2022 CRUEL JEWEL 100
Background
I ran my first 100 mile race in January, the Long Haul 100. Even before this race, I think it was early December, I was looking for my next adventure once Long haul was complete (Yes I can get overly ambitious) and that’s when the Cruel Jewel popped up on my radar. I’ve always loved the mountains of North Georgia and the Carolinas, and the race name, buckle, and allure all piqued my interest. I held off on signing up for the race, and after a successful Long Haul I found the race had filled up and I put my name down for the CJ100 waitlist.
My next major race was Swamp 100k in March, a 100k race in the Graham Swamp of Florida that takes place partly over mountain bike trails (50k) and partly on a paved trail (50k) that boosts 2k feet elevation gain/loss over the trail section. Long story short, I went into this race hoping to podium, and ended up DNFing at the 50k mark. I was pretty devastated and resigned myself to just not being ready for this difficult of a race. After a few days of feeling sorry for myself I decided to make a detailed race report, and found that my hydration sucked, my starting pace was too high, and a few other minor factors. I also didn’t plan for the heat, which being March in Florida you can forgive me for not expecting 90’s with high humidity. After this detailed retrospect, I made the decision to train my ass off, over the next two months and assume I’d make it off the waitlist in time. 3 weeks before the race, I received the email for my spot in the Cruel Jewel and I signed up immediately.
Training
Training consisted of 3 main factors:
1. Base endurance training
2. Intelligent cross training
3. Heat Acclimation
After reading Jason Koop’s book “Training Essentials for Ultra-running”, I made the decision to follow his advice and make base aerobic conditioning my main focus. I prioritized running, and put everything else second. If I had cross training, I’d try my best to do that after my daily run. Not much else to say here, just kept it simple with Zone 2 runs and some speed days mixed in.
I think I owe Knees over toes guy a lot for this race. He claims his program “bulletproofs” your knees, and I feel like I’m a walking testament to this claim. During the entirety of the race (and even post-race) my knees, ankles, and hips felt fine, with the only pains being muscular. I primarily performed workouts from his program, focusing mainly on ATG Split Squats, Slant board work (calf raises, squats, paloquin step downs), assisted Nordic curls, leg raises with Monkey Feet, and hamstring curls with Monkey Feet. I also performed heavy trap bar deadlifts, and band pull aparts to strengthen my arm and back muscles that would be used for trekking pole maneuvering. I did sets of exercises at work through the day, much to the amusement of my coworkers. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see me bobbing up and down doing calf raises, or walk into my cube and see my doing single leg work with the Monkey Feet.
Finally, heat acclimation. We don’t have mountains in Florida, but we have plenty of heat and humidity! I did a few runs and treadmill hikes with a sauna suit, but as mentioned priority #1 was making sure all my runs benefited my aerobic engine, so this was kept to a minimum. My heat acclimation mainly came from sitting in a hot bath after my runs, and later on I put a tarp over my bathtub and used a steam generator to pipe in steam. I started this routine about 6 weeks out and made sure I did a minimum of 20 minutes 4 or 5 times a week. This was my wife’s least favorite part, because she got sick of having to deal with my sweaty bathroom set-up. I would like to think this benefited my during the race, but the weather in Georgia was mid to high 70’s with high humidity, and to a Floridian this is considered ideal conditions for this time of year. I only found myself sweating heavily on a few occasions, and even then my morning runs in Florida made me produce more sweat than the worst parts of Cruel Jewel.
Side note, According to Koop, heat acclimation is mainly about conditioning your body to reduce the amount of salt and minerals it excretes during high temperatures, not necessarily to sweat less. I was drinking tailwind and eating salty foods, but I only used salt tabs once in the beginning of the race, and even then that was just a precaution. As the race went on and I didn’t cramp, I stopped even thinking about salt tabs. There’s a very good chance heat acclimation made a difference, but more trial and error is needed on my part.
As for the sum of all my training blocks, I’ll admit I found myself wildly under-prepared. While late March and April were spent focusing on the Cruel Jewel, I should have spent more time in January, February, and early March preparing. Honestly, if I had not DNF’d Swamp 100k I may not have taken the remainder of my training blocks as seriously, and CJ100 could have been a disaster.
My longest run leading up to CJ100 was my 50k DNF, and after that I had one training run that was a little over 20 miles. I averaged 50-60 miles a week for heavy training weeks. My average training week per month has some skewed stats, coming in around 40 miles per week. This is due to my two young children constantly bringing home germs from daycare. I’d have two awesome weeks, followed by a down week, followed by a recovery week. This may have benefited me in that it prevented any over-training (a problem I had last year), but that could just be me looking for the silver lining of being sick so often.
I also ran with my vest as much as I could, and being a Salomon vest it didn’t take long to become comfortable. I always ran with a full 1.5 liter bladder in the back to emulate carrying a full pack, and come race day I was pleasantly surprised to see my vest weight was slightly lower than during training. Trekking poles didn’t get as much use. I went into CJ100 a trekking pole novice, but after some time I found a grove and believe I improved my abilities greatly during the race. I mostly ran on roads, but have run many miles in my Lone Peaks so lacing them up race day felt natural. I’m going to admit I bought a new pair for the race, and the ones I wore only had 4 miles of wear as I toed the starting line. Luckily I find Altra’s do not need much breaking in time, and my feet were in great condition after the race.
Main Gear
Vest: Salomon ADV5
Main Attire:
· Darn Tough socks
· Patagonia Capaline Cool Trail Shirt
· Path Projects shorts
· Sundays Trail Hat
Trekking Pole: Black Diamond Z-Poles, Aluminum
Belt: UltraSpire
Headlamp: Black Diamond Storm
Shoes: Altra Lone Peak 5
Race Plan
My plan was simple, start slow, stay hydrated, and keep moving. I had a self-made laminated notecard with splits and nutrition notes, which saw great use at aid stations when I was planning the next section. I pride myself in my ability to overcome adversity in a race, but many time this adversity comes as a direct result of not following my plan, or having a plan that is sub-optimal. I did hours of research for this race, watching every YouTube video and studying the material on the Dumbass website which included course description, course map, and elevation profiles.
Starting slow was also a given, because I had so little experience running on this kind of vertical gain/loss and on this level of technical trails. If I got to the halfway point, I’d step it up, and if I was hurting I’d keep the slow pace. While I have minor experience in this terrain, I know my body very well, so I was going to ignore heartrate completely and pace myself on perceived exertion. Spoiler alert, my pacing was close to perfect, as per my plan, though I think I could have pushed the pace a little higher on the first half. There was also a few miles during the second half that I think I may have (or maybe not) pushed too hard on, but I’ll detail that later on. Still, in terms of sticking to the plan, almost a perfect execution.
Staying hydrated was probably my main focus, I think even above pacing. I had DNF’d Swamp 100k 2 months prior, and the main reason was being dehydrated and not following my race plan. I didn’t want to feel my body shutting down like that again. Cramping, dizziness, and fatigue were all to be avoided, and any sign of these symptoms would be treated immediately. Spoiler alert, I attribute my lack of needing to use salt tabs during the race to my religious determination to making sure my water and electrolyte flasks were drained before each AS, and aside from some lightheadedness during the second day (mostly due to just heat and not dehydration) I executed this part of the plan perfectly.
Keep it moving! Like many runners, I had previously lost a significant amount of time stopped at aid stations, so my plan for this race was to spend as little time as possible at them. If I took off too quickly from an AS, I could always stop and rest alongside the trail, sipping from my flasks and munching on my to-go baggie of snacks. Spoiler alert, I think I maintained this aspect of the plan almost perfectly as well. I did needed to stop shortly after leaving some of the AS for an extra minute or two, but this was only on rare occasion and was all according to plan.
Goals
A Goal: < 36 hours
B Goal: < 38 Hours
C Goal: < 40 hours
I was going to have my C goal be to “just finish”, but I came up with these goals by using previous results from Ultrasignup. I viewed many runners from the previous years, looked at other races they participated in, and I was very confident I could get a sub 40 hour finish given my findings. I then took last year’s results, copied the splits of all runners between 36 and 40 hours, and average them out for each aid station. This gave me an idea of what nutrition/hydration to carry, due to certain sections being more difficult and thus longer to complete than some of the others. The averaged finishing time of these splits was 38 hours and 30 minutes, which I liked because I wouldn’t be stressed out if I was slightly behind my splits, and if I was ahead then I would feel motivated to continue to shave off time.
Again, I copied these splits to a notecard, laminated it, and used it extensively during the race to check my splits and verify distance/projected time between AS. They actually do hand out a notecard with some of this information in the race packet, but mine was a bit larger and of course personalized.
Crewed or (S)crewed?
I made the call to do this race uncrewed, or (s)crewed. I could have called upon my Runfluent team, and I’m sure I could have put a crew together, but the logistics of travel and lodging was stressful to me, so I decided to see if I could take on this challenge alone. I’m also driven by a sense of self-independence, so and I wanted to see if I could take on something this challenging and keep my wits about me. If I was going to do this race again, I’d absolutely do it crewed and have a pacer, but I’m incredibly proud of myself for achieving the results I did with little external aid from a dedicated team.
I used drop bags, and honestly I could have gotten away without them. I had spare nutrition, gear, and clothes, and aside from a few items detailed later most of the items just took up space. It was a good peace of mind knowing I had a stache of items in the event of an emergency, but other than that I could have carried all the items needed with little added weight. This is good knowledge going into the future for self-supported races, but let’s focus on one adventure at a time.
Format
I broke the race up with the sections being by aid station. This is extremely verbose and I envision this being a race report and sort-of-course description combined. When I was looking for information on CJ100 I found previous race reports very helpful and want to provide anyone else with as much information as possible.
The sections will be named in the format:
[Aid Station Current] to [Aid Station Destination] – [Split Distance]/[Total Distance]
​
I’ll be doing my best to describe the course and my experience, but note that perspective may be skewed by exhaustion and the human memory (especially mine) is not perfect.
Vogel (Pre-Race) - 0/0
I arrived at Vogel around 10:45 am, giving me plenty of time to find parking, grab my race packet, and do a last minute gear check. I was familiar with the park because I had arrived the day before and done a shake-out run/hike, but while the parking lot was empty the day before, it had come to life Friday morning, and park personnel were scrambling to find spots for the influx of racers. I located the packet pickup, dropped off my drop bags, and geared up for the race. Vest on, trekking poles extended, and bib attached, I began my way toward the starting line in god spirits, hoping to make some small talk before the race began. This was quite odd, because I’m pretty focused before races and keep the conversation to a minimum, but it must have been the mountain air or disbelief that I was actually running CJ100 that lead to my high spirits.
As I made my way down the stretch of pavement that ended at the starting line, I couldn’t help but notice the amount at CJ100 buckles being worn by volunteers and crew, and my head was filled with thoughts and images of what it would be like to wear my belt after I was finished with the race, if I could make it all 106+ miles. There was even one guy with an H9 Dragon “Buckle”, which looked like a giant piece of scrap metal hanging from his med-section. It was the only buckle I saw the entire weekend that dwarfed the CJ100 buckle, and as ridiculous as it looked I couldn’t help but think “maybe if the cruel jewel goes well…”. Dismissing thoughts of post-race buckles and beers, I began focusing on what the first section of the course would be like, and attempted to stick to my plan of thinking about one aid station at a time.
I decided to spend the final 20 minutes before race pacing by the starting line, and I’m happy I did because I met up with some Orlando runners I had met at previous events in Florida, the O-Town Blazers. After I told them I had no crew or pacers, they volunteered to crew for me whenever I was at the same aid station as their runner. Unfortunately that only coincided with one AS, but the generosity and support was amazing and I will not forget their kindness. This attitude is why I fell in love with the Florida ultra-running scene, because it really feels like a tight knit community.
Right before the start, one of the RDs gave some final words of encouragement, and seemingly out of nowhere the horn blew and the race began. I was so shocked that I was REALLY running the CJ100 that I forgot to start my watch until about 3 minutes into the race when I stopped to check that my pace wasn’t too high, but didn’t let the few tenths of a mile “thrown away” discourage me! And just like that, the beginning of my multi-day adventure began.
Vogel to Wolf Creek – 3.7/3.7 Miles
The race began on a half mile stretch of pavement, which slowly ascended up past campsites and finally to the trailhead. There was much banter and jokes on this first stretch, and though the mood was bright there were undertones of anxiety and over the journey ahead. I decided to stick in the lower mid pack, which proved to be wise because everyone around me was in the “slow but steady” mentality. As soon as the trail began to increase in gradient we slowed to a power-hike, and while I felt like I could push the pace I welcomed the congestion of runners that forced me to slow down. I had read that you don’t want to be stuck in the slog at the beginning of the race, because most mid-pack participants clog up the trail and make the first accent slow, but this is exactly where I wanted to be and was fine enjoying the nice slow pace so early in the race.
This section was about 400 ft of gain and loss, and before I knew it I arrived at the first aid station, which was just a water drop. I was honestly a bit shocked, because I knew the first section wasn’t going to be overly difficult, but I imagined the 400 feet would have felt a little more taxing. My training, slow starting pace, and early race adrenaline made this section very enjoyable. When I approached the water jugs, I downed my flasks, waited in line, and filled my bottles. Goal #1 for this race was to remain hydrated, as I had lost a battle with dehydration at my last race and ended in a DNF. This lost me a good number of positions, but with 102.3 miles to go I wasn’t too concerned about 45 seconds of lost time, and with full flasks I began the first ascent up Coosa Bald, feeling nervous but determined.
Wolf Creek to Fire Pit – 4.7/8.4 Miles
Coosa Bald is the largest climb of the race, with around 2k feet of elevation gain, and was the first test I had for myself of gauging how I’d handle the rest of the race. Overall this section was pretty unremarkable, only because it was a long, slow climb for quite some time. I wasn’t able to enjoy much of this section due to just how focused I was to maintain good breathing, good posture, and not push the pace too hard. The views were mostly of the surrounding trees, so it was easy to zone out and just focus on ascending, one step at a time.
Almost out of nowhere I found myself at the top of Cosa Bald, the trail leveling out and beginning to slowly slop downward. I said out loud to another runner “Was that it?”, I’m sure sounding a little cocky, but it was mostly relief and astonishment in my voice. I had built this 2000 ft climb up so much in my head that I thought it was going to be much worse, and though it wasn’t easy by any means, I was relieved to be on top with legs that still felt fresh. The descent was enjoyable, and I made sure to take it slow and run/shuffle down where I could, but also hold back as to not shred my quads. I was almost as cautious about the downhills because I had a previous race where I learned the hard way that you can wear yourself out just as much, if not more, by bombing down declines.
I approached Fire Pit aid station with relief over finishing Coosa, but also apprehension of taking on Duncan Ridge (DR). I had heard horror stories about DR, and how it can take your soul. Claimed to be the toughest section of the course, I decided to maintain my plan of taking it slow and respecting the course which proved to be wise.
Fire Pit to Fish Gap – 7.3/15.7 Miles
The first manned AS, Fish Gap, I was finally here and ready for some real food. I was beginning to feel a little fatigue in my legs, but wasn’t surprised that my weekly elevation gain in Florida was around 500 feet on a good week. At this first AS, I stuck to my “The Routine”. The routine is as follows:
1. Drink whatever was in both my flasks, which was always tailwind in one, water in the other.
2. Drink at least 2 cups of soda, coke first and then more coke or ginger ale.
3. Eat at least 3 mouthfuls of real food (non-gel based).
4. Pack some food to go in a Ziploc bag to eat between AS
5. Refill flasks, one tailwind and one water. If it’s a longer or more difficult section, fill third backup flask with water or tailwind, whatever I was craving.
After 2 cups of coke, pickles, Oreos, and watermelon, I stuffed some cookies in a Ziploc bag for later and took off on the Dragon Spine.
Wow, just stopping for a few minutes and eating at the aid station was game changing. I felt as fresh as I did at the start, and this feeling lasted well into this tough 7.3 mile stretch. I don’t know if was the sugar and caffeine from the coke, or just taking a minute to stop moving and shake my legs out, but it’s still so vivid to me a week after the race how much more alive I felt. I wasn’t depleted by any means, but felt like my tank was being topped off.
Side note: I was proud myself for not consuming any caffeine until 11pm the first night, where I began sipping on 5 Hour Energy shots. It wasn’t until the second day that I remembered coke and my gels had caffeine, and that I’d been getting little pick-me-ups at each AS. Oh well, guess I’m just a caffeine junky.
Like the ascent of Coosa, my cautiousness of Duncan ridge made me take it slow and easy, where I vowed only to run the less steep gradients and power hike all else. This led to a tough yet pleasant trek, and I was able to enjoy the beauty and difficulty of the section. What makes Duncan so tough is not only the quickly changing ascents and descents, but the technicality of the trail. Narrow trails with rocks and roots everywhere ensure runners like myself need to take it slow, or else risking fatigue or injury. I tried to not think about how tough the return journey would be, but each stretch of this section was starting to cause my concern for my future self. I lost a lot of time on this section, and began falling behind my splits for a 38 hour finish. This was only a minor concern for me, because I knew that pushing the pace this early would lead to injury or bonking.
Soon enough the Fish Gap aid station was in sight, which was a relief because I had just finished my two main flasks plus my backup flask, bought and packed mainly for this section. With recent memory of how much the last AS revitalized me, I quickly made my way down to the tents in hopes of capturing that feeling again.
Fish Gap to Skeenah Gap – 4.9/20.6 Miles
Fish gap was much of the same, following The Routine. Drain/refill flasks, coke and ginger ale, and a combination of snacks that would make any non-runner gag. More pickles & pickle juice, cookies, chips, and brownies, my 3 year old daughter would be jealous, but I just wanted calories. Again I was off after 3-5 minutes, and again the feeling of freshness returned. I could really get used to this, but I’ve done enough ultras to know to enjoy the moment, because it’s no guarantee the entire race would be this way.
Side note: As mentioned, another part of my plan was to blow through AS as soon as my needs were met, because I had lost a significant amount of time at previous races to overstaying my welcome and enjoying the company. I wasn’t required to do this the first half of the race, but the second half had a few of these pit stops!
The final 5 or so miles of the Duncan ridge were less hostile than the previous 7. I was able to enjoy the ridge, though it was still very tough compared to the first section of the course prior to Coosa Bald. I did a bit more running, both uphill and downhill, but still hiked the majority of the difficult trail. As I neared the next AS, a feeling of excitement and relief welled up. I was almost over the Dragon’s spine, which was one of the toughest sections of the course. Soon I could fall into a nice groove, and make up some time on the less technical sections.
Skeenah Gap to Wilscot Gap – 4.9/25.5 Miles
Skeenah Gap AS, rinse and repeat, follow The Routine. Flasks, soda, food, get your ass moving. The O-Town Blazers found me, and I was helped with flask refill, some snacks, and a chair to sit in. I asked where Steve was, and they said he was about 45 minutes behind, but making is way. I then did something I try not to do during races, which was get my hopes up, and luckily this time it didn’t backfire on me. I was excited about the next sections of course, because it was the first after DR and I had read it got easier.
This may have been my favorite section of the day just due to being able to run, and also because I knew I was almost a quarter of the way done and approaching the first drop bag location. The trail was less technical, and the gradients much more manageable. I used my trekking poles to “gallop” up some of the ascents, planting them in stride every 3 steps. I can’t really describe the motion, I just copied what I saw from a YouTube video and it seemed to take a small portion of effort away from running uphill. Downhills were taken a bit faster, removing my wrists from the straps of the poles and holding them in hand as I picked up the pace down the trail.
The increased effort made me thirsty, and just as I drained the last sip from my flask Wilscot Gap AS came into view.
Wilscot Gap to Old Dial Road – 5.5/31 Miles
Drop bag time, I was excited to refill my supplies…which I actually didn’t have to do much of.
Socks…dry and fine, let’s save some time and not change those.
Gels…only had 1 or 2 of those, just going to grab replacements and leave the remaining 12 I packed in the bag.
New buff, spare trekking pole in case of a failure, more Tylenol, spare cough drops and gin-gin chews….nope, don’t need these, pack them back up and be impressed at my ability to over pack…or maybe I’m over-performing? No, over packing for sure.
Just grabbed my spare headlamp and some vitamins and I was good to go. I felt kind of silly leaving behind my gigantic drop bag of unused supplies, but I guess it can never be said that I underprepare.
Repeated The Routine at this AS, you know the drill. Only difference was I sat for a minute with my pack off to cool down while I ate my quesadilla and drank my soda. Once I secured my vest and had poles in hand it was off to the trail. I was in a hurry because I was making good time and still had some sunlight left to run to.
This section was much of the same lower difficulty trail, and I welcomed it. Much like the last section, I maintained a good pace and did a good amount of running. I felt like the sun was taking longer than usual to set, and I couldn’t believe how much daylight was still peeking through the trees. I think because it was during twilight and I was trying to haul some ass before night, as if I wasn’t going to run through the night anyway.
Eventually Old dial road AS came into view, and just like that I was done with the first 50k of the Cruel Jewel.
Old Dial Road to Stanley Creek – 5.9/36.9 Miles
I read somewhere that the 50k mark was where many runners started dropping out of the race. Ironically, when I got to the AS, I overhead a young woman telling one of the volunteers her race was over. She sounded fresh and alert, but she mentioned that her heartrate was erratic all day and that she didn’t feel safe to continue. Personally, I think the drop-out rate at this section is both mental and physical. Physically you just completed a 50k, a respectable distance. But you’re not even a third of the way done with the race. And guess what? Its night time, and this will most likely be the 1st of 2 nights you’re on the trail. You’ve got at least 24 more hours to go, probably more. How bad do you want it? For me, I wanted it bad, so I followed The Routine and got the hell out of dodge.
Without sounding cocky, this was the point where I knew I was going to finish the race. I still wanted to remain cautious, because a twisted ankle, stomach issues, or any other single or combination of factors could derail a race, but my legs felt good, The Routine was working, and my attitude was as positive as when I had lined up for the start of the race. 1/3 of the way complete can be deceptive. If you’re tired and sore, 2/3 seems like a lot of distance to cover. If you’re in good spirits and have no major injuries, 2/3 seems like it’s just 1/3 two more times! Does that make sense? Well, to someone that’s been running 12 hours through the mountains it made plenty of sense, so I set of to conquer the final 66% of the Cruel Jewel.
This section turned out to not be a trail, but a 4 mile section of pavement that I thought was only supposed to be half a mile. Looks like I didn’t read enough about some of these mid-sections! Aside from the rock plates in my Lone Peaks beating up my feet, this section wasn’t incredible difficult and allowed my legs to have a break from the uneven terrain. I was kind of excited about the return trip on this section, because I figured I could make up a god amount of time running downhill on the asphalt if I felt good, or just take it easy again if I was hurting. Not to add in spoilers, but there’s no such thing as “feeling good” the second half of the Cruel Jewel.
I was anxious on this section, because while it was late, there were a few cars speeding down the road. A runner in front of me actually jumped out of the way of a car that was close to the shoulder. I started preemptively walking on the wide grass shoulder whenever I saw headlights, and soon enough the paved road finally turned to dirt, and the ascent leveled out significantly.
Side note: I caught up with a runner and we began chatting, and it turned out to be another Florida runner, Mike Shep from Venice, Florida. Funny thing about Mike, he actually finished about 2 minutes ahead of me at the Pinellas Trail Challenge last year, and I remember him passing me at mile 36 and trying to chase him for the final 10! I’m very happy we met at this point in the race, because we shared some good miles and conversation through a few more AS and right up to Camp Morganton.
This dirt road section wasn’t too difficult, and I could immediately feel a small amount of relief from the softer surface. At the end of the dirt road, we turned on the trail and found ourselves at Stanley Creek Aid Station
Stanley Creek to Deep Gap – 4.8/41.7 Miles
Stanley Creek was memorable on for the long steady ascent and descent. In recollection this is the section that linked that terrible lollipop loop with the long-ass road section. I hate to remember such a nice section of trail this way, but sometimes a walk in the woods is just a walk in the woods. It was however a nice break on the legs after the paved section, and really had no technical sections that are stick out in my mind. Mike and I shared more miles here, and we discussed upcoming races and other Florida ultra-runners. I’m sure I rambled on and on here, but it was good to share these nighttime miles with someone and it really helped pass the time. Perhaps the distraction caused by the conversations was another reason not much of this section sticks out, but soon we found our way into a portion of the course I wish I could forget, Deep Gap Loop.
Deep Gap Loop – 5.8/47.5 Miles
I don’t know if this loop was miserable due to the trail, or due to the fact that it was a loop and felt like I was in a hamster wheel. All the trail up to this point was new and exciting, and the prospect of finding myself back at Deep Gap at the end of the 6 miles was demoralizing. After some retrospect, it is arguably a very nice section of trail, with some stream crossings and a few minor technical sections. If this was a straight section it may have actually been fun, but I hit this twice at night so it was more of a slog in the aspects of this race.
Nevertheless, The Routine demanded to be followed, and I set off on the loop. Again, not a bad section in itself. Not overly technical, some dribbling stream crossings, and a small bridge with a few bib punches dangling by twine. After punching my bib for the first of what was to be two times, I made my way back to deep gap for the usual; flasks, coke, food, and a 5 minute break.
Deep Gap to Camp Morganton – 2.7/50.2 Miles
After a short tenth of a mile out of Deep Gap, I came to a paved road with such a steep incline I thought I was hallucinating. I’m sure it wasn’t that insane, but I’d wager at least 20 to 25% gradient at least. This section was only about another tenth of a mile, and at the crest I saw the road sloped slowly downward. There was some running done on this stretch of road, and overall it my mood was high because I had met my goal of arriving at Camp Morganton before 4am, and found myself starting to creep ahead of my splits. About 2 miles of asphalt later I found myself turning onto the dirt road that lead to Camp Morgantown, or the “Almost Halfway Point”.
Camp Morganton to Deep Gap (Round 2) 2.7/52.9 Miles
Camp Morganton was dangerous. A large brightly lit room with plenty of tables, food, and company. There were bathrooms and bunk beds, and I saw a runner taking a nap as I went to use the facilities. Seeing this runner, shoes off, passed out on a cot made me cancel my plans of a 15 minute break where I was planning on a self-foot massage and extra time to digest some food. I quickly rummaged through my drop bag (also way over-packed like the Wildcat one), grabbed what I needed, dumped what I didn’t and headed back out. Under 10 minutes spent at Camp Morganton, and I believe I avoided the trap of comfort.
The gentle downward slope into camp Morganton was mirrored, and a gentle rising slope was the way out. I made decent progress on this section, jogging some and power walking the rest. I was making such good time and was proud of the little time I spent at Camp Morganton that I wasn’t in a rush and decided to save some energy for the trails. The asphalt was also just as rough on my feet as earlier, so the slower pace saved my feet from getting too beat up. As I approached the descent that would lead to Deep Gap, I lent some encouraging words to some of the other runners about how short of a climb it would be, and it was all downhill to CM from there.
After a sharp turn back onto the trail, a short section of trail lead me back to Deep Gap, and the dreaded loop #2.
Deep Gap to Deep Gap (Loop #2) 5.8/58.7 Miles
Really not much to say about Loop #2, except that it sucked for the same reasons as the first time. My pace was a bit slower as my legs began feeling the miles. My goal was to finish deep gap loop #2 before daybreak, and try and make as much time back as possible before the sun came up. Visions of sub-36 were swimming in my head, so any miles I could cover before the next day’s heat would be a bonus. As I punched my bib and made my way to the exit, I decided this loop was the cruelest part of the cruel jewel so far. Spoiler alert, this was NOT the cruelest part of the cruel jewel, it doesn’t even make top 3.
Deep Gap to Weaver Creek Road 5/63.7 Miles
I was finally done with the loops, and feeling great. The sun was beginning to rise, and my pacing was on point for at least a 38 hour finish. I was tired, and had some soreness in my quads and calves, but otherwise I was ready to tear apart some trail. This feeling lasted a few miles down the trail, right until I hit the turnoff for Weaver Creek Road, otherwise known as the “pointless 6 mile out and back”. I can’t stress enough how good I felt right up until this point. It was dawn of a new days, and I was performing exactly according to plan. Everything was going well, and I was even having some fun.
Here's where I screwed up, sort of. I did not do any research on this section, and made the assumption it was just like any of the trail that was in that general area. I had mostly heard about the sadistic cruelty of DR and Coosa, so assumed the rest of the course was the usual type of cruel. Oh boy, this made Duncan Ridge look like a country dirt road. The descent was smooth at first, very runnable. It was non-technical and a little steep, and I figure it’d be tough but fun on the way back. Then more descent. And more rock. And twists, turns, and drops. What is going on? What were they thinking? I can barely climb down this, my quads are getting shredded. I’m putting so much weight on my trekking poles that the straps are digging into my wrists. The only thing worse than climbing down was the thought of making my way back up, but I couldn’t fully picture this due to the almost audible screaming my quads were bellowing out.
I approached Weaver Creek with frustration and anger. I greeted the AS volunteers friendly though, because it wasn’t their fault this was so Cruel. I joked about how tough this section was, and they told a story about Canyon Woodard from the previous year and how he pranced through the woods to this AS like a deer, blew them kisses, then headed right back out. Later, when one of the volunteers drove to the finish, they found Canyon had just finished, and was swimming in the lake. That story lifted my spirits, and I vowed to try and have at least half as much fun as it appeared Canyon had. I said my thanks, waved my goodbyes, skipped blowing kisses, and started back where I dragged myself in from.
Weaver Creek Road to Stanley Gap 5.4/69.1 Miles
My vow to have fun lasted about 5 minutes, maybe. Immediately the trail became hostile, and the ascents were taking my breath away. The passing runners into Weaver weren’t as friendly as I was it seemed, and I don’t think anyone made space for me to pass, expecting me to stop and move aside. I honestly couldn’t blame them, because if they were in as bad a mood as I was I was lucky I wasn’t getting shoved down the side of the trail., or doing some shoving myself.
I had to stop more than once to take a break. Way more than once. I’d find a spot that was on the side of the hill, then try my best to not obstruct the trail from other runners. I stretched my legs, rubbed my quads, ankles, and tried to dig into my arches through my shoes, then would head off again, cursing the world for creating such obstacles and dreaming of seeing the sign that meant I would be done with this section and back on the way to Stanley gap.
Finally, beaten, swollen, and sweaty, the sign that directed us to Stanley Gap appeared, and my spirits instantly lifted. The runner ahead of my screamed ”F*** Yes!” and I knew that at least I wasn’t alone in my struggles. The remaining 2 miles to Stanley were enjoyable with some runnable sections, but I took it slow in order to recover from the 3 mile trek out of weaver. Soon we came to Stanley Gap.
Stanley Gap to Old Dial road 5.9/75 Miles
What was The Routine again? Flasks, one water one tailwind. Soda, 3 cups this time, 2 coke and one ginger ale. Food, and lots of it, cookies, Nutella sandwiches, chips, watermelon, pickles and shots of pickle juice. Honestly at this point in the race taste and memory blurs, and a whirlwind of sweet, salty, bitter, and savory sensations overwhelmed me. I knew I took a while on the last section, and wanted to re-fuel. I checked my splits and found I had not lost any time, as the data I pulled had accounted for that tough section. After 5 minutes of sitting and eating, I was ready for that road section were I planned to make up some time on, so I set off with some renewed vigor.
Unfortunately, I was still feeling the brutality of weaver creek. Though it was behind me, the gift of sore quads was still lingering. I decided to again use the road section as a break, and walked a good deal of it. There was a little stream of clear cold water in front of one of the beautiful houses on the road, and I stopped to wet my hat and buff. Wow, there it was, the thing that was missing. I did not realize how hot it had gotten, and this bit of cool water on my head and down my back was incredible.
Side note: One of my favorite things about ultras are the little slices of heaven you find during the race, and cold water on hot skin hours into a race is one of my favorite sensations.
I picked up the pace a bit, walking and power hiking down the road with the motivation to fill up my bandana with ice at the next AS, and reap the benefits of cooling off a little. As the stores came into view, I saw patrons eating and drinking, having a good time. I really wanted to stop and have a sack in the air conditioning, but like Camp Morganton, I knew that giving into the temptation of comfort was not in my best interest, so I pressed on. In the light of day I could see the river crossing had tubing, and the water was crystal clear and not too deep. Taking a dip in the creek was so tempting, but again I knew I had to keep moving and not get distracted.
Side note: In hindsight, a quick dip in the river probably would have done me some good, lowering my body temperature and soothing my sore muscles. Maybe next time I find myself at an oasis like this I’ll stop and enjoy myself for a moment.
I found myself walking with another runner and his pacer, making good conversations. We actually passed the trail turn off by 1/10 of a mile, but it honestly felt like at least half a mile at the time until I checked my watch and confirmed it wasn’t too far of an overshoot. It could have been way worse, and I didn’t let the extra few steps discourage me. After a brief section of trail we were finally at Old Dial Road, and I knew my routine.
Old Dial road to Wilscot Gap 5.5/80.5 Miles
The only difference in The Routine was grabbing my bandana with built in ice pocket, filling it with ice, and re-soaking my hat and buff in water. I tied my bandana to my neck and tucked the ice under my race vest, making it sit snuggly on the back of my neck and down my back. Heaven. I wish I could bottle up this feeling and sell it, because nothing compares. Taking off from this AS I caught another wind, relaxed from the easy road section. I was excited to hit the runnable trails and hit some good splits before the inevitable Duncan Ridge, which was about 16 miles away.
Later in the race I realized the exhaustion and heat had gotten to me, because mentally I was really spacing out at this point. I kept a level head and was laser focused on the race, but any hotter or any longer in the sun could have been trouble. What I mean by this was, I was absolutely hauling ass on the trails, with almost zero regard for the final 20 miles of the race. I knew the final 20 would be the toughest, but in my mind I was seeing a sub-36 hour finish, and the easier trails during this section were calling me to run hard and shave some time from my already good splits. I was running uphills, bombing the downhills, and hoping from rock to rock. I was running like I had a cutoff to make, and was feeling really good. It wouldn’t be until the start of Duncan Ridge where it would start cooling off that I realized my mistakes, but for right now I didn’t care.
Side note: In retrospect, I don’t know if slowing down and saving energy for Duncan Ridge would have led to a better outcome. I made some really good time on this and the next section, and I may have been just as slow on Duncan regardless. It definitely worked out, but I was playing a very dangerous game at this point in the race, gambling with bonking from the heat and exhaustion, or tripping over a rock and ending my race early.
After a quick 5.5 miles I found myself approaching Wilscot gap with a smile on my face. If you remember, Wilscot gap has the drop bags, and I still had gear from overnight I didn’t need. I was ready to dump the gear I didn’t need and lighten my pack, and I’m not sure if it was from the gear or melted ice, but my pack felt extremely heavy as compared to earlier in the race.
Wilscot Gap to Skeenah Gap 4.9/85.4 Miles
Pulling in Wilscot I felt good. Not only did I follow The Routine, but I got to drop my unneeded gear. I also had 5 more miles of runnable trail before Duncan, and my fuzzy heat induced brain was telling me to haul ass and keep making good time. It was also still daylight, and I set a goal to make it through most of Duncan before the sun went down. I dumped some of the GUs and other packed food I was carrying, keeping a few on my in case I found myself hitting a wall between AS. I also dumped my spare headlamp, rain jacket, and spare socks. I repacked my vest with items I knew I’d need in reachable spots, and with no extra delays I ran out onto the trail ready to keep making good splits.
Side note: Something to mention at this point in the race is that EVERYONE is cheering now. Volunteers, other crew, they know how beat up the runners are, and they are coming fewer and far between each AS. I don’t usually like getting cheered on too much and told I’m “looking great” during the final stages of an ultra, because I know I am NOT looking great and they are lying, but these words of encouragement during the last 30 or so miles of CJ100 were welcomed and felt awesome to hear.
Much like the last section, I began tearing this trail up. At about the halfway point to the next AS, I started to come to my senses a bit, started feeling some really bad aches in my quads again, and began looking at my split goals more closely. Though I was beating my splits, it was only by 5 or 10 minutes. What. I feel like I’m hauling some serious ass, and I’m barely improving on the expected times? I began to realize that all the energy I was exerting was saving me minutes, not hours. I looked at my splits for Duncan and Coosa and realized that I had the potential to make up way more time on those sections with a slight increase of energy output. I had 3.5 hours for the 7 mile section of Duncan, and 3 hours for the up and over of Coosa Bald. Those seemed like generous splits, so I decided to take the last bit of this section slower, and save up some energy for Duncan.
Skeenah Gap to Fish Gap 4.9/90.3 Miles
Here it is, the last AS before Duncan Ridge. I checked my splits, an hour ahead of my 38:30 goal. Oh man, this is going to tough. Worst case scenario, I lose some time and come in under 40 hours. That’s not a bad worst case scenario, so I followed The Routine, filled up and extra flask with water, and made my way out of the AS and closer to the start of the dreaded return trip over the Dragons Spine. It was still pretty hot out, and I knew that with the beating my legs took on the last few sections that there was chance I could stall out on the ridge and need some extra time and water, but so far having respect for the Spine showed me good fortune, so I approached it with determination and apprehension.
This section was…not as bad as I remembered. I took it slow and steady, and found that the ascents and descents weren’t killing me. Don’t get me wrong, I was in a good amount of pain at this point, and the downhills were just short of agony, but I thought I’d have to take more breaks and give myself more mental pep-talks. That would come later….but for now I was relieved that I was making progress, and I even had some daylight to burn. It was looking like my respect for the Dragons Spine was again being rewarded, but I later realized it was just it’s way of lulling my into a false sense of security, and was set to remind me again why this race was called the Cruel Jewel.
After what seemed like hours (because it was hours!) I hobbled into Fish Gap, beaten, bruised, but a few miles closer to buckles and brewskis.
Fish Gap to Fire Pit 7.3/97.6 Miles
You guessed it, The Routine. I spoke to some runners and volunteers, but otherwise kept my time short and took off with motivation. Yelling my thanks and getting words of encouragement thrown back at me, I set off on the 7.3 mile stretch that would bring me into the homestretch.
The cruel jewel is very cruel. It lifts your spirits, then drops you on your ass. Heading out on this section of Duncan, I was reminded of the gut-punch that was Weaver Creek road, the pointless, terrible out and back. THIS was the DR that I had been fearing for the entire race. Technical trails, jagged rocks, steep mountainside trails that had considerable drop offs. Not a straight drop off, but a steep one that if it didn’t kill me would at minimum end my race. As the sun finally set, I imagined tumbling down the side, and what my headlamp would look like spinning as it was attached to my head. I also wondered if anyone would be able to see my headlamp when I finally stopped rolling at the bottom, or if the brush would cover it up and I’d be found during morning. I’m really not joking here, I was pretty worried given my shaky legs and exhausted mental state. I actually leaned toward the hillside, mimicking an “ultra-lean” in the event I lost my footing.
This section was a contender for the cruelest section, given the difficulty, length between aid, and reduced nighttime visibility combined with exhaustion. I had to stop a few times and rest, rubbing my tired quads and calves. Up until this point, when I needed to stretch I’d find myself squatting down, stretching out my quads and flexing my ankles. However, during this section, I lost the ability to squat down, so I started grabbing trees and leaning back to stretch out my hamstrings and stretch my calves. I welcomed any temporary relief, and after a long 3 hours I made my way into a clearing that would mark the final manned aid station and final challenge of completing the race.
Fire Pit to Wolf Creek 4.7/102.3 Miles
Hobbling into Fire Pit, I silently grabbed a chair, moved it in front of the fire, and sat down. The Routine, my subconscious demanded, so I begrudgingly got up, performed The Routine, got some soda and food, and returned to my fireside seat. After spending a few extra minutes trying to force thoughts of what a DNF at mile 98 of a 106 mile race would feel like, I snapped out of it and took a look at my splits. I began accepting that a sub 36 hour finish would be almost out of reach. I could do it, maybe, but I’d have to really kick Coosa Bald’s ass and currently my ass was the only one being kicked. I was happy that DR was complete, but knew that the 2k ft climb up Coosa was going to be tough. I set out again to words of encouragement from the volunteers, gave my thanks, and began picturing how I would feel being handed my buckle.
Side note: The prospect of a DNF at this point was never really serious, but thinking about colbeers and a warm bed being only a few miles away really messes with your head. The hardest part was not the distance, but the time. 8 miles in Florida is just a casual stroll to the finish line. 8 miles over Coosa and into Vogel was going to be around 3 or 4 hours. “8 miles to go! 4 hours?! 8 miles to go! 4 hours?!” Kept repeating in my head, crushing my soul as quickly as my spirits were being lifted.
The climb was tough, but I made it my mission to keep moving. I slowed down only when I felt I really couldn’t go on, and I sat, stretched, and got up and moved. I only stopped a handful of times on this final major ascent, and spent 60-90 seconds each stop. Just enough to regain my breath and give a small leg massage, but not enough to get complacent. I played leap frog with another runner and his pacer, and soon got embarrassed of this and decided to not stop moving until I got to the top. The climb kept going and going, I can’t stress how many times I looked up, thought I could make out a clearing, only to realize the night and the terrain were playing tricks and the mountain kept stretching on upward.
Finally I see a sign that says “Any other race you’d be done, but this is the cruel jewel and you have 6 miles to go”. “Holy Shit” I said, “I made it”. I laid on a rock group for about 30 seconds, looking up into the night sky through the trees and staring at the stars. I realized that the hardest part was almost over, just one major descent and then it was a short 3.7 mile section until the finish. I got up, and began making my way down Coosa.
The way down Coosa was a different type of tough. The way up was steep, but with less distance. The way down was not as steep, but felt like it went on forever. Each time the terrain leveled out excitement welled in me at the prospect of finishing the ascent, but each time I looked down the trail ad my headlamp made clear yet another downhill section was approaching. After the sign that stated 6 miles to go, I was fired up and began running sections I knew I shouldn’t. Long story short, I really trashed my quads and had to slow down, taking frequent stops. That group I was leapfrogging caught up with me and passed, and I weakly stated “Guess I got a little over-ambitious, huh?”. They chuckled and moved on, leaving me to feel my way down the rest of Coosa with my trekking poles.
The next cruelty of the night came when the rain began. It started quickly, and soon developed into large droplets. This was fine at first, but soon enough I was freezing cold and the thought of hypothermia began creeping into my mind. I had left my rain jacket at the drop bags in Wilscot, and I was regretting that decision. Still with no doubt of finishing I pushed on, and after only a short while the rain stopped and I warmed up just from moving. While the rain lasted a short time, it was almost funny how the Cruel Jewel can give you one last kick while you’re already hurting.
Where’s the aid station? I said. Where’s the god damn aid station?! I screamed. Where’s the aid station? I cried. Yes, I cried once during the Cruel Jewel. Not manly tears, but childish ones. I felt weak, and I just wanted to finish. 30 seconds of feeling sorry for myself, I snapped out of it and reminded myself that I was almost there.
I finally found the next aid station, which again was just a water stop. Though it was only a water stop, it was also a landmark for my victory lap. I call the final few miles of an ultra my “victory lap” because the race is pretty much over, and the only thing left to do is finish strong with a smile. I’ve completed almost 99% of the hardest race of my life, the least I can do is enjoy the last 1%.
Wolf Creek to Vogel 3.7/106 Miles
Checking my splits, I realize that I have a little over an hour until midnight. An hour and change to complete 3.7 miles. Wait…that means that just under 20 minute miles will secure a sub 36 hour finish? No way…when did I make up such good time? Was it the end of DR? Did I cover Coosa was faster than I thought? No time to over-analyze, time to keep moving and see if I have it in me.
I began running, only 400 ft to the top of this last climb, then a runnable 4 miles down. I ran for about a quarter mile and stopped. “Wow this is hard” I thought. “Nothing wrong with a 36 hour and a few minute finish” the devil on my shoulder whispered. I decided to keep moving steadily, and just see what would happen. This repeated itself the entire 400 ft climb. Run, stop and question, hike, get motivated, and run again. I was exhausted, and I was trying to do math with the little mental function I had left. I kept celebrating what it would feel like to go sub-36, then accepting how finishing a little over 36 hours was still amazing, and still beat al my expectations. I asked myself the same question I ask myself during every race “How bad do you want this?”. And as if an answer to my question, I noticed the terrain leveled off and the trail began to descend.
I looked at my watch and was shocked to see I had a half hour until midnight. 30 minutes to cover roughly 1.5 miles and hit my main goal for the entire race. I flew down the trails, slowing only to make sure I didn’t twist my ankle on any groups of rocks. I passed that leapfrogging group who was now walking and asked if they were trying to still hit a midnight finish. They said yes and I yelled back “Going to be close, but I think we got this!”. I was wrong though, it wasn’t going to be close, it was going to be almost impossible not to finish sub-36. Almost out of nowhere, the half mile pavement stretch that led almost straight downhill to the finish appeared, and whatever part of me that was still tired vanished, I was alert and elated. I caught up with a group of 5 or 6 runners who were also making their way to the finish with an increased pace, and we shared some words of relief and happiness. I told them I wasn’t looking to go for a head-to-head race to the finish, but that I was just running the last bit as fast as my body would allow, and with that I took off with one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever worn. One small turn, then the next, I realized around the next corner would be the finish line. As I rounded the last turn I could see the line of chairs and people standing, cheering the runners onto the finish. As I passed the first group I heard someone say “He looks like he’s moving well”, and I certainly felt like I was moving well. As a side note, I checked my splits after, and saw that I ran the final tenth of a mile in with a pace of 7:06 min/mile, which surprised me because I didn’t believe my legs were even capable of faster than a 10 minute pace for any small distance. I passed the upright finishing goal, and the RD immediately handed me my buckle. It felt so good to have it in my hands, the weight of it a reminder of all I had to go through the last 35 hours, 49 minutes, and 50 seconds.
I told the RD “This was the most amazing race that I never intend of doing again”, and she jokingly said “F*** you! You’ll be back”. And I then said “You know, that custom leather belt does look amazing, I think I at least need to be back for the 56 miler” to which she agreed was a good idea.
Post Race
I hobbled back to my car, setting out to grab my backpack with post-race clothes and other various items I knew I’d need. My plan for post-race was absolutely nothing, I had no time when I’d finish so I didn’t book a hotel, and I figured I’d find a nice spot in the grass to nap or something. First order of business was a shower…but I had no idea where the showers were at Vogel. Google brought me nothing, and I soon discovered I could walk more than a few feet without being in pain. I could always sleep in my car, but I felt so dirty and worn out. I called the hotels in Blairsville, and discovered for a significant upcharge I could book a room that night. $200 and in about 8-9 hours I’d need to check out…screw it, I needed a hot shower and a bed. Driving myself the 15 minutes to Blairsville was almost as mentally draining as running the race. It was dark, I was exhausted, and the winding country highway took all my concentration. Finally I was at the hotel, and before I knew it was laying in the shower, hot water raining down on me as I drank one of my pre-packed victory beers. Sleep didn’t come right away, and instead Facebook posts and checking others runners that were still on the course occupied another hour of my time. Finally I passed out, very sore, yet warm and comfortable.
After having a quick breakfast at the hotel, and spotting some other finishers, I made my way back to Vogel around 10am to cheer on the runners coming in before cut-off and spend some time at the finishing line, which I had cut short only a few hours before in my search for a comfortable bed. I went for a post-race walk around the trails, showing my newly earned buckle a taste of what it took to earn it. I felt surprisingly good only 12 hours after the race, but I would learn that DOMs wouldn’t fully set in until that night, and wow did it hit me! After my short walk, I made it back to my car and set off to visit Helen for some German food and begin my drive home.
Leaving Vogel and Blairsville was hard for me, because I would have loved to spend a few extra days enjoying the area accompanied by the relief of having finished Cruel Jewel. Luckily there are many races in this area, and I can’t wait to return for one and take on the mountains as a 2022 Cruel Jewel 100 finisher.
Final Thoughts
At 5 days post-race, I’m starting to forget about the misery some of this course brought, and would consider running it again. I’m actually very excited to run the 56 mile version, because it is truly a beautiful and well organized race, and I need that matching belt. There are many other races that take place in the Chattahoochee Mountains, so I’m looking forward to trying those out as well. Trail running in the mountains is such a different beast than trail running in Florida, and I’d be surprised if it takes long for me to be back, next time with my family in able to enjoy the time with my wife and children.
I’m still in a state of disbelief that I finished in under 36 hours given my training, but I guess I traded overall volume for and intelligent training schedule. Maybe a bit of luck, maybe I’m starting to gain some experience, but either way I’m going to stick with my coach and training team (I was going to stay with them regardless of outcome) and keep on trying to improve.
I’m going to have to really suppress my urge to be over-confident with upcoming races, because I have to admit finishing the CJ100 has really built up my self-image.