Death at Dupuis - 4.167 miles every hour
Death at Dupuis, Canal Point, Florida. Organized and directed by Ashley Heclo.
It's not your typical race. I'm not sure I would even call it a race. The concept is modeled after Big's Backyard in Tennessee, the brainchild of Laz, an eccentric race director best known for hosting the Barkley Marathons.
The concept: run a 4.166667 mile loop on the hour, every hour until you can't run anymore. There is one winner- the last person standing. No age group awards. No placing. No t-shirt, medal, or other swag. No aid stations. Just stay in the race or don't.
Simple.
Why in the world would anyone want to do this? No bling? No race swag? No bag check? No expo? No entry fee.
I entered it for the same reason I've entered most events in the last few years... to see what my body is capable of. What are my limits? How long could I keep running?
I didn't train for this.
Well, not really. I ran a PR in the Miami Marathon two weeks ago. I knew I had miles on my legs to go 30 miles. Except all my miles were road miles. Trails are different, with your feet continually shifting and making adjustments as they encounter roots, ruts, and rocks. And there was that PR. "Trashed" was the word I used to describe my legs on Monday, just 5 days before the race, the day after a long run and the day of heavy front squats.
My goal was to be the last female running.
My dream was to reach 100 miles. Reading the previous paragraph, you may have already guessed I didn't finish close to 100. I ran 40... well, 41 and change. I was the last woman to quit.
My plan was to finish each loop between 50 and 55 minutes.
My friend Becky and I finished our first lap in 53 minutes. (BIG shout-out to Becky who ran her longest distance ever! And stayed to support me for several hours. She left only after I assured her she was making it hard for me to go back out each lap because I just wanted to sit and hang out with her.) All other laps were completed in about 51 minutes. With the exception of the 9th, which I finished in 53, and the final, which I think I finished in 56.
The course was well marked and magnificent.
When you're out there for 10 hours on loops and mostly running alone, the course becomes a friend. A few hours in and I had made it my own. Whether it was the heat, lack of calories, my own creativity or delusions... I named sections. There was Pine Cone Garden, followed closely by Palm Frond Valley, The Grasslands, the Cute Pile of Poo, My Favorite White Blaze, the Curvy Tree, and the blessed Place Where You Can See the Cars. (Like I said, I think there was some delirium.) At one point I thought I must take pictures, but then I thought it would ruin the magic. And now I wish I could show you those pictures I didn't take.
I learned the importance of a crew.
This was my first race where I had a crew. Just knowing I would come in and see a friendly face each loop was a prize. She helped me focus on getting what I needed and getting back out. And I'm not sure she realized how much she helped me when she asked me what my wrist tattoo means-- it gave me the opportunity to think about my sister and carry her once again with me on the trail. After my 9th lap, the final one I needed to run to be the last female running, I was done. Yet even as I crossed the cones marking the end of the loop, I thought about 9 and 36ish miles as opposed to 10 and 40ish. I told Ashley at the finish that I thought I was out. AND THEN two other runners, whose races had just ended quickly approached and asked what I needed to stay in the race. They had it all. Really. I'm not sure what all they had but they listed the contents of what sounded like an entire grocery store. All I heard was "boiled potatoes and salt." Magic. Eating a salted boiled potato in the middle of a lot of running would make me a true ultra-runner (again, delirium). They wooed me back out with that potato. That deliciously magical boiled potato with all its salty goodness gave me just enough of a boost to get back to the start. Suddenly, I was back on my feet with another lap to go.
I earned my first DNF.
Did Not Finish. Officially, I didn't finish. Only one runner did. I quit. And that's tough to swallow. I may have had 2 more laps in me. I was already walking quite a bit, so the time was catching me. And my left foot was aching something fiercely. I had another 5 hour race a week later. Quitting when I did would allow me to still run next weekend. And make it home in time for a pizza date night with my husband.
"What the heck did you just do?"
This might be the run that's earned the most of these type of questions. And then I get even weirder looks when I say, I had the MOST AMAZING time! Most people don't understand. I really don't even understand. When I'm out there running, my brain just seems to slow down and all my thoughts get a chance to sort themselves out. At Miami, I ran 18 miles before I thought to use music to distract me. For DaD, I think it was my 7th lap before I remember to grab my phone. It's nature. It's feeling. It's me against myself. It's brutal and I can't wait to do it again.
Ashley Heclo, you hosted an amazing event. Thank you for daring to dream and working to make this event a reality in Florida. You're a quality human being, and I hope we have the time to talk a little more in the future.
It's not your typical race. I'm not sure I would even call it a race. The concept is modeled after Big's Backyard in Tennessee, the brainchild of Laz, an eccentric race director best known for hosting the Barkley Marathons.The concept: run a 4.166667 mile loop on the hour, every hour until you can't run anymore. There is one winner- the last person standing. No age group awards. No placing. No t-shirt, medal, or other swag. No aid stations. Just stay in the race or don't.
Simple.
Why in the world would anyone want to do this? No bling? No race swag? No bag check? No expo? No entry fee.
I entered it for the same reason I've entered most events in the last few years... to see what my body is capable of. What are my limits? How long could I keep running?
I didn't train for this.
Well, not really. I ran a PR in the Miami Marathon two weeks ago. I knew I had miles on my legs to go 30 miles. Except all my miles were road miles. Trails are different, with your feet continually shifting and making adjustments as they encounter roots, ruts, and rocks. And there was that PR. "Trashed" was the word I used to describe my legs on Monday, just 5 days before the race, the day after a long run and the day of heavy front squats.
My goal was to be the last female running.
My dream was to reach 100 miles. Reading the previous paragraph, you may have already guessed I didn't finish close to 100. I ran 40... well, 41 and change. I was the last woman to quit.
My plan was to finish each loop between 50 and 55 minutes.
My friend Becky and I finished our first lap in 53 minutes. (BIG shout-out to Becky who ran her longest distance ever! And stayed to support me for several hours. She left only after I assured her she was making it hard for me to go back out each lap because I just wanted to sit and hang out with her.) All other laps were completed in about 51 minutes. With the exception of the 9th, which I finished in 53, and the final, which I think I finished in 56.
The course was well marked and magnificent.
When you're out there for 10 hours on loops and mostly running alone, the course becomes a friend. A few hours in and I had made it my own. Whether it was the heat, lack of calories, my own creativity or delusions... I named sections. There was Pine Cone Garden, followed closely by Palm Frond Valley, The Grasslands, the Cute Pile of Poo, My Favorite White Blaze, the Curvy Tree, and the blessed Place Where You Can See the Cars. (Like I said, I think there was some delirium.) At one point I thought I must take pictures, but then I thought it would ruin the magic. And now I wish I could show you those pictures I didn't take.I learned the importance of a crew.
This was my first race where I had a crew. Just knowing I would come in and see a friendly face each loop was a prize. She helped me focus on getting what I needed and getting back out. And I'm not sure she realized how much she helped me when she asked me what my wrist tattoo means-- it gave me the opportunity to think about my sister and carry her once again with me on the trail. After my 9th lap, the final one I needed to run to be the last female running, I was done. Yet even as I crossed the cones marking the end of the loop, I thought about 9 and 36ish miles as opposed to 10 and 40ish. I told Ashley at the finish that I thought I was out. AND THEN two other runners, whose races had just ended quickly approached and asked what I needed to stay in the race. They had it all. Really. I'm not sure what all they had but they listed the contents of what sounded like an entire grocery store. All I heard was "boiled potatoes and salt." Magic. Eating a salted boiled potato in the middle of a lot of running would make me a true ultra-runner (again, delirium). They wooed me back out with that potato. That deliciously magical boiled potato with all its salty goodness gave me just enough of a boost to get back to the start. Suddenly, I was back on my feet with another lap to go.I earned my first DNF.
Did Not Finish. Officially, I didn't finish. Only one runner did. I quit. And that's tough to swallow. I may have had 2 more laps in me. I was already walking quite a bit, so the time was catching me. And my left foot was aching something fiercely. I had another 5 hour race a week later. Quitting when I did would allow me to still run next weekend. And make it home in time for a pizza date night with my husband.
"What the heck did you just do?"
This might be the run that's earned the most of these type of questions. And then I get even weirder looks when I say, I had the MOST AMAZING time! Most people don't understand. I really don't even understand. When I'm out there running, my brain just seems to slow down and all my thoughts get a chance to sort themselves out. At Miami, I ran 18 miles before I thought to use music to distract me. For DaD, I think it was my 7th lap before I remember to grab my phone. It's nature. It's feeling. It's me against myself. It's brutal and I can't wait to do it again.
Ashley Heclo, you hosted an amazing event. Thank you for daring to dream and working to make this event a reality in Florida. You're a quality human being, and I hope we have the time to talk a little more in the future.
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