Death Race Race Report: Part 1

Lisa after the Death Race 2010
10lbs of onions. $50.00 in pennies. One fence post hole digger. One book on learning Greek. One knife. This was going to be the strangest gear list for a race yet.

The race organizers issued this list of mandatory gear a couple of months before the race start date of Saturday June 27, 2010 so there was plenty of time for speculation on what they would be needed for.

The Death Race is held in the scenic and hilly area of Pittsfield, VT. I have done Peak’s snowshoe marathon a couple of times so learned about this grueling challenging event through their website.

I have been running trail ultramarathons for five years. I like the challenge of seeing how far I can run while keeping mind and body together. The Death Race appealed to me because of its mix of physical demands – carrying heavy loads, crawling through swamps under barbed wire, and whatever else the organizers had devised – and mental challenges like having to memorize a list of names while exhausted and sleep deprived, or translating a Greek sentence. This was going to involve more than just running a set number of miles and I was excited.  I watched videos of previous years’ races to see what additional training I might need. I already had a good running and endurance base, and decent functional conditioning from Crossfit – I am a member of Crossfit NYC.

My goal was to finish the race but with all the unknown factors – duration, distance, types of tasks, etc. – it was going to be difficult to pace myself.

I showed up at the preface briefing ‘race ready’ as specified by the RD’s. $50.00 in pennies weighs about 28 lbs, plus the onions, book, some water, made for a 45lb pack. It was Friday evening, the race was scheduled to start 04:00 Saturday. I expected a couple of hours for the meeting, then a chance for some sleep before the race.

The RD’s had other ideas though. After a short chat on a dirt road up the side of hill, we were formed into teams of 8, included 2 women on each team. We each had to carry just our pennies and Greek book in a bucket, along with the team carrying a 16-foot long bridge made of wood planks. The advertized ‘tour of the course’ became ‘carrying 28lbs in a bucket plus a heavy unwieldy wooden bridge’ for miles through the darkening woods on narrow muddy trails, up one side of the mountain and down the other. The bridge was tough to carry as it was the width of the trail, so those carrying it on the sides were walking through brush and rocks and avoiding trees.

Time became a blur as we hauled for hours through the woods. This first task introduced the teamwork theme that would dominate the race for many – working together to solve problems, sharing loads, sharing of food and water, and staying in groups when navigating tough trails at night.

We were finally allowed to deposit the bridges on a mountain bike trail sometime around midnight. Arms and shoulders were thoroughly worked. Or so we thought. We were marched back to where we started, still carrying pennies and book, and told to fill our buckets with gravel. Women could carry a half full bucket, men had to carry the full load. There is no easy way to carry a bucket that heavy for long. It swings and bangs into legs, forearms get pumped, grip strength starts to fail. We staggered down the hill, past the barbed wire course (ooh it looked long and nasty), and onto another trail. Some people found thick branches and loaded a bucket on each end like a yoke, and took turns carrying it. I ripped the belt off my pants and used it as a strap to drag the bucket along the ground, which was fine until the handle came off the bucket. I thought back to my stair workouts where I would carry a 5 gallon bottle of water up the 26 floors of my office building. That bottle was a lot more comfortable to carry than the sharp-edged plastic bucket.

We were told to deposit the gravel along various points of the trail where it was muddy and eroding. I began to think this race was organized more for the free heavy labor than anything else!

It was now around 03:30 and we had to hustle to the start area in time for the 04:00 ‘start’, STILL carrying pennies and book in bucket. Despite being led along shortcuts and crossing a river most of the racers did not get to the Amee Farm start area until 04:15.

Worn out from the previous hours’ effort and lack of sleep, some people quit then and there. I got busy rehydrating and having some Ensure for breakfast, before tackling the first task – a Greek translation. I worked together with a guy named Mark from my bridge-carrying team and it was very easy.

After a quick interview in the barn, we were sent on our next task: retrieve our packs from where they had been left earlier. If we did not have an axe we could also purchase one there with some of our pennies, as there would be a wood chopping task coming up. Some people had axes with them just in case but I did not. Still, I had the cash for it and would gladly offload some of that weight. The ‘axe shop’ was 4 miles away up over the mountain and down the other side, STILL carrying the pennies and book in bucket. I managed to find a bucket with handle and got a strap from my drop bag to help carry the load more comfortably.

A slow steady trudge in the beautiful early morning woods got us to the dirt road leading up to the axe shop. We were directed right into the barbed wire course, which involved a lot of scooching along on belly or back, dragging or pushing the bucket, uphill. The video crew followed us closely from the road, interviewing us as we struggled along. The ground was alternately stony or muddy. At one point a field mouse popped down beside me then scuttled away in fright. It got crowded when people who were on their return journey from this task were coming BACK DOWN the same way, so I knew I would be doing the same myself soon enough. The last few feet of crawling was through the sloppiest mud yet and then I was back on two legs, clothes a uniform grey with mud and torn by the barbed wire.

The axe shop had water, thankfully, as I was completely out. Carrying the mandatory heavy gear meant I carried the minimum amount of fluids with me. This was not so bad as the maximum distance between tasks was 4 miles. However, the axe shop attendant told us that the bank had foreclosed on the store and he was now a bank employee. He could not release our packs or even sell axes without going BACK to the Amee Farm the way we had come to retrieve a document from them. We could not get anything from our packs either. However, we could deposit anything we were carrying there. I gladly dropped off my bucket and headed back down the barbed wire course. It was easier bellycrawling downhill although I could feel knees and thighs being jabbed on rocks.

Now that I was completely unencumbered I could run the trail back to the farm. It felt great to run although quads were feeling the effects of the night’s work.

Back at the farm, after some wrangling, I was able to retrieve the document allowing me to buy an axe and retrieve me pack. I wrapped the precious paper in a plastic bag and after a quick drink I was back on the trail. On the way though I learned from others travelling back and forth that while you could obtain an axe at the axe shop, you had to PAY for it at the farm. So people arriving with their document in hand but no pennies were turned back to the farm AGAIN to pay out the pennies and get proof of purchase. The head games dreamed up by the organizers were very devious. However, I figured I would beg or borrow an axe back at the farm and avoid the extra over and back trip.

Another crawl up the barbed wire and through the mud, and I was at the axe shop. I presented my document and retrieved my pack and posthole digger. I discarded the bucket and stuffed everything in my pack. I found that the previous night’s arduous carry of bridge and bucket put every subsequent load into perspective. It was much easier to shoulder a heavy pack than carry weight in one hand. Mark and another guy, Reid, and I teamed up to go back through the barbed wire course, since now we had packs and post hold diggers to drag along too. We worked together well, tossing packs and tools ahead of us, holding the barbed wire up as one of us scooched through. We held the wire for others coming up the slope too, as the two-way traffic continued.

Mark offered to share his axe with me, which was a relief. We arrived back at the farm, and took care of food and water before asking about the next task. We had to split and quarter 30 logs, or we could buy our way out by paying $12.50 to do farmwork instead. I could see the 1st and 2nd place women already doing that, it looked much easier than chopping wood: 15 wheelbarrow loads of sheep poop carried from the barn to the manure pile, maybe 2/3 of a mile at most, on level ground. Easy! I took my time back and forth and the race volunteer in charge counted down the 15 loads. It was just like a burpee WOD, tedious but doable. The two woman ahead of me finished and took off for their next task.

Mark finished his woodchopping in record time and I was soon finished the wheelbarrow loads. We were told to carry all our gear up to the pond across the road for the next task.

We had to layout all our pennies, in rolls or loose (some rolls had burst), set aside half of it, and combine the other half into a giant pile of pennies. No rolls allowed. It was about 14:00 then (maybe, I really had no concept of time elapsed at this point, it was all in the moment) and a light drizzle was falling. I had $37.50 on me after buying my way out of the woodchopping, so I set out $18.75 in pennies. Then I was instructed to distribute them into ziplock bags with exactly $5.00 in each, plus the leftover $3.75. It was comfortable to sit on the cool damp grass and meditatively count pennies. The video crew was ever present of course but their questions did not interrupt the counting.

With my 4 bags of pennies all ready, the race volunteer in charge took one $5 bag, and along with two similar-sized bags of rocks, flung them into the pond and told me to retrieve my pennies. I could chose to abandon the money, but I might be in dire need of it later to buy out of a task or to purchase a valuable tool or clue. I was eager to jump in and wash off some of the mud. The pond was deliciously cool, although so murky that I could not see even with the swim goggles they provided. I was occasionally out of my depth but with the help of some spectactors who had a good idea where my pennies went I was able to feel around with my bare feet. I found the pennies, duckdived a few attempts before triumphantly holding the bag aloft. I really could have done without the weight but I wanted to succeed at this task.

Back on dry land I was told to gather up my stuff and go back to the farm for the next task. I was shivering in my wet clothes so was glad to go back to my drop bag and completely change clothes, shoes, underwear, the works. Most of the mud had been washed off so I felt like a new woman. It was about 17:00 now so I had been going for about 22 hours straight. Time still seemed irrelevant although I wondered about how long into Sunday this would continue. The race directors kept mentioning that it looked like we could still be there doing the race into Tuesday or Wednesday, given the slow pace people were going and how much was still to be done. More head games but at the time I was still under the impression they were serious. And when would we get to the post hole digging task? That thing was still strapped on my pack unused all this time.

The next task was to carry full pack and gear to a cabin a couple of miles away. Mark and I headed out together, following a trail through the woods marked by pink ribbons. The post hole tool was useful as a walking stick on the steep climb. We soon came to a gravel road which was a relief to walk on, and the climb up was gentle for a change. A full moon was appearing and it would soon be time to turn on headlamps.

We arrived a cabin where a couple of race organizers were relaxing by a fire. The first place guy, a trainer from San Diego, was already on his return journey and doing amazingly well. It was fortunate as we heard what was ahead of us. At this check point he was busy eating one pound of raw onion, and not enjoying it. He finished up and was told to head back to the wooden bridge beside the pond with just his Greek book, and translate the sentence that was under the bridge.

Meanwhile, Mark and I were directed to continue up the road to see the Onion King at the Onion Store. More onion stuff? The climb up the road was steep and rocky. It leveled out eventually and then the pink ribbons just lead down into the woods again, through brush and over logs and downed trees. It was steep bushwhacking and again the posthole tool helped. I was wondering what it would be like following this trail back in the dark, it was hard enough to follow in daylight.

Stefanie, the first place girl came charging up the hill – she said it was a really long climb and that we would be eating onions at the Onion Store. I apologetically told her she would be eating them when she got back to the cabin too, if she did not know it already. Still, she was still on a mission and moving very fast.

Eventually after much meandering and hearing cars on nearby roads, we came to a mowed lawn that led up to a quaint stone house on the side of the hill. It was full dark now and the cozy glow from the stone arched garage adjoining the house was welcoming. The Onion King, Roger, and his wife, were our hosts. Here the tasks were to chop up our 10 lbs of onions, eat one pound of them, then do 10 wheelbarrow loads of wood from the woodpile to the garage. More chores! There were two cords of wood to be stacked. The wheelbarrows were in use by other racers so Mark and I sat down to the table and started chopping. It felt like a cooking show, everyone chopping away and chatting. Onions were divided into ten one-pound bags. Some people were chowing down unhappily. There was a bbq grill available to cook the onions so I put two pounds in foil wrappers to roast nicely. After gels, Ensure and sports drinks all day I was craving savoury food and the onions would be delicious roasted. One pound was for now and I would take the other cooked pound with me to eat down at the cabin.

Onions chopped, I got on a wheel barrow and ran back and forth, feeling rejuvenated after the sit down and conversation. The Onion Queen did the stacking and I got the 10 loads over with fast. By then my onion was done and I ate it hungrily. Red onions get nice and soft when roasted and are sweeter than yellow ones.

The Onion King was offering advice for anyone who donated $25.00 at this station. Mark must have heard something about this as he advised me to do it. He was going to drop out at this point as he was tired and facing a long drive in the morning, although I tried to talk him into staying. He generously gave me his pennies so I would not spend all of mine.

This proved to be such a great idea of Mark’s and I am eternally grateful, because as I was getting the $25:00 together, the first place guy is arriving BACK here, Greek book in hand, because he could not translate the phrase. So in the time it took us to get up here and get into tasks, he had run back to the pond, where he could not figure out the translation. He had to go back to the cabin where we had seen him, where they told him he had to go up to the Onion King for the phrase. That is fast but wow what an effort, doing that final bushwhack trail in the dark. My donation to the fund mean Roger whispered in my ear the translation which I very carefully wrote down.

I said goodbye to Mark, thanked him profusely, and teamed up with a group of guys who were heading back to the cabin. Safety in numbers and teamwork were on everybody’s mind. On the way back to the cabin, the second place girl was also on her way back as she too did not make the donation and could not translate the phrase.

Back to the cabin, where we got our onion-eating orders. Mine were still slightly warm. Even the race director there asked for a bite and liked the taste. I got out of there and headed back to the pond to see the Greek phrase and be certain I had the right information. The sentence was ‘The race is one-quarter complete’ and the Greek words seemed to follow this so I told the race volunteer in charge there the phrase and he sent me down to the barn for the next task.

I downed some Red Bull to try to get the onion aftertaste out of my mouth (it didn’t), then got to the next task: inflate an inner tube with the world’s smallest hand pump. It took a while but again I got to sit down and zone out while pumping. I almost dozed off. Sleep was threatening. However, the first place guy finished while I was there and that was a great celebration.

Once the tyre was inflated, they told me to take all my gear and the tube and head to covered bridge farm for the next task.

At the bridge, the task director took me to a nearby pond where I had to stand waist deep in the freezing water, with my inner tube around my waist, and translate a Greek word using my book. My mind was foggy but with three other racers in the pond too someone figured it out and we could go stand by the campfire to thaw out. Feet were numb but no way was I going to quit at that point.

The first place woman and another guy had finished their tasks here and were heading to the finish line so I knew there could not be too much left to do at this point.

Next task – carry about 30% of our bodyweight in sand up over the mountain to the axe store, where we would collector our finisher award!!!! Then come back down the pond. With only the bag of sand to carry we flew up the trails. I was feeling exhilarated that I was still in the game and was going to finish, no matter what other tasks might still lie ahead.

I got to the axe store ahead of the others, no crawling through the barbed wire this time, whew! I was presented my finisher skull by Peter, the axe store/banker guy. He said to head back to the pond however I wanted. I knew how to get there by road and it was all downhill so I took off running, enjoying my second early morning sunshine. This was about 06:00 so I had been on the go for 34 hours or so. I was happy to have a new ‘longest time on feet’ PR, beating my previous time of 26:45 hours on a 100-miler last year.

I ran and ran and ran, enjoying the birdsong and passing silent houses. All this drama had been going on while people went on with their weekend activities. It was like being in a parallel universe.

I got back to the pond and showed my skull to the director there. He told me I was almost done, to pick up all my gear and follow the trail to the river. I was to tube downriver about one mile until I got to the bridge near the farm. I was familiar with this from all the back and forth earlier.

Tubing was difficult in 2 feet of water where rocks poked up frequently. I had let my pack float beside me, with a firm grip!, and use the posthole tool to push off rocks or pole along. Thankfully I had a flotation vest on. I actually stood up and walked a lot of it, even though the footing was slippery. It was better than my butt constantly banging into submerged rocks. The few times the river did get deeper I took advantage and hopped on the tube and it was sweet to be off my feet. I had never tubed before so this was a fun experience. The water was refreshingly cool.

Soon the bridge appeared, and spectators and video crew were present. I got to dry land, shouldered my soaking wet extra heavy pack (tried not to think about the onions swilling about in there with my remaining pennies) and hit the trail. I marched hard knowing the finish was less than half a mile away. I charged up the last slope to the finish area by the barn. Andy, the race director, was on me in a flash, pointing out the last task before I could cross the line: 100 pushups!

I had to laugh. How many times have I done that and more in a WOD? I dropped my gear, got into the pushup circle, and got busy. The race directors said mine were the strictest they had seen from everyone to date – thank you Crossfit! I had dirt all down my front from going chest to ground – ironic since I had been nice and clean from the river tubing.

I got the 100th one done to cheers and applause and could finally cross the finish line. I was happy in a dazed way, lack of sleep and output of effort for about 36 hours finally hitting me.

I know I finished 2nd female and maybe 10th overall – still waiting for results to be posted.

I already want to go back next year, armed to the teeth with straps, webbing, packs, etc. as no way am I carrying buckets again!!!

I still have a trace of the onion taste but it is fading. As are the bruises. And scratches. And mosquito bites. My sense of accomplishment and selfconfidence is never going to fade though.