For most folks in this world, the name Barkley is synonymous with Football and/or Basketball. For trail runners, it is a symbol of possibility, triumph, and failure. The Barkley Marathons is a race created by Gary Cantrell (aka Lazarus Lake) in the late 80’s, inspired by the prison escape route of Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassin James Earl Ray, from Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary and into the wilderness surrounding it. It is widely regarded as the most difficult ultra marathon race in the world. Only 20 participants have finished the 5 loop course since 1995.

The Barkley Marathons gained significant media attention in the 2010’s from a handful of documentaries that were released covering the race. This led Laz and the race management team to create the Barkley Fall Classic in 2014 to give race hopefuls a crack at the “Big” Barkley experience. The “Baby” Barkley is a one loop, 50 km course through the mountains of Frozen Head State Park, around the Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary, and across a few chunks of private property.

Similar to the real race, the course is unmarked, and you receive no navigation help from support staff. In the Barkley Marathons, competitors have to copy down a set of points and directions from a master map onto their own to navigate the event. In the Barkley Fall Classic, each competitor receives a map at packet pickup that shows the full course. Regardless, plenty of turns were still missed out there in 2025.

I made it a point to thoroughly study the map the night before and day of the race. The morning of race day was filled with nervous excitement. As a newbie I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. I had built the race up enough in my head, so I would not take it for granted and prepare accordingly. Shortly after arriving at Brushy Mountain I had a few more toilet stops, some pep talks, and before we knew it Laz was lighting the cigarette. The race had begun!

With no prior experience at Frozen Head, I knew I did not want to be the very front of the pack. I also didn’t want to be too far back and get stuck in a bottleneck. I tried to settle into a top twentiesh spot once we reached the first off trail section. By the time we hit Rat Jaw I was in second place, whoops! That first look up Rat Jaw was something else. It was basically a wall with no end in sight covered in briars, thorns, and vines three feet deep. Powerline poles stuck out of center of the “path” every 100 feet or so to guide you to the top. The dude who decided to take point broke trail for the group for a solid 30 minutes. I took over a couple times with little to no success. Our pace, or lack thereof, was frustrating the conga line that had formed behind us.

“Spread out, spread out!”, someone shouted out from behind. A large group of runners took over the front pack and began aggressively busting through the briars. By this point my legs and arms were shredded, so it was a welcome development. The group reached checkpoint one in around 1 hour 30 minutes. Considering we had clocked around 3 miles at this point, my goal time was already looking out of reach.

There were some runnable portions following checkpoint one and I was able to regain lost positions. I ran with a group for a brief stint after we jumped onto Frozen Head’s trails. I bombed down the first descent gaining some time on the group. We covered what seemed like 100 switchbacks before heading back uphill. After running alone for a while, I started to question my location and stopped to check the map. Sure enough, I heard some grumbling in the distance, and the group had caught back up to me. At least I was on course!

Over the next handful of miles the cramp monster started to bite. At first my left calf started to tighten up. Then my right calf joined in on the fun. Before I knew my legs were playing musical cramps on the downhill switchbacks, alternating between legs and muscle groups. I had thoroughly prepared for unending climbs, I did not consider the beat down that sustained downhills put on your legs. The uphill that followed, forced a slowdown and let my legs chill out for a bit.

Before I knew it, I had crossed the infamous yellow gate at the campground. At the next aid I restocked my tailwind, slammed some H20, and got back out on course. I was in good spirits and felt strong despite the cramps. The next segment, Chimney Top, nearly did me in. It felt like I was walking the stairway to heaven, it just kept on going. I kept it moving regardless. A number of runners flew by on the way up and I trudged by a few were having a worse go of it than me. I tried running when it flattened at all, but mostly plodded along until the top, where it rejoined a gravel road. At this point in the race, everyone was finding their way into the pain cave.

Going down Rat Jaw was a hell of a lot better than going up. The 400 or so sorry souls that ascended as the sun was rising left a well established trail up the first half of climb. The lower half hadn’t been touched though. Two other runners and I were navigating the lower half together for a couple minutes. At one point they split left, and I decided to stay right. I didn’t see either of them again for the rest of the race.

At this point, over half of the course had been covered. I knew I just had to stay moving and a finish was possible. Finding my way around the prison and running down the black top was a slight reprieve from the gauntlet. I was quickly slapped with reality at the base of Meth Lab hill. The briar coverage was but a fraction of that on Rat Jaw, but boy was she was steeeeeep. A couple of exposed sections required scrambling on all fours. This was double black diamond trail running. Near the top, I crept around a couple more gentlemen who had passed me earlier in the day. Starting down the backside, the lead back started passing by heading the opposite direction. The turn around was close! Once I got there, members of the Coal Field Highschool Football team welcomed us with cold Coca Cola and ice. I’ve never tried heroin, but I imagine it feels similar to chugging two ice cold cokes and filling your hat with ice 8 hours into an ultra-marathon!

With most competitors on the out and back sections of the course, lap traffic was starting to become a thing. I made it a point to hype up every person I ran by. I dished out a lot of crispy high fives and enthusiastic compliments to the field. The support among competitors and community is one of my favorite things about ultrarunning. It was even more intense with the Barkley Fall Classic. Camaraderie and bonds are often formed through mutual suffering. The BFC 2025 course had an abundance of suffering.

I stopped more than expected going up Rat Jaw on the second go around. Some of the stops were to let fellow warriors slide down on their rear ends, some were because my quadriceps locked up, all were welcome! Multiple runners were hyping me up and telling me what position I was somewhere between 5th and 10th place. This really lit a fire in me. I continuously pushed up the rest of the hill.

After the next bib punch, runners had to navigate back to the new section of unmarked trail. Like an idiot I flew right by my turn and on down the trail for another 5 minutes before I realized my mistake. Once I was back near the fork, I saw a couple other runners hit the unmarked section and tagged along with them.

I ran with these dudes for a while until we hit the final round of hill climbs and spread apart. The stoke was high from this point because I knew I was going to finish and within my goal. I pushed hard for the last couple hours. I do not consider myself a "fast" runner by any means, but I feel like I came into my own on these hills. As the raced progressed I was able to maintain that forward momentum and crossed the finish line a tick over 12 hours in 8th place overall.