in the race, not because he isn’t tough enough but because his heart wasn’t in it. He had talked about not even starting the actual race itself; something about hating being cold and wet. It turned out that he and 11 other people dropped at the carving station, not wanting to get back into the river. Not surprisingly without the sand I thought that the return river walk went much quicker. And even though I had left earlier than him Spencer once again flew by me in the river and was back at the Amee Farm by the time I had crawled my way back through the culvert and under the barb wire.

At the Farm our the next task was at hand. We had to saw through 10 logs and split and quarter 10 more. All of these had to be stacked on a pallet that had to be carried from the other side of the barn. Now this was more along the lines of what I was expecting. There was a huge pile of logs and people were fanned out around it, already sawing away. I went and grabbed a pallet and set it down to act as my station. Then it was on to selecting my logs. Some people were alternating between sawing and splitting with the idea of working different muscle groups, but I decided on a more task oriented approach and decided to saw first and split later. I went to the pile and tried to find the thinnest logs I could. Luckily there were some left, though one of the advantages of coming in with the leaders was first choice of the good logs. I grabbed ten good ones and got to work. After a few logs I found that the birch ones sawed a lot quicker than the others and I abandoned the others to go look for more birch logs. Even if they were a bit thicker they still went faster. Splitting the logs raised a similar scenario. If you actually took the time to look for drier logs with no knots and straight grain they split like a dream. I had planned on using my hatchet like a wedge and using my mini sledge to pound it but they had supplied enough axes that I didn’t see any need not to use them. As I split my wood Leslie helped me out by getting food and Heed (a electrolyte drink) and the race staff had cooked up eggs and sausage at this station. I ate as much as I could. Real food always tastes so good during events like this. My Sven saw and smart strategy made pretty quick work of this section and before too long I was ready for the next task.

I reported to Andy and got my instructions. More sand, and more river. Sigh! I filled my bucket with 30 more pounds of sand and headed back under the barb wire, through the culvert, under the bridge and back up river for a mile to the next station. My arms were getting tired at this point, and because my back pack was so stuffed I didn’t have any choice but to carry my marble either in my bucket or in my free hand. It was amazing how much weight just the extra six pounds added. After a while I had to stop and rest for a minute. It was near impossible to float the bucket as I was going upstream and this section was shallow the whole way. I decided to dump my sand into a heavy duty trash bag that we were given during the “fitness test” and tie it to my backpack with my rope. This almost worked well. My rope was little too long though and because I had my helmet on the outside of my pack the bag of sand would swing to one side and dangle there digging one of the shoulder straps into my already sore shoulders. Oh well. Rather than spend extra time trying to work out a better system I opted once more to push on, another theme of the day. By the time I was around 3/4s of the way there who shows up again but Spencer. I had again worked through the challenge a little faster but he was crushing the river sections. Reflecting on this, I think the fact that he was wearing boots helped him considerably in this section. One of the hardest parts of the river walks was the pounding that your feet took. As well as the twisted ankles when your feet slid over the slippery rock your feet would also get wedged in between the rocks crushing them. For some reason too, this stretch of river seemed slimier and slipper than the earlier one, but it was probably just because my legs were growing more tired. Spencer and I trucked on together and eventually we saw our crew Leslie and Taylor out in the middle of the river marking an end to yet another section of the race.

The next challenge was manned by race volunteers and actually took place on their lawn. We were instructed to drop our packs and sand and were told that we would have lie down in the river for 3 minutes. After this we would then be required to roll around in the sand we had dumped and pick a number from a bowl. The number picked would correspond to a numbered log and you had to saw it into three sections. The logs varied in size with some being massive and some petite. The cuts were already started by a chain saw and some went straight through knotted sections. I wasn’t excited by more sawing but the river and sand didn’t sound too bad, and I was right. The river was cold but refreshing and the three minutes lying down were the only three minutes in the whole race that were spent off of the feet. The three minutes passed way too quickly and the sand was nasty but not bad. I drew number 29 and went to find my log. It was a little discouraging when I did find it as it was a bit thicker around than a large telephone pole, and of course it was maple. Ugh! I got to sawing. It was nice because Leslie was there for moral support as were Taylor and Spencer. It was nice to be able to chat a little as a majority of the time you were by yourself. In fact I ended up striking up quit a conversation with one of the kids running around the yard. I kept telling him how fun it was to be sawing logs, and suggested that he might want to try it out for himself, but he was a little too smart for that. Around the time I was starting on my third cut a wave a racers came in. It was nice too to see other competitors and how they were looking. I was surprised that a lot of strong people were behind me. I had no intention of trying to win, just trying to get finished, and finished as soon as I could. Coming in though I had been told that I was in eighth place, and I knew from my ultra running background that on races this long there were plenty of opportunities for leads to change. I was trying to keep constantly hydrated and fueled, as I knew there was still a long way to go, and I wasn’t sure, but I had a sneaking suspicion that a lot of other people weren’t taking as good care of themselves as they should. I knew that if they weren’t it would catch up with them later. Finally done sawing my log I got word of the next challenge; we would be mucking stalls at a sheep farm up the road. I headed off and Leslie walked with me.

We headed up a dirt road for around a mile until we saw cute little sheep basking in what had become a beautifully sunny day. Once at the barn I was shown to the sheep poo and told I had to take 30 of my 5 gallon buckets of it and run them up a ladder and dump them into the back of a dump truck. While I had imagined that it would be patty like and require copious amounts of shoveling, instead it seems that sheep poop pellets much like deer. This poop was mixed with the hay from the stalls and I found that the top section of the pile was much less condensed and easier to grab and stuff into the bucket. This challenge was much less physical than all the others and I decided to try and use it to make up a little time. I hurriedly stuffed poo in buckets and ran from the stall, up the ladder and back 30 times. Around my 15^th bucket Spencer came walking up the road, and before I was done one more racer had come in to the poo station. I was done though, and Leslie and I headed back down the road to the previous station. Once there it was back into the river, back under the bridge, through the culvert, under the barb wire, and back to Amee Farm.

Back at Amee Farm I was starting to slow. The next task was to carry all of the logs we had previously quartered and stacked, and restack them 200 yards to the left by the fire circle. I pulled out my rope and used it to lash together about 12-15 logs at a time. This way I managed to get all the wood moved in just a couple of trips. When I was done with the logs it was time for a break. It was around noon and the rain of the morning had passed, the sky had cleared, and the sun was getting hot. The next stage was doozy.  In addition to another bucket full of sand we had to carry a cross, and of course our gear (which weighed in wet at 30 lbs) and our marble up a small very steep ravine to the top of Joe’s Hill. Oh, and we were given an egg too. Just like before if we were to crack the egg we would have come all the way back and get a new one. I ate a couple of turkey sandwiches and chatted with Andy and the other racers and volunteers that were there. I asked Andy whether this was the last task and he coyly told me that “the end was in was in sight” and all I had to do was “get to the top and plant my cross.” I knew that Joe was manning the site on the top of the hill and I knew that there was no way he was going let us off that easy. The whole race there had been some friendly friction between Joe who obviously wanted to crush us and Andy whom it seemed wanted to see one person at least have a chance to finish the race. It seemed obvious to me that Andy was stationed at the bottom to provide motivation and a can do attitude to try and get us back out and up the hill, and Joe was stationed on top to crush our spirits one last time. Eventually I got up and began preparations to go back out. The cross consisted of two 10 foot long fence posts duct taped together. I managed to score two of the thinner posts. They were about the thickness of a large soup can. I wrapped a couple of loops of duct tape around them to bind them together and moved onto securing my egg. I wrapped it in my long sleeve shirt, duct taped it into a ball and then duct taped it into my otherwise pointless helmet. Then it was time to go.

I wrapped a bit of rope around the cross so I could pull it behind me under the barb wire, got down on my belly and began the trek. It actually wasn’t too hard to pull the cross along but pushing the bucket under the wire was getting tiring. I was allowed to skip the culvert this time as the cross wouldn’t fit. After the culvert section the course went across the river and up some snowmobile trail before heading off into the woods. This section was one of the most frustrating. On the flat open stretches you knew you should be moving along at a steady clip, but it was painful and awkward to carry the bucket and the cross, and by this point my heavy wet pack was starting to dig painfully into my shoulders. I tried a series of different strategies to make the going easier. I tried to use my cross like a pole, hanging my bucket from it, no good. I tried again to put my sand in the garbage bag tying it to my back pack, again, no good. Finally I resorted to just sucking it up and switching hands back and forth exchanging the cross and bucket. I would walk as far as I could handle and rest for a second. It was probably a half a mile from the culvert to the beginning of the ravine including a substantial incline.

I thought that the ravine was one of the most pleasant parts of the whole race. It was brutal, overhanging trees, stinging nettle, and loose, slippery rocks combined with a serious pitch made it super difficult, but the scenery was spectacular. Much like the early morning river walk, this was Vermont at its finest. The ravine housed a swift flowing stream that trickled down moss ridden rocks into small pools. The heat of the day was minimized by the cooling water and shade of the trees. I’m sure there were birds chirping and small woodland creatures poking their cute little noses over logs too, but I couldn’t quite appreciate everything that the day had to offer. Still though, the scenery was enough to keep my mind somewhat off of the pain and difficulty and I made relatively good time up the ravine, even passing another racer. I knew that this put me into 7^th place and I idly thought about my chances to make it into the money. I would lift my bucket up a tier or two of rock and step up with my cross and then lift my bucket again. This way I never had to carry my bucket far, just lift it again and again. It reminded me quite a bit of lifting weights as the same motion was repeated over and over again. Set the bucket down and jerk it up to the next shelf, set it down, jerk it up, all the while of course carrying my pack and cross. The cross was somewhat manageable, but I had to shift shoulders often as they were becoming increasingly sore. Often the cross would get caught on low hanging branches and occasionally there were dead and down trees lying over the ravine. When I came upon these most often I would set my bucket down and toss the cross over and as far ahead as I could, climb over with my bucket and start the whole process again. I don’t know how long this took but I would guess an hour or two.

As I was climbing my way out of the ravine and onto the final section of trail leading to the summit I heard someone yelling. Eventually I ran into them and it turns out they were looking for a racer named Chris. I had met Chris last weekend at the Ultra where he was a volunteer. Chris had been thru hiking the Appalachian Trail when Joe ran across him somewhere near the course and asked if he wanted to work for a day. Probably ready for a break and a little extra cash Chris had said yes and helped with the Ultra. He had stuck around for the week and decided to race in the Death Division this weekend. Chris had actually been the first place leader with a good solid lead for the whole race. He had left Amee Farm still in first place but had yet to show up at the top of Joe’s Hill. It was obvious he had taken a wrong turn and people were out looking for him. I informed the person that I hadn’t seen Chris, but did know of a spot where it might have been easy to get off course, and continued on my way. It registered that this put me in sixth, just one spot out of the money, but I was too tired and focused on getting to the top where I could set down my cross to raise any sort of emotion. There was still a good way to go after the ravine and the canopy thinned making it painfully hot again. A bit of rain cooled it down for second, only to heat it up again when it stopped. Luckily the closer to the top I got the more the breeze picked up. I expected to pass the leaders coming back down at some point and about a quarter mile from the top I was passed by them but in the wrong direction. They were headed back up and not looking happy at all. I managed to delay them long enough to find out what they were up to. It turns out that the top not surprisingly (in my mind anyway) wasn’t the end at all and after planting your cross the next step was to retrieve your body weight in stones from a spot lower on the hill, haul them back up to the summit and place them around your cross. Ugh! It was a bit discouraging knowing the next task before I had even gotten done with the present one, but the summit was in sight and I just concentrated on making it that far.

Leslie, the awesome crewer that she was, was there to meet me at the top and when I got there I was surprised to see that there weren’t very many people there at all. The two leaders had planted their crosses and two or three others were in the process. This was one time when hauling my backpack full of optional tools felt worth while. While the others were using their hands or sticks to dig through the rocky summit soil I whipped out my folding shovel and got to work. It didn’t take long at all to dig a perfect little whole and jam my cross down into it. Relieved at having made it to the top, I took a minute to rest. The top of Joe’s Hill has been cleared and there is a beautiful view of the surrounding peaks and valleys. I had stood on this summit in every Peak race other than McNaughton, but never had it felt as satisfying as this time.  As I was reaching the top of the ravine with my cross I thought I might have a chance of getting to the top by 3pm which would give me 12 solid hours to finish. I was a little shy of my goal and by the time I had planted my cross it was probably around 3:30. Not wanting to loose too much time or motivation I moved onto the next task.

 I emptied my backpack, threw on my gloves and followed the trail back down to the rocks. Around a quarter mile from the summit there was an old dilapidated rock wall we were suppose to gather the rocks from. The rock selection wasn’t very good. They were either huge or too small to feel substantial. I had decided on the way down that my strategy would be to try and get just a couple larger rocks with the thought that carrying more, smaller rocks amounted to a lot of space wasted to air. I took a few minutes to select the rocks that fit the best in my backpack and find a nice sized one to carry in my arms. By the time I was leaving the rock pile Spencer had caught up to me. He was just a few minutes behind me as I left the farm earlier and I had seen him at the summit as I was leaving. Now he was catching up to me again. It was kind of nice to have someone familiar to share the toil with and I still wasn’t too concerned with placing or the money. Walking up the hill with the first load of rocks was slow going. I had to stop every 100 feet and rest. I would either set the heavy rock on a trailside log or stump, or just rest with it on my thigh. I could feel myself growing hot, and my pulse was growing heavy in my ears. I took it slow and by the time I made it back to the top they had found a scale to start weighing people’s stones. I went straight to the scale and threw down my rocks. My large rock weighed 65lbs, and my total weight for the first trip was 95lbs! All I needed was 85 lbs on the next trip and I would be done with the rocks in just two trips! As I went down for my second trip, I saw a number of racers bearing crosses up the hill. I gave encouragement and the approximate distance to each one. Most of these people were looking seriously beat. I had to give them kudo’s for pushing this far. Back at the rock wall I selected more rocks, but with the limited selection I was worried that I would fall just short of my goal weight and have to come back down for just five or ten more pounds. I selected one large rock that just fit in my pack and grabbed another big one to carry up. This one felt lighter and smaller than the last but it was the largest one manageable so I went with what I had. The trip to the top was little quicker but by the time I arrived at the top most of the cross bearers were already there. They seemed to be engaged in some sort of argument with Joe. Apparently many had taken Andy’s word a little too literal and were pissed. There were some big angry guys, and one angry lady. Joe’s no slouch in his own right but I wouldn’t have wanted to be in his shoes. These people were huge and they were pissed. They were accusing him of just making up new sections as the others were completed so that he wouldn’t have to payout any money. I’ll admit it did seem a little like that was the case at times but it was also kinda silly to be such a spoil sport, its called the Death Race after all, and there were still almost 12 hours left to finish if need be. Joe was trying to call down to Andy and everyone was bitching and moaning. Part of me wanted to wait and see how this all ended in case it landed favorably on my side but most of me just wanted my rocks weighed and to get on to the next section. I managed to pull Joe away for a minute to weigh my stones. This batched weighed in at 100lbs! Onto the next section!

Because the first and second place racers had already moved onto the next stage I knew what it was; racers had to travel down a long path under some barb wire and to a spring to fill their buckets with water. We had to haul our body weight in water back! Ugh! This was a little disheartening, but I had a feeling that we were nearing the finish and I knew that sucky as it was, with 12 hrs left I could at least finish this section. Rumors had spread that it would take around an hour each trip. A full bucket weighed 50lbs which meant at least four trips for most people. Ready to go out for water, it turned out that there were two others waiting to be shown the path that led to the spring too. Currently the three of us were tied for 3^rd place, and all three of us were sitting in money spots! I later found out that the former third place racer had gone off course on the path for the rocks. While the path was rather straight forward he somehow missed a turn off and ended up at a wedding! As well as owning Peak Races Joe also runs a gorgeous high-end wedding hall located at the bottom of Joe’s Hill. Joe ended up getting a call from his wife who runs the wedding center saying that there was a racer here who “wanted to know where he could find the rocks”! This racer ended up finishing in eighth place, but it just goes to show that anything can happen in these longer races. While Joe was busy pacifying the masses the three of us were shown the start to water stage by a volunteer.

A meandering trail ran for a good while and then led to a long section of barb wire. This section was longer than the one at the start but mercifully the wire was a little higher making it easier to pass through. We were required to carry our eggs during this section as well and were not allowed to carry our packs, this meant that my egg was in my pocket and boy was I worried about cracking it. After the barb wire the course moved into the woods and we bushwhacked following prodigious amounts of ribbon. It seemed very unlikely that Joe would have been able to string up barb wire and mark the course this well spontaneously. It was obvious that this part of the course had been planned from the start. The trail led through the woods, down a small cliff like section and onto a fire road. Back into the woods for a small section we eventually were led to a small stream and another culvert. The path led through the culvert and at the end of it was where we were suppose to fill our buckets. I had on my long sleeve shirt at this point and after filling my bucket I used it as a cover to help prevent spilling. The three of us were still together at this point, and I waited for them to fill their buckets before going back with mine.  As we started on our way back it seemed like they were a littler slower in getting going, and I just kept on. I wasn’t concerned about winning or anything just about keeping my momentum and trying to get done as soon as possible. I later learned that one of them had dropped their bucket and had to go back to refill it. I managed to make my way under the wire and waddle my way back up to the summit passing the 6^th place racer and Spencer who was now in 7^th on my way.

When I reached the top I had a couple nice surprises. As well as Leslie, Amy and Dan were waiting for me at the summit. It’s always so nice to see friendly faces in this kind of race. It’s amazing what it can do to lift the spirits, but what lifted my spirits even more was Joe telling me that I was done. Whether under pressure or just sheer decency or just not wanting to hang out at the top of the hill all night (the race staff had been up 30+ hrs too) they had decided to drop down the required amount of water! I emptied my bucket full of water and rejoiced. All I had to do was make it back to the bottom (following the same path, of course) with my egg, my gear, my marble and my bucket of sand. Joe also, thoughtfully jammed a couple of rocks from underneath my cross in my bucket for good measure. As I repacked my egg and gear, Thomas, one of the guys who I went to get water with showed up. He was much quicker about getting his gear packed and we left for the last leg together.

My bucket was HEAVY, those extra rocks, the marble and tired muscles made the going slow, especially at first. When we managed to get into the ravine I picked it up a little as I could just reverse the process I used coming up. I would drop the bucket down a couple of tiers, slip, slide down beside it and repeat. Still It was slick and slimy going, and fatigue was setting in a little. I felt like we were making good time though, but as we approached the bottom of the ravine I looked up to see that we were being overtaken by another racer! Crap! It turned out to be David, the other water guy, and we hustled up together. We didn’t mind traveling together as we were all in position to win some money but we were a little concerned that the current 6^th place racer would try to make up ground and challenge us. No one wanted to turn this into a real race this late in the game and this close to the finish. We picked up our pace, made it out of the ravine and began the last leg across the river back to the Farm and the start/finish. While we were all working together it became apparent at this point that there was some jockeying for position going on. Everyone’s pace began to quicken and while I had been leading the whole way Thomas sped up and made his way to the front of the group. At this point we were all carrying our buckets on our backs resting them on the top o