Exactly a week after smashing the self-supported fastest known time record on the Appalachian Trail, Joe 鈥淪tringbean鈥 McConaughy was fidgeting in the waiting room of a Boston-area sports medicine physician. He was, by his own admission, kind of a wreck: blisters and sores just about everywhere, strains and possible tears in both hamstrings, an infected foot, and an injury behind one knee that he thought was probably serious. Still, McConaughy, age 26, couldn鈥檛 help but brainstorm about his next feats鈥攎aybe he鈥檇 try to set a 100-mile track record, just to see what would happen. Or see if he could get a late entry into a 50-mile trail race near his house. Or find another qualifier for next year鈥檚 100-mile endurance race, one of the toughest around.
鈥淚 keep thinking I鈥檓 in really good shape, even though I know I鈥檓 actually destroyed,鈥 he laughed.
McConaughy first made a real name for himself as a distance runner while enrolled as a student at Boston College. He finished his course work in 2014. His graduation present to himself? An FKT attempt of the Pacific Crest Trail, even though he鈥檇 never run more than 20 miles in a day. McConaughy dedicated the run to his cousin, who died of cancer at age two, and raised $30,000 for cancer research along the way. (Both the fundraising and the FKT were the subject of , a documentary produced and directed by Jack Murphy and Michael Dillon.)
McConaughy beat the supported FKT on the Pacific Crest Trail that year鈥攊t took him 53 days, 6 hours, and 37 minutes鈥攂ut the attempt took its toll. Three months later, he was doing more physical therapy than trail running.
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 enjoy it anymore,鈥 says McConaughy. 鈥淚 got chubby. My body was eating so much, and I wasn鈥檛 being active. When I did actually run, it felt miserable.鈥
Still, he couldn鈥檛 help but think about that FKT. He knew he could do 50 miles a day, the approximate pace required to beat the supported record on the Appalachian Trail, set two years ago by Scott Jurek and then bested by Karl Meltzer last September. Plus, resupplying on the AT is much easier than it is on the PCT. Maybe, then, he could break their records with a self-supported attempt. As audacious as that seemed, McConaughy figured it was worth a shot.
鈥淚 keep thinking I鈥檓 in really good shape, even though I know I鈥檓 actually destroyed.鈥
鈥淚t was crazy to think I was going up against Meltzer and Jurek. You read about them in books, which is enough to tell that they are some of the best, to say the least. These guys have all the pedigrees and all the support,鈥 says McConaughy. 鈥淪till, at the end of the day, I thought I had a shot if I could figure out a resupply plan.鈥
It took McConaughy and his girlfriend, fellow ultrarunner Katie Kiracofe, four months and a lot of Excel spreadsheets to dial in the logistics. He did training runs with friends on sections of the AT and completed two ultramarathons in back-to-back weekends. (Murphy and Dillon documented that in their film, .)
Still, McConaughy hadn鈥檛 even seen most of the trail before he began. His parents flew out to wish him well as he started his attempt at Georgia鈥檚 Springer Mountain. And then it was all up to him.
In the end, McConaughy bested Meltzer鈥檚 time by more than 12 hours鈥攃ompleting the route in 45 days, 12 hours, and 15 minutes鈥攅ven after losing nearly two days in the White Mountains to injuries and complications surrounding that infected foot. That鈥檚 a big part of what makes this dual record so significant, says Peter Bakwin, of , the clearinghouse for FKT attempts.
鈥淕uys like Jurek and Meltzer run with a fanny pack or a hydration vest. Every ten miles, they come across their crew, who rub their legs while they sit in a chair eating food someone else has prepared. At night, they sleep in a bed and ice their injuries. Contrast that with Joe, who carried a 25-pound pack and set up his own camp and slept on the ground every night.鈥
Just how difficult the attempt would be became apparent to McConaughy from the start. He figures he sustained a noteworthy injury pretty much every day. Less than a week into his attempt, he developed rhabdomyolysis, a potentially life-threatening condition in which dead muscle fibers are released into the bloodstream, compromising kidney function and sometimes leading to cardiac arrest or organ failure.
Rhabdo, as it鈥檚 often called, is fairly common in the ultrarunning world and often first manifests as unusually dark urine. McConaughy initially hoped that he was just dehydrated, so he slowed his pace and upped his water consumption for a couple days. By the third day of symptoms, when his urine turned blood-red, McConaughy knew he was potentially in big trouble. He stopped at a stream and tried to chug water, but that was difficult with a persnickety filter. Eventually, two ultrarunners passed by, took one look at him, and offered him their salt tablets, which he readily accepted. He then tried walking and, eventually, jogging slowly on the trail. About an hour later, he overtook one of the runners, who he says had collapsed of heat exhaustion on the trail. McConaughy tended to him as best as he could, dousing the runner in water and trying to force him to eat. In time, he was joined by two ER doctors who were also hiking the trail.
鈥淭hey elevated the runner鈥檚 legs and did all the things doctors know to do,鈥 says McConaughy. 鈥淎nd while we waited for him to get well enough to stand, they told me all about how serious rhabdo really is.鈥
By the time the runner was back on his feet, McConaughy was ready to call it a day. He peeled off the trail and spent the evening having dinner in Hot Springs, North Carolina, where he could lick his wounds and regroup. 鈥淔rom the start, I was always injured, always knocked around from the trail. You don鈥檛 really factor that into your calculations before getting started,鈥 he says.
By the third day of symptoms, when his urine turned blood red, McConaughy knew he was potentially in big trouble.
Then there was the psychological toll. It鈥檚 lonely in the wilderness. Friends and family had offered to meet him along the trail just to say hello, but McConaughy didn鈥檛 want to risk any claims that they were helping him. Controversy over recent self-supported attempts, he says, made him extra wary about the need to prove he鈥檇 received no assistance.
That鈥檚 one reason he also made the decision to grant Bakwin full access to his Spot, a satellite tracking device, which he figured would make validating his claim easier. He asked friends and family to keep track of it as well, and they鈥檇 text him whenever a couple of hours had gone by without an automatic update. That鈥檇 be the signal for him to start hitting a button that allows for manual location stamps and to take photos and videos, which he then posted .
鈥淚t was kind of frustrating,鈥 says McConaughy. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e already concentrating on accomplishing the most challenging thing you鈥檝e ever done. You鈥檙e out on the trail, you鈥檙e worrying about a million things and the 50 miles you have to finish, so a GPS isn鈥檛 really your first thought. But it鈥檚 the reality of what you have to do.鈥
Bakwin says McConaughy did a heroic job at validating his attempt鈥攁nd set the bar steep for all those who will try to best him in the future.
Still, there have been some detractors聽who point out that McConaughy accepted those salt tablets from the ultrarunners. Others raised objections when he posted an Instagram that he鈥檇 ordered outside Sugar Grove, Virginia. The Partnership Shelter there is legendary for its pizza delivery, which regularly caters to thru-hikers, but detractors argued McConaughy was receiving assistance by availing himself of the delivery service. They pointed to Dan 鈥淜notts鈥 Binde, who claimed to have set an FKT on the AT earlier in the season and was criticized for sending his credit card off with other hikers to get him supplies. Wasn鈥檛 the pizza the same thing?
Andrew Thompson, who set a supported record on the AT in 2005, says absolutely not. The pizza delivery, he says, is no different than a hostel or general store along the trail. 鈥淚 consider it part of the AT, just like any other trail amenity.鈥
Bakwin agrees. He says the shelter is known among thru-hikers for its pizza delivery, and ordering it is part of the experience鈥攖hat stopping for dinner there is no different than stopping to eat at some of the restaurants located directly on the trail in places like Shenandoah.
鈥淎 GPS isn鈥檛 really your first thought. But it鈥檚 the reality of what you have to do.鈥
No one showed up to help McConaughy. And Bakwin notes that hikers regularly order supplies from Amazon and have them delivered on the trail, even when they are attempting an FKT. The gray area of it all, he says, can easily become paralyzing鈥攏ot to mention an exercise in futility. To that end, he points out that Binde鈥檚 use of other hikers for resupplying wasn鈥檛 ultimately what did in his claim: It was his inability to resolve inconsistencies between his trail log and his Spot tracker, along with big gaps in his GPS data.
Those big gaps don鈥檛 exist in McConaughy鈥檚 data. And the little ones are closed by the photos he posted on social media. No one has contested McConaughy鈥檚 time claim, and other than those salt tablets and pizzas, no one has taken issue with how McConaughy ran his race. That he did it self-supported and still managed to best the records of heavily sponsored runners like Jurek and Meltzer is nothing short of epic, says Bakwin. 鈥淚 really love it where these real traditional thru-hiker types lay it down and go after the supported record,鈥 he says. 鈥淛oe isn鈥檛 really a traditional thru-hiker, but he saw the value and the aesthetic of the thru-hiker style. It鈥檚 nice to see that.鈥
McConaughy says he鈥檚 definitely looking over his shoulder right now. Another ultra-speedy hiker, Joey Campanelli, is for an Appalachian Trail FKT. Meanwhile, McConaughy is still thinking about other record attempts in his future. And he鈥檚 hopeful that he鈥檒l be back to ultrarunning a lot faster than he was after the PCT.
But first, he has to hear what that doctor has to say. 鈥淗ealing is my current number-one priority. Then we鈥檒l see what the next year has for me.鈥