Biscuit Run #9

Something To Do on the First Saturday in March

I’m taking a break from writing about the collapse of the music business this week to write about a thing I did that has been a big part of my life in recent years. Saturday, March 2, 2024, marks the ninth anniversary of the Biscuit Run.

Back in 2016 I was a year in to a fitness transformation. I co-founded a men’s fitness community in Franklin, part of the F3 network of small, peer-led workout groups around the country the previous year. At age 47 I finally had a fitness groove and community, and I sought new challenges. I signed up for my first half-marathon, the Rock n Roll Half Marathon in Nashville at the end of April.

I’d never run that far, so I was nervous, taking my training seriously. I wanted to run the entire 13.1-mile distance at least once so that I wouldn’t be anxious about finishing the race. One day at my son’s soccer practice I chatted with a fellow soccer dad named Todd (who has since moved away) about race training, and we came up with the idea for the Biscuit Run.

Here’s the concept. The Biscuit Run would be a FUN RUN, a community thing with no chip timers, no trophy to the winner because there’s no winner and everyone who finishes the difficult course is a winner! We’d run from our neighborhood in Franklin (adding an extra couple miles to get it to 13.1) to the Natchez Trace Parkway, a 444-mile scenic roadway National Park that winds through 3 states. The northern tip of the Trace ends at a legendary place called the Loveless Cafe, a popular breakfast joint, deservingly famous for its biscuits. We would all gather with our families for breakfast after burning all those calories. I created a 13.1-mile course and put the word out. I reserved a banquet space at the Loveless called the Magnolia Room, recruited about 20 runners from F3 and various running groups, designed a T-shirt, and arranged for our families to meet us at the finish line for the meal. The target time was 2 hours to be in time for a 9:00 breakfast.

We had perfect running weather - crisp and high 30s in the morning, sunny and low 50s at the finish line. I handled the 13.1 respectably, and everyone had a nice time. It was exactly what I’d envisioned: a community hang without the pressure of too much organization or hassle. A way to get out and do something challenging without much pressure or competition. A way to get a bunch of people together across generations to enjoy a good meal and fellowship. I crushed my 2-hour goal at the official race, and we all made plans to do it again the next year.

For the second Biscuit Run in 2017, we had perfect weather once again and everything went as planned. No drama. We had 25 runners, no idea why so many didn’t make it in the group photo. I guess it was an afterthought and some of the faster runners had already bailed. I ran a little faster and felt a little better at the finish line. This time I was training for my first full marathon in April, so running 13.1 seemed routine and no big deal. It was a foregone conclusion that we’d do it again.

The next couple years introduced some new faces, but few changes to the basic structure. A few of the hard core F3 guys wore rucks - weighted backpacks - for some extra challenge. Weather continued to be perfect (practically identical) each year - not what you’d expect in early March! I picked up a few minutes on my time each year as my running approved and I continued to run marathons and take on various new fitness challenges. Only issue was that I experimented with gels as part of my marathon training, which ruined my breakfast. I learned the hard way that I am not able to eat while running, period. That disqualifies me for ultras and, long-term, marathons as well. Ultras are as much eating contests as foot races. You have to take in thousands of calories to keep up your energy. That is not for me!

The BR became something I looked forward to at the end of every winter. I liked the experience of being a year older but a little faster each time. That’s a great trend!

2020, the 5th Biscuit Run, felt like a high water mark. We broke tradition and held the run on Leap Day, February 29, 2020. Despite growing news reports about Covid spreading in the United States, we went ahead and held the breakfast in the event room for over 60 people. I don’t remember thinking about Covid very much on the run or during breakfast. Did we even call it Covid yet? But if we’d waited until the first Saturday that year, we would have had to cancel. That’s the day after I got sent home from work, which was the status quo for nearly two years!

One of our regular runners, a dear friend and neighbor Christopher Close (pictured above) had recently had a recurrence of cancer that was troubling. But he was in high spirits and said the blessing for the meal. Sadly, Christopher passed away the following year. He loved the Biscuit Run and ran the first four before his health took a turn, and Christopher is one of the main reasons we decided we had to keep it going. It’s what he would want.

The core F3 group debated whether to run Biscuit Run 6 in 2021 at the height of Covid. We cancelled in-person workouts and went virtual for most of the prior year. It wasn’t an option to have the standard banquet in the Magnolia Room with friends and families, or even really to share a meal indoors. I got a sausage biscuit from the Shell station next door to the Loveless, and it wasn’t bad. I guess there’s an opportunity for pretty good gas station biscuits when the restaurant usually has an hour-plus wait. 10 of us showed, and as usual we had perfect weather. We broke tradition by foregoing the T-Shirt.

2021 was my fastest time. I haven’t kept track very well, but it’s the only time I’ve run the course (barely) under 1:50. The course is extraordinarily hilly, with one endless and brutal hill leading to the Natchez Trace bridge. I leaned into running during the Pandemic years - it became my therapy and release through a difficult time. And I did struggle through that time, it wasn’t a happy time for me. I ran to escape. I ran far, fast, and often. Roads, trails, through all weather. I ran to the point of injury and just kept running. I ignored the runner’s adage of “listen to your body” because I didn’t want to stop. What else would I do? f

Biscuit Run 7, in 2022, was a return to form of sorts, though we didn’t make shirts and we left runners to their own devices for breakfast. I realized how much damage I’d done to myself by running through injuries when my time was over 15 minutes slower than the previous year. It hurt like hell, and I decided it was time to see a sports doctor for a diagnosis. I learned that I had bursitis in both my hips, so I stopped running pretty much cold turkey. I did not enjoy that at all. I joined a gym. I did yoga. I did physical therapy. I walked a lot. I missed running.

The next year, Biscuit Run 8, had a more significant rucking presence. Someone proposed to change the name of the event to the “Biscuit Run and Ruck,” and I called b.s. Sure, you can ruck or walk or whatever. But it’s the Biscuit Run! Sorry. I was still rehabbing my hips so I wasn't trained to run 13.1. I walked the first half with the Ruckers and then jogged the 5+ miles on the trace. I didn’t pay attention to my time, and I had a great day. Perfect weather, as usual! At this point I did very little to organize the Biscuit Run. Other people look forward to the Biscuit and refuse to let it die. I’m so grateful.

Today we had our first not so great weather in all 9 years. It drizzled in the morning, but stopped by the traditional start time of 7:00. I left early because I’m still not quite and I’m still not trained to run like I used to. I walked the first couple miles with my dog and let her stop for her smells. Then I took it pretty slow, walking the steepest uphills that tend to really strain my hips. My average pace was around 12 minutes, Though I kept a respectable 10 minute pace on the Trace. Another nice feature of the BR course is that the last couple miles are downhill. You can pretty much roll to the finish.

It used to be exhilarating to run across the high bridge so close to the edge; but due to multiple people jumping to their death, they added high fences and barbed wire along the sides. “There is hope,” reads the sign at either end of the bridge. It’s a sobering reminder of how dark things can get for some people, and how important it is for us to have this sort of connection and fellowship. One reliable antidote to my own depression is community, and that is what this is about. People love this event because it brings us together to do something hard. It’s good to feel like you’ve earned a nice meal. It’s even better to share it with friends.

Next year will be the 10th, and the chatter after the run this morning was that we’ll do it up next year. No chip times, no charities, no calling any attention to ourselves. We’re just a bunch of crazy folks running the Trace! We’ll make shirts, we’ll bring it back to the Magnolia Room and do it family-style. Maybe we’ll open it up to more runners, or maybe people will just start showing up. I told Heather that I plan to cover that distance every first Saturday of March so long as I’m able, ideally the exact same course. She asked me not to hurt myself. I hope I can get healthy and set another PR, but I don’t really care. I’ll be a decade older than when we started doing this, and it’s enough to be able to keep going, or even stay the same speed. Here’s to Biscuit Run 10, maybe I’ll see you on the Trace.