You run. You sweat. Then, suddenly, you finish before you even started.
It sounds like a cheap sci-fi plot or a glitch in the Matrix, but for runners who descend on Bentonville, Arkansas every November, the time travel half marathon—officially known as the Fall Back Five Series—is a very real, very sweaty reality. The premise is honestly pretty simple, yet it manages to break everyone’s brain once they actually get on the starting line. By timing the race to coincide exactly with the 2:00 AM daylight saving time shift, participants "gain" an hour while they’re out on the course.
If you’ve ever wanted to see a race result that says you finished thirteen miles in negative twenty minutes, this is your chance. It’s weird. It’s dark. It’s usually freezing. And it’s arguably the only race on the planet where your chip time and the wall clock have absolutely zero relationship with each other.
The Logistics of Running Backward Through Time
Most people think of race directors as organized, slightly Type-A individuals who love spreadsheets and safety vests. But to pull off a time travel half marathon, you need to be part logistical genius and part mad scientist. The race traditionally kicks off around 1:50 AM. You run for ten minutes, the clock hits 2:00 AM, and then—poof—the clocks reset to 1:00 AM.
You’re still running. Your legs still hurt. But according to the universe, you haven't even started yet.
It’s a bizarre psychological hurdle. Usually, when you’re five miles into a half marathon, you’re looking at your watch to see how much longer you have to suffer. In this race, your watch might tell you it’s 1:30 AM, even though you’ve been running for forty minutes. It’s easy to get disoriented in the Ozark woods at that hour. The course in Bentonville utilizes the Slaughter Pen trail system, which is world-class for mountain biking but gets plenty spooky under a headlamp in the middle of the night.
The physical toll is different too. Most half marathons are morning affairs where you’ve had a bagel and a coffee. For this one, you’re essentially pulling an all-nighter. Your body wants to be in REM sleep, but instead, you’re dodging tree roots and trying to maintain a 9-minute pace. Honestly, the caffeine strategy alone is a nightmare to figure out. Do you drink the espresso at midnight? 1:00 AM? If you go too early, you’re crashing by mile nine.
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Why Arkansas Became the Epicenter of This Madness
You might wonder why Bentonville? Why not New York or London?
Bentonville has transformed itself into a massive outdoor recreation hub, largely thanks to the Walton Family Foundation’s investment in trails. They have the infrastructure to support weird, niche events. The "Fall Back Five" (which includes a 5-miler and the half marathon) was born out of a desire to do something that wasn't just another suburban road race with a lukewarm Gatorade at the finish line.
Participants aren't just local runners either. People fly in from all over the country just to get that specific "negative time" finisher's certificate. It’s a bucket-list item for the "50 States" marathon crowd and the "Half Fanatics" who live for quirky medals. The medals often feature clocks or Delorean-esque imagery, leaning hard into the Back to the Future vibes.
There’s a certain camaraderie that happens at 2:00 AM in the woods. You’re all part of this weird collective hallucination. When the time jumps back, the volunteers at the water stations usually make a big deal of it, cheering that "it’s now an hour earlier than it was two minutes ago!" It’s the kind of dad joke that actually lands when you’re oxygen-deprived and running in the dark.
The "Negative Finish" and the Results Headache
Let’s talk about the results page, because it’s a mess in the best way possible.
If you finish a time travel half marathon in one hour and forty-five minutes, but the clock jumped back sixty minutes during your run, your "clock time" at the finish line is 45 minutes. For a split second, you look like a world-record holder. Of course, the timing chips (the little electronic tags on your bib) track your "elapsed time," which is your actual physical effort.
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The confusion usually happens at the finish line. Spectators who aren't familiar with the Daylight Saving gimmick get very confused when runners start crossing the line at what looks like 1:40 AM after starting at 1:50 AM.
Common Misconceptions About the Race:
- It’s an easy PR: Not really. While the clock says you finished fast, your body knows the truth. Plus, running at 2:00 AM is rarely when humans perform their best.
- The course is shorter: Nope. It’s a USATF-certified 13.1 miles. No shortcuts through the space-time continuum are allowed.
- It’s just a gimmick: While the timing is a hook, the trails in Northwest Arkansas are legitimately challenging. You’re dealing with elevation changes and technical footing that would be tough in broad daylight.
Strategy for the Mid-Race Time Jump
If you’re actually going to do this, you can't treat it like a normal 8:00 AM Turkey Trot. Your circadian rhythm is going to be screaming at you.
First off, lighting. Don't rely on the "ambient light" of the moon. You need a high-lumen headlamp or a waist light. Because the race happens in November, the leaves are often down, covering rocks and roots. If your light dies at 1:30 AM (the second 1:30 AM, that is), you’re in trouble.
Secondly, the "Double 1:00 AM" phenomenon. There is a psychological wall that hits when you realize you’ve been running for a long time but the hour hasn't changed. In a normal race, you mark progress by time. Here, time is a liar. You have to rely entirely on your GPS watch’s mileage tracker. Focus on the 13.1, not the 2:00 AM reset.
Finally, the weather in the Ozarks in November is wildly unpredictable. One year it might be a crisp 45 degrees; the next, it could be a literal ice storm. Since you’re running in the dead of night, the temperature will likely drop as the race progresses, which is the opposite of what happens during a morning race. Layering is non-negotiable.
Is It Worth the Hype?
Honestly? Yeah.
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Most road races feel identical after a while. You get the same tech-fabric shirt, the same banana at the end, and the same generic medal. The time travel half marathon offers something that is increasingly rare in the running world: a genuine story.
It’s not just about the fitness. It’s about the absurdity of it. You’re paying money to run through the woods in the middle of the night to exploit a quirk in how we measure time. There is something deeply human and slightly insane about that.
The community of people who show up for this is also top-tier. You’ll see people dressed as Doc Brown, runners with glowing LED tutus, and serious trail runners who just want to see if they can break their PR while the world is asleep. It’s a celebration of the "weird" side of endurance sports.
Actionable Steps for Future Time Travelers
If you're looking to tackle a race like this, don't just show up and hope for the best.
- Check the Date: These races are strictly tied to the end of Daylight Saving Time. In the U.S., that’s the first Sunday in November.
- Night Training: Start doing at least one run a week at 9:00 PM or later. Get your eyes used to following a pool of light from a headlamp. It’s a different skill than running in daylight—your depth perception changes.
- Nap Strategy: Treat race day like a night shift. Sleep in as late as possible on Saturday. Take a solid 2-hour nap in the late afternoon.
- Gear Check: Ensure your headlamp has fresh batteries or a full charge. Cold weather drains lithium batteries faster than you’d think.
- Book Early: Bentonville is a small city that hosts big events (like the Walmart shareholders meeting and major cycling races). Hotels fill up fast, even for a 2:00 AM race.
Go register for the next cycle. Even if you hate the cold and the dark, you’ll have a race result that technically proves you can run faster than the speed of light. Or at least faster than the clock.
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