“We came from all over the world. We stayed in one place for days and nights on end. We won and lost together. No matter if we were runners, crew, organizers or like myself, a photographer.
This year’s Big Dog’s Backyard Ultra, which took place October 18-26 in Bell Buckle, Tennessee, shows we can coexist no matter where we come from, what culture we have in our blood, or which God we put our faith in. And this is no matter the result on the track, possibly the biggest victory of all.” ~ Jacob Zocherman
The start. We all know there will be many hours before the race will be serious. But all of us on the ground with all different tasks, we feel a relief as the race is underway. Because now we can all do what we came for. Fulfill the tasks that have been given to us.
After a very hot first day, bad weather is coming in during the first night of the race. Heavy rain and strong winds. For the runners it’s tough but all they have to do is continue running, but for the rest of us, we now have to deal with leaking tents, keeping the essentials dry, and keeping warm ourselves. As the morning comes many of us feel worn out after a rough night, and the race has only been going on for 24 hours.
Laz, the founder of the Backyard-concept. He has created something more than running, we come from all over the world, we live side by side, hand to hand, heart to heart, in order to make the best out of things. We help each other no matter our function. Because with the primitive lifestyle and lack of sleep we depend on each other, more and more as the days and nights float into one big blur.
The halfway point on the day-course. The only refuge there is. If you want to see something else than the camp as the rest of the track is off limits for all apart from the runners. It’s a strange feeling of being in the exact same spot for days and days on end, and that small little 5-minute walk becomes a safe haven for sanity and silence.
As a photographer, the race starts to get interesting after 2-3 days. The emotions come to life, the filters and masks are coming off. And all the backyards are the same, you have to preserve energy for the end, because the longer the race goes on, the more attentive you have to be to things as everything starts to matter since the margins become smaller and smaller. At the same time, the need for sleep gets bigger and bigger. A messed up combination.
As the race goes on, you start to see people and how they shift, from being smiling and outgoing to being more serious and silent. It’s a wonderful thing as a photographer to document a group of people over time since you start to recognize and pay attention of how they are, and it gives you an opportunity to really take photos of real moments. And at the same time you are starting to be a part of what you are documenting building personal bonds with many of the people.
Sarah Perry from the UK is on the way to break the world-record for women. I can sense it’s big, as my phone gets full with messages from clients who want photos of Sarah. The internet connection is bad and there is very limited charging options due to lack of electricity, so most of the work is done over the phone for me. I send the material from a specific spot where the connection is a bit better, but it means I cannot move as long as I’m sending. As clients sit in different timezones across the world it’s getting confusing to calculate when they need their material according to their wishes to get it at their primetime as I barely know the time at the race where I’m at. Because it’s only one hour at a time. Nothing else really matters here. Just one more loop.
To watch the crews supporting their runners is a very beautiful thing to see. They nurture them like the most precious thing on earth. Feeding them, tucking them in for power-naps, comforting them, crying with them, laughing with them. Not pushing too hard. And not too soft. They need a perfect touch in order for the runner to achieve one more loop.
The race is heating up. My brain is smoked. Too little sleep for too long of a time and its getting difficult to keep things apart. Who needs what material when? But thankfully people are helping me, making sure I eat, which is very easy to forget. Waking me up if I doze off for a few minutes when something is happening. It’s a team-game no matter what you do and no matter what team you support. Everybody wants everybody to win. And even if there will be only one last person standing we are all winning by being a part of this.
We are cheering at the runners. We want them to go on. Not for us, not for me, I’m getting tired and start to think of a bed after almost a week of camping out. So the obvious thing to do would be to hope for the race to be over. But still, we want people to succeed. It’s like a warm feeling, shared by all of us, even if it means we need to stay out here longer.
As the race draws near the end all of us are so emotionally invested in everything. We have been here for almost five days and five nights. I laugh a lot. I almost start to cry many times. The emotions are on the outside. And it’s beautiful because we all share these emotions, because together we have lived through all the loops, all the endless hours. Everyone’s victory becomes a victory for all and the same when someone gives up. It’s a collective rollercoaster of emotions.
After 114 hours the race is over. Everyone is worn out. Beaten up. The one who looks the best, is probably the winner, Phil Gore himself, just looking like he has been out on a stroll. I feel like I’m sleepwalking, but need to file a lot of material. So I try to keep my eyes awake and transfer material to the phone from the camera before ticking of who is getting what, and walk to that special place with connection. Its after midnight. Then I slowly make my way back to the tent. Bigs is now over. But I already know it will live on and continue inside of me in that place where only beautiful things are kept.
