Run.Walk.Eat.Sleep – The Last Annual Vol State Road Race 500K – Race Report

Some adventures transform a man. The sleepless nights, the euphoric feelings, the few silent minutes spent in contemplation, the conscious decision made to suffer through the heat, day and night on the endless road, to recover and regain the strength, to push forward only to sink deeper at the end of the day, the struggle to stay awake and do it over and over, hoping to get to the rock. Run, walk, eat and sleep - this is the story of my journey called The Last Annual Vol State Road Race 500K.

“The Last Annual” part is a joke. The race has been taking place since 1981. There’s no formal organization, no website, no registration fee, nothing. It’s a race for a bunch of people who like to run real long distances. All the way from Dorena Landing, MO to Castle Rock, GA. 314 miles, 500K. As Laz mentioned once, “You would not believe how alone you are on the side of the road. All of those people who pass by a few feet away are in another world. They’re in their little air conditioned metal box, but when you get done, you can remember every step of the road.”

Days before the Vol State

I kept quiet on the Vol State list. Though I got my name listed as solo, unsupported, I didn’t make it official. These days, nothing’s official unless it’s Facebook official. I thought about it several times. I can still pull back my entry; it’s a tough race; I don’t need to go through this; I’ll just show up as a volunteer and crew some of my friends. But finally I had to shake off such odd thoughts, and I made it official on FB. This was the biggest step for me pre-Vol State.

Next big question: what shoes am I going to wear? I have never run in shoes, besides my first two marathons. I have either run in VFF or gone barefoot. I picked up a few good pairs from REI, felt miserable running in them and promptly returned them. I decided to take my VFF (Trek Sports) for a test ride on the Vol State course on a hot day. I ran/walked 22 miles, felt pretty comfortable and decided to stick with them. I also picked up a CamelBak backpack, tightened all the cords and told myself that whatever would fit in it, I would take. I wanted to keep it as minimal as possible, no space for anything that I MIGHT need during the race.

Besides planning for logistics, vacation, travel and other stuff, it was fear and anxiety that took over me. A week before the race, Vol State was all I could think of, all the time. It got so frustrating and made me so restless that I just wanted to get on that damn ferry. I wrote to a couple of runners who had finished Vol State in the past, asking for suggestions and advice. Everyone responded, but four of the replies were so good that I took a printout of them and carried it with me during the race. Here are excerpts from some of the conversations:

I was so pissed off with Laz’s comment, and I told myself that even if I had to drop out, I would make sure not to drop out on Monday.

I was thinking a lot about the movie “The Way Back”, the story of four men escaping from a Siberian Gulag and their 4,000-mile-long trek to freedom. They face freezing nights, lack of food and water, mosquitoes, an endless desert, the Himalayas. At one point, after reaching the great Himalayas, someone asks how they are going to get past the mountains, and the guy replies, “We walk”. That got stuck in my head. We walk. Keep pushing forward. After all, I at least have access to stores and civilization, unlike these men who didn’t have anything. Laz sent another update a few days before picking up the crewless runners from the rock and taking them to the start line.

humidity so high you can cut the air into blocks.
sun so cruel it sears exposed flesh.
they have heat advisories in effect.
people are supposed to minimize their time outside…
tomorrow we go pick up the crewless runners at the rock.
god help them.
if people hadn’t done it before,
i would say it couldn’t be done.

Charity: Water: Joshua mentioned in his blog, after he made his Vol State official, that if an individual attempts to do something that could result in death, then one should raise money for a cause in the process to help the less fortunate. That stuck in my head. I asked him whether I could join hands with him in his campaign, and he gladly accepted. Though I wanted to run this race for myself, I now had another good reason to motivate myself and finish it. Being born and brought up in India, and having lived in a less fortunate place, I remember what a great deal it was to get clean drinking water. I decided to contribute a dollar for every mile. Every mile counts, and every mile would help build a well somewhere that would provide clean drinking water. (Thanks, Joshua, for letting me be part of your campaign.)

Limerick Taxi Service

Two fares named Naresh and Fred
Got in and were so full of dread,
That all the way through
“What’d I get myself into?”
Is what the both of them said. –Troubadour

That was Rich’s poem for us; he goes by the name ‘Troubadour’ on the Ultralist. He offered Fred Davis and me a ride to The Last Supper. Meeting Fred prior to the race was such a blessing. He had finished Vol State several times, and his maps and notes were of such great help during the race. Everything just fell into place. Out of office, backpack, pepper spray, maps: I checked the items one after the other before jumping into the car. When I couldn’t get my hands on an Indian flag, I drew one myself on my race shirt. Rich was at my door. My “This is it” moment. Divorce from the world. I had a little cultural exchange with Rich and Beth during our ride and I had the chance to see their jaws drop when I started talking about “Arranged marriages in India”. We talked about a lot more stuff, but I was not present in the ‘present’. We were driving through a part of the race course, and Rich told me that I would have made it that far by day two, hopefully!!

The night before I left Nashville, I went on Facebook and unfriended my parents, my sister and a couple of friends who might possibly update my parents about my race. I still remember how mad, yet proud, they were when I told them about my first 100-mile finish. This time it’s three times longer, and getting them worried about my adventure was the last thing I wanted. (Mom, Dad, Sis and friends – if you are reading this, I am sorry.)

The Last Supper:
A ritual where all Vol State runners, crew, volunteers, family and friends meet at Ryan’s Steakhouse in Union City, TN the day before the Vol State. I had heard so much about The Last Supper, but finally I was here and things started getting real. I met all the runners and their family members. Ultra legends Dirt, Laz and Marv collectively had over 100 years of ultrarunning experience.

I thought I was the baby in the group, but Erika beat me on that. I had a couple of email conversations with Lynn, Erika’s mom and an awesome runner, but meeting the mother-daughter duo running the Vol State was such a pleasure. Finally, my friend Joshua showed up with his crew. Josh and I had spent several hours in conversation through email and chat prior to the race. Both of us were equally anxious and scared. Soon, we all retired for the night. I couldn’t go to sleep. I met Lynn, Erika and Sherry in their room, and we had a blast talking about our races and other stuff.

For some reason, too much anxiety kept me from going to sleep. It didn’t work out no matter how hard I tried. I might have slept for an hour or two. Morning arrived sooner than I expected. At 5:30AM I packed my bags, filled them up with water and jumped into Shannon’s yellow bus. I took a ride with Diane, my running friend who introduced me to the ultra world, and John Price, who is a legend in his own right. He recently ran across the USA self-supported, and he also ran the Vol State double last year. We stopped at a couple of spots en route to click pictures and headed straight to Dorena Landing, MO, where our ferry was waiting for us.

Ferry ride was just the beginning

Things started becoming more REAL for me. Things that I had read and heard about were happening to me. Last year I signed up for Vol State but had to pull back due to a family emergency. The Last Supper, the Ferry Ride, the Bench of Despair and the Rock were some of the notable things, and two of them had already happened. The ferry took us across the Mississippi River to Dorena Landing, MO.

We got off the ferry, lined up at the start line and, before we knew it, Laz lit his cigarette. The clock started ticking. Race is ON. We ran towards the ferry. I wish I could put it in better words to explain the joy of the moment, but one has to be there to experience it.

The ferry ride back to Kentucky was silent, at least for me. The longest 10 minutes of my life. Fear was creeping up my spine; I withdrew to a corner of the ferry and gazed at the water, contemplating, for the next few minutes. This race is something I never thought I would do. I had a humble beginning in the ultra world, and after 16 months of ultras, here I am running the Vol State 500K. I had all sorts of questions and doubts, but before I knew it the ferry landed on shore. I shook it off and took off with the rest of the runners.

First step into a sea of uncertainty

It was party time after stepping off the ferry. I thought I had lost my phone but was glad to see it sitting on top of the yellow bus. My cell phone was the only way I and others could keep in touch for the next 10 days. I took off with Josh, and we kept an easy pace. We tried to get in as many miles as possible while the day was still kind of cool. The roads looked deserted, as if the whole city had been abandoned due to a zombie apocalypse.

The road wound through Hickman, KY towards Union City, TN. We took the wrong road within the first 3 miles of running, but thank God, John Price hollered and put us back on track. The day was starting to get hot and the field was getting scattered, but Josh and I were still running together. I stepped inside a bank on my way to refill my handheld bottle. Before we knew it, we made it to Union City, about 18 miles into the race.

I made a quick stop at a Subway and had a tuna sandwich and lots of Coke. Josh and I soon caught up with Don Winkley, another ultra legend, and his crew, Donald. Laz and Carl were standing under the bridge at Mile 20. “This is your worst 20-mile time, isn’t it?” I nodded, “Yes indeed”. It took over 5 hours to run 20 miles. I had no goal for day 1, except that I had talked myself into running at least 40 miles every day. I ran a bit with Don Winkley, another ultra legend, who eventually won the race this year. When I was out of water and ice again, I stepped into an outdoor store, and the lady was kind enough to give me some ice and let me use the faucet to refill my backpack. That refill took me all the way to Martin, TN (Mile 29).

I made another quick stop at a McD and drank a large banana smoothie. I checked my feet and noticed that the duct tape had slipped, but it wasn’t all that bad. I refilled my pack again and headed out. Josh resupplied his stock, and we took off. We noticed a church sign that said “The Most Effective Daily Exercise – Walking with God”, the right message at the right time.

It was a long stretch to Dresden and the day was getting hotter. The road almost looked like an interstate, with wide shoulders. Josh’s crew would pass me every now and then. I finally noticed the signboard “Dresden – A great place to live”. I was sitting under a tree for a bit when Josh’s crew hollered at me and asked me not to move: there was a dog charging towards me. I went cold all of a sudden, my first encounter with a dog during Vol State. He barked a bit, circled around me and left. Thank God. It was mile 40 and my feet were killing me. I just wanted to rest somewhere. There was a motel about 3 ¼ of a mile off the course, and at that point I was ready to go that extra mile for some good rest.

I picked up a gallon of chocolate milk and a sub on my way and got to my room. The motel owners, an Indian family from Gujarat, offered me a great discount and one of the best rooms. I felt really proud to have that Indian flag on my shirt. It unites every one of us, no matter where we are. I took a cold shower and tried to rest but couldn’t go to sleep and was just lying on my bed. I iced my feet and kept them elevated; meanwhile I munched on some chips and a sandwich and washed it down with chocolate milk. When I realized that sleep was not my best friend that night, I decided to head back out. It was 12:30am. Before heading out, I spread all the items from my backpack on the bed and decided to dump everything that I hadn’t touched that day, except for the pepper spray. I woke up Josh, and he asked me to get going and said that he would start an hour later. I backtracked from the motel and rejoined the course. It was crisscross from there, and if not for the directions painted on the road, I would surely have been lost. It was funny that the 500K direction was marked right next to a 5K race route. I am sure the 5K runners must have wondered who would run 500K and might even have thought it was a prank.

It was a long night. Old Route 22, which would take me to Gleason, was so dark and lonely. At times I doubted whether I was on track. A cop passed me at around 2am, and when they turned around, I was sure they were going to check on me. They were very friendly. I told them about the race, and they asked me to be careful and went their way. I finally made it to Gleason (Mile 48), and after going through the town, it was Old 22 once again. Before heading out, I checked my feet, and it was a nasty sight. There were blisters everywhere. The skin had started reacting to the adhesive tape. I should have left the duct tape intact before leaving Dresden; instead I thought I’d tape my feet with the J&J adhesive tape. A very costly mistake, and I paid for it heavily. I removed the tape, cleared the blisters, applied some of the advanced blister Band-Aids and put on my Injinji socks. It was pitch dark and the road wound through some cornfields. Soon, Josh’s crew passed me. It was the first sign of traffic in a long time. Blake told me that Josh was about 3 miles behind me. As I kept going, I saw a flashlight coming towards me. After a couple of minutes I noticed that it was Fred Davis. Apparently, he never rested, and he had turned around somewhere and was heading in the wrong direction. Not sure how far he went in the wrong direction, but he turned around, we spoke a bit and I took off. It looks like he made the same mistake last year too, but he is one strong runner who never rests.

Soon, the sun was out, and a couple of very friendly dogs kept me company as I headed into McKenzie. I made a call at 6 in the morning to let Carl know my position. McKenzie, Mile 57. I stopped at a small local country café and had bacon, eggs and biscuits with lots of coffee. The waitress was very nice, and I was soon joined by a couple of local regulars, and it was story time. I really enjoyed sharing my experiences and getting to meet new people on the road. Even as I was packing my bags to leave, I saw Fred stopping for breakfast at the same café. It felt good to have covered 57 miles on Day 1. Except for the blisters, I was feeling really good, and the goal was to get to Huntingdon by noon.

At this pace, you can win the race:
I was on Old 22 once again. It was a long and quite hilly stretch. By now, I could smell roadkill from miles away, and I was getting better at judging what it would be. This section had a huge rattlesnake with its jaws wide open, and it was smelling nasty. Later on I smelled a raccoon, and my guess was right. Soon, I smelled evilness, and there was Laz. Carl and Laz were driving around, and they stopped by. “Hey man, you are doing well, in fact you might even win this race”, Carl hollered.

I spoke with Laz and Carl and told them about Fred. They laughed. Carl told me that Sherry and Sal were in Huntingdon, resting for the day. Josh rested a bit at McKenzie, and when I called him he was about 4 miles behind. I was feeling tired, but not sleepy. I kept pushing on, and after passing the courthouse, I stopped briefly at a small breakfast inn and got myself a cheeseburger. While it was being made, I spoke to the locals, and it was story time. There were people of all kinds: motorbikers, construction workers, truck drivers, students, etc. After I shared my quest, I was pleasantly surprised when the lady handed over my burger and told me that it was on the house. The first act of kindness, my first free meal during the race. They asked me to keep my eyes open for Holly Bobo, a girl who had been abducted from her house and was still missing.

I made it to Huntingdon, had my cheeseburger, took a cold shower and tried to sleep, but the attempt was in vain. I cleaned up my blisters, which were getting worse, treated them with lots of peroxide and let them dry before applying fresh Band-Aids. 3 hrs went by with little sleep. Soon, Joshua joined me. His crew was equally tired. I stepped out for a bit and met Sal and Sherry. Sal was just heading out, while Sherry wanted to catch some more rest. When I couldn’t get any more sleep, I decided to hit the road, leaving Josh and his crew back at the motel.

It was raining cats and dogs, and by the time I had filled my backpack, the rain had subsided. Though the sun wasn’t out, it was humid and the air was dry. Breathing was getting very difficult. A gentleman who was mowing his front yard asked me where I was going, and when I told him that I was going to Lexington, his jaw dropped. He waved at me to get in his truck, and when I told him that it was a race, he just stared for a moment and continued with his mowing business. He must have been thinking, “What an idiot”, but it was very nice of him to offer me a 25-mile ride.

I saw a familiar face on my way to Lexington: it was my dear friend John Spencer. He was biking on the course. Meeting a familiar face during Vol State is the best thing that can happen. We chatted a bit, and he told me that he had met a couple more runners ahead of me. Must be Sal and Sherry, I thought. While he took off to meet other runners, I caught up with Sherry on my way. I gulped another bottle of chocolate milk, and Sherry and I headed out together. Our next stop was at Parkers Crossroads. We made a quick stop at McD. I had an apple pie and a large smoothie, as it was getting difficult to keep anything solid down. As we were passing through the interstate intersection, the signboard was showing “Nashville”. I read it as “Heaven” until Sherry hollered at me and I realized that I was en route to hell :).

Sherry is such an awesome runner. Listening to her ultrarunning stories and experiences made me realize what a strong-willed woman she must be. I first met her at the Oak Mountain 50K in Alabama in 2010. She left me in the dust on the last uphill climb. While I was struggling to even walk that hill, she ran the hills and put me to shame. I was so looking forward to meeting her, and time permitted me to run a bit with her. We made another quick stop at a convenience store, and I drank a bottle of Starbucks cold coffee. The store was owned by an Indian guy, and he hollered “Jai Hind” when I was leaving the store and wished me luck.
Lexington came into sight pretty soon, but fatigue was setting in. It had been close to two days and I had had very little sleep. We sat at a gas station. I gulped a bottle of Coke and took care of my blisters. Fred Murolo caught us at the gas station, and he retired for the night at a motel close by, while Sherry and I decided to get to Parsons by morning.
First Low Point:
After a few hours of running/walking, the fatigue got so bad that taking even one step was getting very difficult. I decided to crash on the side of the road for a while. Sherry wanted to rest too. We found a spot on the side of the road and rested for a bit. I napped a good half hour. I just wanted to lie down for a few more hours, but we decided to keep moving. Time was ticking so slowly. My feet were waging a war inside my shoes. I could feel the blisters getting worse but dreaded looking at them. It got worse when we hit the section of the road that had very little shoulder. There was some kind of construction work going on, and the debris on the shoulder was so hard on my already blistered feet. I swore a little here and there when I would accidentally step on a sharp object. The section was getting hilly as we got closer to Parsons. I just hated every bit of it. Soon, we spotted Sal in the distance. Carl and Gary passed us at that point. Day 2, we called in, 107 miles.
We crashed at a motel that was owned by an Indian family. The Indian flag on my shirt lit up their faces. Sal, Sherry and I were at a very low point. I looked at Sal, and he told me how badly he was hurting and that he was going to switch himself to “Survival Mode”. I switched to Survival Mode too. The steep uphill climb and the nasty shoulder debris had taken a toll on my blistered feet. They were hurting so badly that I thought my race was over. I was at a very low point. How am I going to continue another 207 miles with these feet? The very thought was mentally challenging. I regretted so much taping my feet with the adhesive tape. But the damage was done and I needed to keep going. No point in complaining, coz everyone’s hurting, one way or the other. I got myself into this, and I need to get out of it by myself. I tried to sleep, but I had a nightmare that I was calling Carl and letting him know that I was dropping from the race. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. With the help of the first aid kit provided by the hotel owner, I took care of my blisters, took a shower and got ready to hit the road.
While getting ready to leave, we saw Fred coming in. He was barely moving at that point. I could see that he was hurting really badly. I personally went to thank the Indian family for their hospitality. The Indian masala chai that they offered lifted my spirits a bit. I devoured a huge cheeseburger at a small joint across from the motel while sharing our stories with the strangers. One of them said that they had seen another runner a few miles ahead. We all thought it must be Abi. I filled my backpack with lots of ice and water and headed towards Linden.
The road from Linden to Perryville had very little shoulder, and the drivers were so rude. Sherry almost got hit by a pickup truck, and the driver didn’t give a damn about us. Soon we reached Perryville and crossed the bridge across the Tennessee River.

Switch to normal mode and begging for food:
Though I started from Parsons in “Survival Mode”, running the little bit of downhill towards Linden made me feel that I was still in the game, and I moved to “Normal Mode”. But I was having a different issue now. Starvation. Though I had gulped a large chocolate milkshake and a cheeseburger, I was hungry. Earlier, a stranger had offered us some green apples. I ate them and took some more from Sherry, and I was still hungry. It was like a car full of gas all of a sudden going empty. A few miles before Linden, I spotted a bar on top of a hill. I wanted food, period. While Sherry and Sal waited, I went up the hill to see if the bar had anything to offer. It was a local country bar. Three or four gentlemen with very strong southern accents were arguing with each other about something, while the waitress looked completely wasted. I had to repeat everything three times. When I asked whether she had any food, she said “No”. I persisted; I was ready to take anything, even leftovers, at that point. When she looked at my shrunken face, she took pity on me and offered me her frozen pizza, which she had saved for herself for after her shift. I was smiling by now. Like a wanderer in the desert who found an oasis.
I quickly went down the road and told Sal the good news and saw his face light up. Sherry decided to lie down instead. The waitress offered us some Mountain Dew while the pizza was getting ready. The bunch of drunkards heard our story and thought we were on drugs. One even said, “You are stupid or what; there are lots of things to do for fun”, in a mocking tone, and everyone laughed. I did too. Here I am in the middle of nowhere in the wee hours of the night, begging for food at a bar. How often do you get to do this in real life? Meanwhile, the pizza was ready, and the waitress saw the whole pizza disappear right in front of her eyes. We ate it as if we hadn’t eaten in days. Though it didn’t fill me up, my gas meter went up a bit. Any amount of fuel is good. This angel, though she was drunk, was the only reason I survived another night and kept moving.
The James Bond Dog:

Feeling rejuvenated, we started our long walk to Hohenwald, which was about 19 miles from Linden. Having taken care of the body, it was time to take care of the mind. At this point, I had hardly slept since the race started. Though we all kept a good pace, we needed some rest. We napped a bit on the side of the road, and then after about 5 miles we stopped again. This is where something funny happened. While we were all lying down on the side of the road, we heard something, as if a dog was tiptoeing and following us. Assuming that it must be a hallucination, I closed my eyes briefly, when Sal hollered again, saying he had heard something. It was indeed a dog. It was tiptoeing so slowly and silently, following us as if someone had deployed it to spy on us. When we got up in a jiffy, the dog barked so loud, signaling all its friends in the neighborhood, and the next few minutes were crazy. Running and walking at a fast pace on my blistered feet was no fun. It was a long night. The sun was out before we knew it, and when we saw a nice church parking lot, we decided to lie down there for a few minutes. We soon got company, but these dogs were much friendlier than the previous ones. That’s when we saw Abi passing us. She looked fresh and strong and was running. I had my doubts whether I would ever get back to running at a decent pace in my life after Vol State. At this point, 3mph was the new 7mph. As we entered the city limits, we picked up some food from a gas station and crashed at a motel in Hohenwald. This brought us to the end of Day 3, Mile 144.
I started to wish a truck would hit me:
After a cold shower and taking care of the blisters, I slept a good 2 hours, but nightmares woke me up. That’s when I saw Sherry taking off. She had some foot issues and had to go to Walmart. I tried to get more sleep, but it didn’t work so well. Sal and I got ready and went to Hardee’s. We had their biggest and heaviest cheeseburgers and washed them down with several refills of Coke. Our goal for the day was to get to Columbia. We met Gary and Sandra on our way, just before we hit the Natchez Trace. When Gary asked how I was feeling, I told him, “Gary, I wish a truck would hit me, not hard, but just a little bit to injure me, so that I can take that as an excuse and drop out of the race. I would gain sympathy from others and yet leave the race as a hero”. That’s exactly what I told him, and I was being honest. That was the thought running through my head while running from Lexington to Parsons. I was hurting bad, very bad. Later that day Gary put this in his update but didn’t reveal my name.
“i think this call for an updated list bio: fantasy ultra goal: to be hit by a truck, and only injured slightly.”

After chatting a bit with Sandra and Gary, we headed towards Columbia. I was worried about Sherry at this point, but Carl assured us that she was moving strong and was past the Natchez Trace. It was just Sal and me at this point. Soon, we reached Hampshire. We found a store with a vending machine. I was hungry by now. It’s so frustrating when you have food right in front of you but you can’t have it. All that was between me and the food was a thin pane of glass. I was drooling, looking at the bags of chips inside the convenience store like a dog in chains looking at food. It’s right there, but I just can’t have it. I was really sad. I should have carried an extra cheeseburger. I drank a couple of Cokes instead and marched towards Columbia.

We made it to Columbia early in the morning, Day 4 and Mile 184. Sherry had already made it to Columbia, TN that morning and crashed at a motel. We crashed at the same motel later that morning. Sherry took off early, though. Sal and I rested a bit. I inspected my feet, and there were more blisters. As I adjusted my feet to accommodate the existing blisters, new blisters would show up in another spot. Removing the socks was the most painful thing. At one point it was so excruciating, it felt like walking on razor blades. I slept a bit, only to be awakened by the same signature nightmare. All my nightmares were the same: making a call to Carl, telling him that I am done with the race and asking him to pick me up. That nightmare was my wake-up alarm throughout the race.
Let not your left hand know what your right hand is doing – Mat 6:3
Content with the few hours of rest that I had managed to get, I stepped out. It felt like an oven, and it was 100% humid. Sal and I hopped inside Shoney’s and decided to have a long lunch to beat the heat. The waitress was so kind. She was very excited to hear about our quest and went around the tables and told every other guest she was waiting on about us and our adventure. I ate like a pig. It was a lunch buffet, and I ate at least four plates of food and downed several glasses of Coke and a huge dessert. When it was time to get the check, the waitress told me that it had been taken care of. A random stranger she was waiting on had paid for our food and had also asked her not to tell us until he had left the restaurant. I so wanted to thank the stranger, but he was long gone. In a world where everyone deserves attention, this random stranger not only taught me a great lesson but also how to live by it. His act of kindness really lifted my spirits and made my day. Like they say, “Today you, tomorrow me”. I asked the waitress to pass on our sincere thanks to that man if he ever showed up again.
It was still hot outside, but we decided to keep moving. Sal kept a good pace, and I tried to keep up with him. I refueled at a couple of vending stations on my way and narrowly missed the “Bench of Despair”, a very important landmark of the Vol State course. A stranger who knew about the Vol State stopped by the side of the road and handed me a water bottle. After a few miles, Gary and Sandra greeted us with their big smiles. Gary said that we had picked the wrong time of day to run. It was a hot day, and he mentioned that he had measured the surface temperature of the road and it was like 146F. I shared the story about the stranger’s act of kindness with Sandra, and we made our move.

I love Tennessee, period.
I had nothing but good experiences throughout the race. Even back at the crazy bar filled with drunks, people were kind. On my way to Lewisburg, just before I got to the intersection, a cute old man in a pickup truck, probably in his 80s, stopped by and offered to take me to his house for supper and drop me back at the exact location. I still remember his face. His act of kindness moved me. I hated to say “No”, but I had to, and I gave him the reason. He asked me to be safe and left. I remember telling Carl how I had met a cute old man who was the best granddad one could ever ask for. Pain and suffering were inevitable during Vol State, but I am so glad and thankful for the experiences, and I enjoyed every bit of it as an unaided runner. I have read a couple of storybooks about wayfarers, but getting to live a life like that was something. No matter how good I get with words, one has to be there, in that moment, to understand such experiences. While my pain and suffering were making me strong, people and their acts of kindness along my way were teaching me to live and appreciate life.
Amid the “pain and suffering” is the “pure joy” of traveling the open road with nothing but your own power moving you forward.

My encounter with a cop, from getting investigated to becoming Facebook friends:
I hadn’t seen Sal in a long time. It was already dark, and I was sitting by the courthouse in Lewisburg. I thought I would wait a bit for Sal to catch up and then head out to Shelbyville. I took my shoes off and was massaging my feet, and there were two guys sitting next to me. One was a huge guy with piercings and tattoos, and the other was a skinny guy. We had a little conversation, I told them about the race, and they were pretty shocked. But what happened in the next hour was something that I never expected.
I see a cop car going around the courthouse:
Huge guy: Watch out. He is gonna go around the court house.
Me: <Blinking>
Huge Guy: He is gonna go around the court house one more time and pull over right in front of us
Me: <Panicking and blinking>
Huge guy: He is pulling over, act kewl..don’t worry
Me: <Thinking: why should I act kewl and normal>
By now the cop had pulled up right in front of me and had his huge beaming light turned ON, pointing it at my face. I was panicking by now but acted as if it was no big deal. The cop was asking for backup, and two more cars joined him. He stepped out of the car and took my ID. Another longest 10 minutes of my life. I waited until he came back to me and asked me what I was doing out at this time. I explained about the race. He frowned. I explained in detail; he frowned more. Finally he asked me to leave right away and to meet him at the Shell station, which was about 0.5 miles from the courthouse. I picked up my stuff and left while the cops were having a word with the other two guys.
As soon as I made it to the Shell gas station, one cop followed me and asked me more about the race and other details. Once he was convinced that I was a nice guy (a little self-compliment), he got interested in the race. I started telling him about Vol State, Barkley, Strolling Jim, ultramarathons and Laz. He was surprised that there were events of such crazy long distances and that there were people who ran such races. We spoke like good old college buddies for about an hour about ultramarathons and about India. The cop went ahead, launched Facebook on his laptop and “liked” the Vol State FB page. He said he was going to track my progress on Google Maps. Then he asked me whether I would be his friend on FB. When I told him how to find me, he sent me a FB friend request with a note: “This is the nice cop you met at Lewisburg”. I told him that I would accept as soon as I got back to civilization. He wanted to click a picture with me, and we waited for Sal to show up, but when he did, Sal was in pretty bad shape. While we refueled at the gas station, the cop went ahead, helped Sal with his motel booking and left. People had been nice throughout the race, including cops. Sal was thinking about dropping at that point. His hands and legs were swollen pretty badly. I walked him to the motel, asked him to reconsider his decision in the morning and took off to Shelbyville.
Those surviving on the road are doing just that: surviving…barely
It was a long night. I looked up and saw a plane in the sky. Up there, inside that big nice tube, is a guy sitting in his chair in an air-conditioned space, with a nice blanket and a comfortable pillow and everything he wants to eat and drink, and there must be a beautiful waitress attending to him if he needs anything. Back to reality: here I am on a stinky road in the middle of the night, out of water and out of food, limping on my blistered feet, suffering. Such is life. God is good, beer is great, people are crazy: I was singing that song loud, really loud. If any of my friends had seen me at that time, they would have thought I had gone nuts. I made it to Bedford Co by the middle of the night. Sleep deprivation was killing me. I might have slept for about 6 hours since the race start. I was starving. I was surprised, since I had eaten a whole large pizza, but I was still hungry. I got to a nice little breakfast café by 4:30AM. I knocked at the door, and the lady told me that they opened at 5:00AM. I asked her for some water, and she let me in to refill my backpack.

I couldn’t stay awake at this point. I looked around and there was a church and a cemetery behind it. Perfect. I headed into the cemetery and found a nice spot to lie down. I passed out for about an hour and woke up to my alarm, the same old nightmare. That one-hour nap felt so good. I passed on the idea of stopping for breakfast and sneaked out of the cemetery. I wanted to make it to Wartrace by noon and was planning to crash at my good friend Amanda’s house. The Shelbyville courthouse came into sight, and I made my check-in call to Carl. Day 5, Mile 227.
It was a hot day. I could feel it. My feet were getting cooked inside my VFF. I should have stayed in Shelbyville, but I braved the sun and decided to head to Wartrace. I regretted my decision. I felt horrible. The heat was sucking everything out of me. I drank the whole 100oz of water and was still thirsty. The heat was making my already blistered feet worse. There was not even a single shady spot to rest. I had no choice but to push, and when the Marathon gas station came into view, I ran into the station, grabbed a gallon water jug and drank 3 ¼ of it. A lady who was buying some stuff stood there astonished while I was drinking. I paid for it afterwards and sat for a while before going another mile to my friend’s house.
I crashed on the couch and tried to sleep a bit, but my mind just wouldn’t rest. It just wouldn’t hibernate or even go idle. The effort of trying to go to sleep was worse than the blisters. My feet were visibly swollen, especially near the toes. Two new additions to the blister family: a huge blister on a toe of my right foot and a big one on my left heel. I tried to stand up and felt miserable. I have 78 more miles to go. I switched myself to survival mode. I have 5 more days, and even if I average 16 miles a day, I should be able to finish the race. I refueled myself and hit the shower, which ended up being the most painful one. I was moved to tears while replacing the Band-Aids. I decided then to push to the finish line. No more sleep breaks, only rest stops to refuel. It wasn’t about getting to the rock; I just wanted to be done with it. I was losing myself. Patience, patience, I told myself.
That night I called my mom:
While I was getting used to the newly formed blisters and fighting the fatigue, an uninvited visitor showed up: a shin splint on my left leg. Yet another lonely night. I was really getting worried. What if it got so bad that I couldn’t keep up a 16 mile/day average? To keep myself distracted, I called a couple of friends. I spoke to Joshua for a while and then to Diane. I was so craving a soda when I was a few miles away from Manchester. I looked through my bag and found four quarters and a $5 bill, but no more quarters and no $1 bill. The vending machine wouldn’t take the $5 bill, and I didn’t have enough quarters. Another dog drooling at the food scene. I stood in front of the vending machine in silence, expecting a miracle to happen, that out of nowhere a soda bottle would pop out. I was wrong, and I left, frustrated.
The shin splint was getting worse. The left foot was swollen by now. A little ice would help, but where would I find any in the middle of nowhere? It felt as if a brick was attached to my left foot. I was literally dragging my left foot every single step. I felt the need to sit down, but I was dreading the pain that I would have to endure once I started walking again. A church graveyard came into sight, and I sat down there for a while. I couldn’t go to sleep, but just sitting down felt so comfortable. I wanted ice so badly that I decided to keep moving, and I was so glad to find a convenience store. I drank a couple of Cokes, picked up a 10lb bag of ice and started walking. There was no motel in sight. I tried calling Sherry to check if she had crashed anywhere in Manchester, but there was no reply. I finally found an abandoned gas station. I threw my backpack down in frustration and kept the ice bag on my left foot. It was still hot and humid, and the ice was melting away. I told Carl about it later that morning while I was at Hillsboro, and Gary included it in his update.
naresh is in hot pursuit in hillsboro (app 260).
ok, he isnt in hot pursuit
he is sitting in an abandoned convenience store
with a bag of ice on his foot
weeping.
says his foot feels like a brick attached to his ankle.
says he only hopes to wake up someday and not feel like this.
That’s right. I was only hoping to wake up someday and not feel like this. I called my mom. She was surprised by the late-night call, but I covered it up with a couple of lies. We spoke about a lot of stuff going on in the family and in India. After hanging up, I wept. No point sitting here and drowning myself in self-pity. I am here because I chose to be. I was thinking about Mike’s email: This is your job for the next 4-10 days. Accept it. It’s not easy, and it only gets harder. Exponentially harder in the last 30 miles. He was right, every bit of it.
When your whole world consists of discomfort, the only thing to do is laugh. I told myself to HTFU and move on. To really HTFU. By now the ice bag was nothing but a piece of plastic lying on my leg like a blanket. I took a few steps, and it felt much better. Icing didn’t make the foot any better, but at least it didn’t get worse. The early morning sun rays brought some hope. I took it real easy, maintained a comfortable pace and made it to Hillsboro.
When I’m weak, then I’m strong:

I knew the tougher sections were ahead of me, but I tried hard not to think about them and just take it one step at a time. I was really at a low point that morning, but “This too shall pass”, and it did pass. I enjoyed some good biscuits with sausage and bacon and lots of coffee. Rain or shine, I was ready to hit the road. The waitress helped me fill my backpack and I took off. I called Carl and updated him as well. Day 6, ~260 miles.

It was a hot day. Hillsboro to Pelham took forever. I put my head down and just looked at the ground in front of me and took one step at a time. A couple of guys in a pickup truck offered me a ride, which I had to decline. They even tried to hand me a $5 bill, which I also had to decline. I told them it was a race. They replied, “God save you”, and took off. I called Diane, and she told me there was a café in Pelham, open till 2:00PM, where I would get good food. I did make it by 2:00PM and had a huge salmon, rice, mashed potatoes and lots of Dr Pepper. Carl was driving along the course, and he guessed that I would be at the café. Amy and Carl joined me for lunch, and I told them the cop story. A friendly stranger had joined me for lunch before Carl and Amy did. He gave me lots of pointers about the course, but he said that the next 6 miles were going to be tough.

Every time I explained the VS course to someone, once I got to the Monteagle section, their jaws would drop. I understood that it was going to be a tough climb but never realized it would be that hard. In the middle of the day, when it’s hot, the pain increases exponentially. It was so steep that a biker got off and started pushing his bike. I was out of water by that time. Once I got to the top, I was glad that it was done. I headed into a bar again, and everyone just froze for a second. One guy asked me whether it was raining. “No, I am just sweating hard because I ran up the mountain”, I replied. While the bartender was filling up my handheld, I was explaining about the race and trying to stay in the A/C a little longer. Climbing Monteagle really aggravated my shin splints, and there was a huge swelling. I stopped at another gas station on my way to Tracy City and iced my feet. Knowing that I wouldn’t find anything once I started towards Jasper, I bought lots of Danish buns and beef jerky and made it to Tracy City.
I can write a book titled PATIENCE:
I hated the Tracy City-Jasper section as much as I hated Lexington-Parsons. Hardly any shoulder, and the traffic would just zoom by. I literally had to stop every time a car approached and wait until it passed. I don’t want to get hit by a car now, not even slightly. Along with the shin splint and blisters, fatigue was setting in, and it was getting real bad. I hadn’t slept since leaving Wartrace. Pain kept me wide awake. The body is willing, but the mind won’t shut down. The more I thought about the finish line, the more frustrating it got, and I was losing my patience. “Patience – the capacity to tolerate trouble or suffering without getting angry or upset.” It’s a word with no time factor associated with it. Tolerate, but without getting upset or angry. That’s precisely what the Jasper section taught me. I was so pissed off at one point after leaving Wartrace that I picked up a stick and started hitting a tree to vent, but not today. Carl, in his email, told me, “Don’t underestimate the need for patience”, and emphasized it in caps. I took a couple of deep breaths and kept pushing forward, to be patient, to learn to appreciate the journey as well as its completion, knowing that this too shall pass. I have started the race and passed the middle, and the end is inevitable, and if I am patient enough and endure, I will get there.
Sandra drove all the way from the rock to check on me. They knew that I hadn’t had any sleep in the past 30+ hours. Seeing a familiar face in the middle of the night was such a blessing. We spoke for a minute, and she took off and returned after a while with Amy.
The downhill section to Jasper was a killer. I would have loved this section any other day, but not today. The grade was so tough to walk, and running was the only way I could find some relief for my tired feet. At one point, I felt I should curl my body into a ball and just roll down the hill. It was very humid, and I was out of water by now. In my mind I imagined that I would be in Kimball, TN once I was done with the downhill, but I was wrong. The downhill took me to Jasper, and it’s another 5 miles to Kimball from there. I had a little water left in my handheld, and I tried to ration it.
I was sleepwalking on the Kimball road by now. A cop stopped me, and I told him about the race. He looked for a spare reflective vest in his trunk for me, but he didn’t have one. He asked me to be safe and warned me about the traffic. I asked him whether he had extra water by any chance, but he didn’t have any. I was totally out of water by now and could feel the effects of dehydration. I started walking at a snail’s pace. The sound of speeding vehicles gave me hope that the interstate junction was close and that I could fill up with water there, but the intersection was nowhere in sight. It was just like the mirage that makes a man wandering in the desert think there’s water close by.

Seeing a Waffle House in the distance gave me hope that I would survive. A part of me wanted to stay at a motel and rest, but another part of me wanted to keep pushing and be done with it. I listened to the latter. I had a huge BLT sandwich, a big bowl of chili, lots of hash browns and lots of water. The waitress was surprised that I drank so much water, and she asked whether I was doing OK. I told her about the race and that I was at Mile 300. They thought I was on drugs and didn’t talk to me much after that. I don’t blame them. I was smelling nasty and looked dirty, and my zombie look was proof enough.
The Longest 14 miles of my life:
I still had a good shot at a Sub 7. I couldn’t believe that I was thinking this way. I was ready to push the lever from Survival Mode to race mode again. It’s just amazing how time and energy can affect the mind. Moments ago, I just wanted to finish the race, and now I was aiming for a Sub 7. I was determined. I have come this close; why not give it a shot? At the same time, I didn’t want to get overconfident. The race is not over until I set foot on that Rock. It was a tug of war. Push hard for a Sub 7, or take it easy and finish. I looked at my shin splint, and it looked pretty swollen. I hadn’t removed my shoes since I left Wartrace, so I knew pretty surely there was a nasty sight inside. I decided to push for a Sub 7 and take my chances. I read the directions and walked against the traffic, hoping that it would take me to the New Hope Bridge, but when I didn’t see it coming, I decided to backtrack and go the other way. I lost a good 45 minutes in this confusion. I walked across the New Hope Bridge, crossing the Tennessee River one more time, and stood there for a minute. I had crossed the Tennessee River three days before, after leaving Parsons, and here I was crossing it again. I took a moment to appreciate everything that I had been through and thanked God for enabling me with His strength; without Him I am nothing. He was my strength when I was weak. When I had every reason to drop out of the race, the Lord gave me His strength and brought me this far, and I had no doubt that He would enable me to get to the finish line. I called Carl to let him know that I was just crossing the bridge and made my way towards Sand Mountain.

I spoke to Josh briefly and told him my position. He was excited for me and told me to get it done. The traffic was so bad, the roads so narrow, with lots of twists and turns. The curves were too sharp. Sometimes I had to stop well ahead, based on the sound of the distant traffic, and let the car pass. They were driving too fast. One car passed me so close that I lost my balance, fell down and luckily ended up in someone’s yard. I am glad it wasn’t anything serious. I was extra careful from then on. Making my way towards Sand Mountain, I was going through the directions, and they said “Easy 10K to the finish”. I underestimated the “easy 10K” part and dumped most of my water and ice before climbing Sand Mountain. Another big mistake.

As I started climbing Sand Mountain, I saw Carl, Gary and Abi going up the hill, and they said they would wait for me at the state line, which would be the 495 km milestone. The uphill climb was very difficult, especially for my shin; it was crying in pain. I looked at my watch; Sub 7 was out of reach by now. The little detour at New Hope was a waste of 45 minutes. A precious 45 minutes. No regrets at this point. Gary was clapping and encouraging me, along with Carl, Abi and Donald (Don’s crew). When Abi approached and asked how I felt, my instant reply was “I want to kill this guy”, pointing towards Gary. For making the last 10K so difficult and turning it into hell, as if I hadn’t had enough of it. Everyone had a good laugh, as no one expected that response from me.

5K to the finish line. That Einstein guy was right about his theory of relativity. You sit next to a pretty girl for one hour, and it feels like a minute, as opposed to when you sit on a hot stove for one minute, and it feels like an hour. That 5K took me forever. Time slowed down, really slowed down. I was forced to witness the passing of every second of every minute. The more anxious I got, the slower time passed. Finally, I made it to the cornfields. It’s not too far now. Carl asked me whether I was cognizant enough to follow the pink ribbons that would lead me to the rock. He knew that it had been over 36 hours since I had shut my eyes, and he was really concerned. But I was wide awake. This is it. This is the moment. This is what I have been waiting for. I assured him that I would meet him at the rock, and they took off.

I started passing the pink ribbons one at a time as the course wound through the cornfields. After a point, I started running. The excitement was too much to hold. Day 1 was flashing through my head. I had been scared and full of doubts, not knowing whether I would be able to accomplish something of this magnitude, and here I am, still in pain and suffering, but running towards the finish. Mind took over body, and all the pain seemed very trivial. The rock was in sight. Carl was at the rock to make sure that I didn’t trip and fall off the ledge. I walked to the rock, and Carl hollered to Gary, “NOW”. The timer stopped. It’s finished. It’s over. It’s freaking over. 7 days 00:55:04. First Unaided Finisher and Fourth overall.

I sat down on the rock, the place where I wanted to be for the past 7 days. I ran, I walked, I ate and I slept, going through heat, days and nights, through pain and suffering, to get here. I sat right there. I was trying to talk, but it was getting difficult to say anything. The pain that had gone mute briefly returned with full force. When I couldn’t talk any more, tears took over. No matter how hard I tried not to get emotional, I couldn’t help it. I sat there. In silence. No one spoke a word. They allowed me to be in the moment, to cherish the experience, to enjoy my finish. I covered 56 miles on my last day. Vol State was an experience, an adventure of a lifetime. It taught me so much. A challenge greater than I ever imagined, it showed me what I am capable of: to endure and keep moving forward in spite of pain and suffering, to have fun, to live in the moment and, above all, to take one day at a time.

Carl helped me to a chair, and everyone sincerely congratulated me on my finish. I finally drank good water. My mouth still tasted bad after drinking water from a dirty puddle.

I asked Gary, “Who’s the guy going back to Nashville on Monday after the race start, who?” He laughed. He knew very well how to encourage me, and he did exactly that. Abi offered me her course map (thanks a lot, Abi), which Gary signed for me: Naresh, “the Monday Man”, You are my HERO! – Laz

I had the opportunity to see every other runner finish. I was extremely glad to see Joshua finish the race, strong. He ran a sub-8min pace for the last three miles of the race. Now, that is something. We finished what we started. The full 500 km. It’s over.

Charity: Water

I am glad that our adventure didn’t cost us (Joshua and me) our lives. With support from amazing friends, we not only met the goal but exceeded it by over $1,000, and we’re still counting. Thanks so much for your contributions, support, wishes and prayers.

All’s well that ends well:
It was fun times after finishing the race. “Gary, it feels like I am in a spaceship” was my first reaction when I got in Gary’s car and the cold air was blowing on my face. The first time setting foot in a motorized vehicle in 7 days. When I insisted on staying awake in the car, Gary knew very well how to put me to sleep. “Just pull back the seat and lie down, you don’t have to sleep”, Gary told me. The next thing I remember, I am waking up in his driveway. Almost an hour flew by. When we decided to crash for a night at a motel in Kimball, I managed to get a good discount, as the owner was Indian. But when he heard about the race and the cause, he refused to charge me for the room, and he insisted. He invited all of us for lunch. This would be Gary’s first time tasting Indian food, and I told him how lucky he was that his first experience was homemade Gujarati food. The food was delicious. Carl, Sandra, Gary and I enjoyed the food and, above all, the hospitality extended by the family.
And just like that, it all came to an end. No more sleeping on the side of the road, in parking lots and cemeteries. No more travel stories and meeting new people. Now that I am back to reality, the whole experience remains a good memory, and the journey to the rock has served me well.

Post race

• Mom, Dad, Sis, I’m sorry!!
• I accepted the cop’s friend request and we are buddies on FB now.
• I read ALL the responses from my friends in the Chennai Runners group. Huge thanks to Navin for keeping everyone posted about my progress in detail. Navin, thanks a lot for your support and encouragement and for being there when I needed you the most. Thanks for all the time you spent writing daily updates for our group. I also want to thank everyone from Chennai Runners for your support and prayers. I sincerely appreciate each and every one of your thoughts for me.
• Thanks to my friend Angel and my friend Jeff Bauer for keeping all my friends updated. Jeff, your timely tips and suggestions are greatly appreciated. Thank You!!
• My blisters have healed up pretty well, and I treated myself to a nice bike. Thinking about riding the Vol State course sometime soon.

Battle of the Vol State

they got on the ferry & they rode it to kentucky,

they were headed for a battle in the state of tennessee.

there was heat and pain a waiting, but they didnt waver

they were bound to make their way; to the castle rock, you see.

the sun went down and the runners kept a comin

there wasnt near as many as there was the morn before.

they ran thru the bottoms and they ran over ridges

they ran thru dry stretches where a camel wouldnt go.

the sun came up and the runners kept a comin’

there wasnt quite as many as there was the night before.

they ran so far that stray dogs couldnt follow

down the endless blacktop to the slopes of never more.

the sun went down and the runners kept a comin

there wasnt near as many as there was the morn before

they left their homes & they left their loved ones

to fight a hopeless battle in the state of tennessee.

but those who reached the rock down in georgia

found the prettiest sight that they would ever see…

the finish. – Laz