Bryce 100 - My first 100 miler!

There wasn’t a whole lot of pressure, as I had no doubt that I could finish the Bryce 100, unless I had some kind of physical issue or injury.  I initially set myself a goal time of 28 hours, though in setting up a more detailed timeline, I figured 26 was pretty doable.  Given that it was my first, I would have been happy with just a finish.  I was truly out to just enjoy the experience.  I even took my phone along to take pictures and videos along the course.

I spent quite a bit of time planning out my needs for this race (even more than usual).  Going through the course map, elevation profile, and aid station chart, I planned out a range of fast to comfortable pace for the entire race.  Based on these times, I packed a drop bag for every aid station with all the supplies that I could possibly need.  The bag for the turn-a-round was just a quart sized zip-loc, but all the rest were large bags and stuffed pretty full.

Even though the forecast was for a high of 68, I knew that the high altitude sun would make it feel much warmer.  I decided to go with a hiking shirt and hat instead of my typical shirtless look.  I hoped it would keep me cooler, while also avoiding the constant application of slimy sunscreen.  Additionally, the pockets would be invaluable for storing a few small supplies, as I wouldn’t don a pack until mile 65.

I woke up a bit early, went through my pre-race routine, and hopped on the first shuttle for the 15 minute ride to the start.  While I had on warm clothes, the barrel fires at the start were quite nice and provided good congregation areas.  A few more shuttles and I saw Rachel and Katrin, the only two familiar faces at this race.  We took some pictures, chatted, and soon it was time to roll.  Both the 100 and 50 milers were starting at the same time, so there were a few hundred runners in all, but the race starts with 2 miles of dirt road, so there was a reasonable opportunity to spread out.

I chatted with Katrin as we ran together for the first 1.5 miles, but she was itching to race, I didn't have much energy and was consciously trying to take it easy, so she soon disappeared into the crowd ahead.  We were pretty well spread out once we hit the single-track, but runners were still vying for position.  As is typical, I was mostly being passed on this section.  I couldn’t tell who was running 50 or 100, but listening to the loud breathing, I knew that most were simply running way too fast.

We came to the edge of the plateau, just as the sun was rising.  The cameras came out as runners took turns pulling off to the side of the trail to record the spectacular scenery.  Some killed two birds with a single stone by taking pee breaks with a view.  In one spot, there were five guys lined up, watering the weeds, and taking in the sights.  The bright red hoodoos were just as magnificent as anything in the National Park, and we were running next to, over, and through them!  The trail was relatively smooth, and the pace was modest, which allowed our eyes to take in the full beauty.

I was quite happy letting everyone go by until we started the long downhills.  I wasn’t in any hurry, but I also didn’t want to waste energy and trash my quads slowing down more than necessary.  I zipped around a few clusters of runners, so I could run my own pace and have an unobstructed view of the trail ahead.  It seemed like no time at all before we made it down to the first aid station at Thunder Mountain, just past 10 miles.  I took a bit longer getting things out of my drop bag than I would have liked, forgetting things and having to retrieve the bag 3 times.  Then, the only minor glitch in the whole race setup happened.  The runners were still so bunched up that we had to wait in line to fill our bottles.  This cost me a whopping 30 seconds , which seemed like an eternity at the time.  I grabbed a mini-muffin from the station, along with a bag of Doritos and sunglasses from my drop bag and was soon on my way.

The next few miles wove in and out and up and down some very minor valleys, almost contouring the terrain.  One of the guys was telling everyone how he goes out nice and slow and is then able to run later on when others are barely walking.  I agreed with his approach, but the way he presented it, he came off as a rather boastful know-it-all.  As I passed, I vowed to myself that no matter what, I would not let him catch up to me.

Soon after Thunder Mountain, my stomach started deteriorating.  It was  nothing serious, but enough to annoy and distract me, forcing an unplanned side-trip into the woods before I made it to Proctor Creek, after which I felt quite a bit better and then continued to improve over the next few miles.  At Proctor, I managed my drop bag resupply much better, had no back-ups with the water, and was able to head out pretty quickly, though not before grabbing two freshly made pancakes off the table. OMG, they were still warm, and even without anything on them, were two of the best pancakes I had ever tasted.

Miss-step on a creek jump

The next section climbed just a bit and then meandered through some beautiful, aspen lined meadows.  At about mile 23, we hit a junction where the 50K’ers would turn left.  From there, we turned right and headed for a long decent, down into the valley.  On one of the sandy downhill sections, I had a misstep, landed hard on my left foot and took the impact through a twisting of my lower back.  It scared me a bit, but I kept going and never felt a thing (until a couple of days after the race, when I woke up with a seriously sore lower back).

After we started climbing back up for a bit, I passed another runner and asked the usual “how’s it going?”  Most reply “fine”, “great”, etc., but this guy was brutally honest.  “Not so good, I’m peeing blood”.  We chatted for a bit and he assured me he was feeling fine, other than that small detail.  His plan was to walk slowly up to the next aid station and drop out - smart move.

Back on top of the plateau for a bit and then, at an overlook, in addition to the beautiful pink cliffs and hoodoos, I could see the next aid station just below.  I was also able to finally get decent reception on my phone and sent out an update text to my family and friends.  At Blubber Creek, as I was re-stocking from my drop bag, I was alarmed to see Katrin sitting in a chair, having her ankle tended to.  Apparently, she had hurt it a few weeks ago, then re-twisted it a few miles back.  I felt bad, as I thought her day might be over – little did I know.  Within a couple of miles after Blubber, on a moderate climb, I turn around to see her catching up to me.  I can’t drop this girl even when she’s injured!

We actually wound up running together for the next 13+ miles.  She would pass me on the uphills (as she has the weight advantage), and I would catch up on the downhills (as she was treading lightly on her ankle).  We went through Kanab Creek together, where I dropped off one of my bottles, as the next few stations were only 5 miles apart.  We then traversed along the edge of the limestone cliffs with more stunning views before starting to descend down a loooong gravel road section towards Straight Canyon.  The descent felt good at first, but after a while, I was praying for some uphills to give my hip flexors a break.  The upper part had a long section with no markings, so I made a mental note of that for the return.  It really wasn’t an issue as the entrance onto the road was clearly marked, as was the turn at the bottom.

After what seemed like an eternity, though it was only 4 miles, we were at the bottom.  Straight Canyon was the first crew/family accessible station, so there were more people present.  Another quick re-supply stop, and Katrin and I took off together again.  A quarter mile on this road was more than enough.  The dust was incredibly fine, and I was glad there weren’t many cars at the time.  We then turned right onto some nice single-track that gently wound up through aspen groves, on the edge of a large meadow.  Though Katrin was behind me on this section, she was pushing the pace and I would soon pay the price.  We came off the single-track and made a left onto a gravel road that would take us up to Pink Cliffs and she continued on by, as I realized I needed to ease up.  We were now back out in the hot sun and Katrin’s pace and 42+ miles were taking their toll on me.  These next few miles were the low point of my race.  Not only did Katrin quickly disappear, but another runner that we had recently passed, re-passed me like I was standing still.  I tried not to get too demoralized, as I knew there was plenty of racing to go and the temperatures would soon drop.  That’s one of the big advantages of a long race – there’s plenty of time to recover.

Near the top, I was so mesmerized by the beautiful views that I stepped right over a log that was strategically placed across the path to direct runners to the left.  I went straight to the cliff edge, took some pictures and continued to the right.  After a few hundred feet of scraping my legs on the Manzanita, along a very narrow “trail”, I realized something was not right and smartly turned back.  Having lost only a few minutes, I was back on the right trail, which was very clearly marked and heading up to towards the high-point of the race at the Pink Cliffs aid station.

I took a few minutes here to get myself back in the game, taking my shoes and socks off for the first time and slathered my toes with Vaseline.  I needed some more substantial fuel, so I asked the volunteers for a ham and cheese wrap, with a touch of mustard.  Man, was that good!  I had 2 cans of club soda in my drop bag – one for each visit through the station, but I decided that I was in desperate need of liquids so I drank one and took the second with me.  I walked for a bit, even though it was a nicely runnable downhill road, eating my wrap and drinking my soda.  When I was done, I slowly started to run down towards the turn-a-round.  Part way down, with about 3 miles to go, I came across the lead runner heading back up.  I was pleasantly surprised that he only had a 6 mile lead on me.  I think that gave me a psychological boost and I started running a bit better.  Soon, the course took a left turn off the road and back onto some nice single-track.  I though this whole section was going to be a constant downhill, but the trail portion was somewhat level, with minor climbs and descents.

I continued to count returning runners to get a sense of my placement.  I eventually came across Katrin and her pacer, Allen (she was the 4^th place woman).  By the time I reached Crawford, I only counted 15.  I was in 16^th place at the half way point – much better than I would have thought.  I f I could keep things for the second half…

Unfortunately, the club soda that I had in my drop bag had been sitting out in the sun and was rather warm.  I kept pouring in cool Coke from the aid station to make it more palatable.  I also ate a bunch of potato chunks, heavily dipped in salt.  Soon, I was off.  Only 50.5 miles to go!  There was a lot of runner traffic coming down the trail and all the encouraging exchanges helped to energize me.  For the first mile or so, I would tell everyone how close they were and watch their faces brighten.

I was surprised to run more of the climb than I had thought.  Nearing Pink Cliffs, a couple of ATV’s came down the road.  They weren’t doing anything wrong, but the fine dust they kicked up was blinding and chocking.  A few runners made some nasty remarks, but we were on a road.  What do you expect?

Back at Pink Cliffs, I had no club soda waiting in my drop bag, so I downed a good bit of Ginger Ale from the aid station supplies.  The cool sweat bubbly really brought me the final steps back to life.  It was here that I saw Rachael again.  She had also twisted her ankle, but appeared to be moving well.  I later found out that she dropped at the half way point as it was nearing dark and she hadn’t planned her headlight drop at the right distance.

Heading back down the section that had nearly brought me to my knees a few hours earlier, I took my revenge, running some sub 10 minute miles.  That sounds pretty slow, but 55+ miles into a 100, it’s actually a decent pace, even for a downhill.  The temperature was finally starting to drop and there were still lots of runners heading up, which added to my renewed energy.  By the time I neared Straight Canyon again, the outbound runners had dwindled down to nothing.  I reloaded from my drop bag, drank some soda, and proceeded to take my shoes off so I could clean my feet and put on a pair of fresh socks.  I hadn’t felt any discomfort, but WOW, there was a big honking blister on the side of one of my toes!  I took a pin off my bib and popped it.  Then I slathered my toes again with some anti-friction cream I had in the bag.  I donned a headlamp and picked up a small emergency flashlight as I wasn’t completely sure I would make it back up to Kanab before dark.  I got some refreshing ice in my bottle, grabbed my customary can of club soda, and headed up the long climb.  As soon as I stepped away, I regretted the ice.  With the sun down, and my energy supplies lowered, it was downright chilly until I really got moving.

I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to run a decent portion of the climb.  I traded positions for a while with a guy who said that he had gotten lost and tacked on 6 extra miles!  I don’t know why anyone would go that far without seeing a marker, and if he had run that many miles, he would have been in contention for the lead.  Something told me he might have been exaggerating a bit.

It was on this section that I hooked up with Mark Moran from Eugene Oregon.  We would wind up running the next 20+ miles together.  He was a bit concerned about losing the trail in the darkness on some upcoming sections that seemed to be minimally marked.  As it turned out, the markings were quite adequate, but I was definitely glad to have company.

Just as darkness was settling in, we made our way into Kanab, where they had a nice big fire going.  I was quite surprised to see Katrin again as she had been a couple of miles ahead of me at the turn-a-round.  We all took a few minutes to prepare for the night.  I changed shirts and threw on a pack for the first time in the race.  As I left the aid station, Mark and Katrin were right on my heels.  They turned their lights on right away, but I chose to wait as long as I could to save batteries and allow my eyes to better transition to the darkness.  Once I did click the switch, I was pleasantly surprised at how well the small, hand-held flashlight worked.  I had only done a brief test of different lighting options a few days earlier and decided on this light even though I had always used a headlamp in the past.  I wore a headlamp as a back-up, but the flashlight gave me so much better depth perception, I think it made a huge difference in reducing eye strain and fatigue.  The only downside was that I was assuming the battery would last 1 to 1½ hours, but I wound up only getting about 45 minutes out of each.  I had enough batteries, but swapping them out every 45 minutes was a bit of a pain.  I would stretch it out as long as possible, with the light becoming almost dangerously dim, then swap batteries and feel like I was running in daylight again.

As we were running along the edge of the plateau, I saw a big red light to my right.  At first, I thought it was a fire from the next aid station, but I soon realized that it was the rising moon.  What a site!  It went from reddish orange, to orange, to the typical yellowish moon.  I was looking forward to it rising high and providing some usable light as we were less than 2 days since full, but it never did turn out to be very useful, just pretty.

Mark and I put a little distance between us and Katrin as we made our way into the Proctor aid station.  I downed another can of coke, refilled a bottle and we were quickly off.  Soon, we caught up with Gia, the 3^rd place female.  The three of us ran together for what seemed like an extra-long stretch.  The course soon dropped off of the plateau and down into a valley.  There were a couple of short, yet very steep sections here, where we caught up to and passed a couple of other runners.  We eventually hit the bottom and started the climb back up the other side.  We kept waiting for the trail junction where the 50Kers had broken off, which would also be near the top of our climb, but it seemed to take forever.  At one point, while Gia was in the front, she took a bit of a fall.  She wasn’t really hurt, but it shook her up enough that she started falling behind and we wouldn’t see her again, though she did hold on for 3^rd place.

We finally got to the trail junction shortly after dropping Gia and continued on through some of the open meadows that Mark and I had been concerned about the markings.  It turned out that the markings were even easier to spot at night and we had no problems finding our way.  We could hear voices up ahead and as we popped out of the trees, we finally saw the Proctor Creek aid station ahead – only one more to go!

There were a few other runners at the station, including the number 2 woman.  I stayed real close to the fire as I refilled a bottle and downed another can of coke.  In need of some additional sustenance, I grabbed a simple bean burrito from the volunteer and headed out, with Mark on my heels, along with another runner.  As soon as I stepped away from the fire, I began to shiver.  I was wearing shorts, a long-sleeve top, and thin pair of gloves, which felt just right when we were moving, but even a short break by the fire was enough to cool my body off instantly.  Luckily, it only took a couple of minutes of climbing to stabilize my temperature, helped along by the delicious bean burrito.

Mark had mentioned that he wanted to break 24 hours so he could get the big buckle.  He was glad when I informed him that everyone who came in under the 36 hour cut-off got the same buckle, though a bit disappointed when I told him that our chances of breaking 24 hours were pretty slim.

It was just out of Proctor that Mark started falling back, but the new runner that we had picked up stayed with me.  Milton asked politely if he could run with me.  Heck yeah.  I would have run alone if I needed to, but having company was definitely better.  We got to chatting and I found out that Milton had never run more than a 50K.  He was doing great.  He had been running with a couple of other guys, but they had slowed down significantly and I think one might have dropped at Proctor.  Milton kept complaining that his legs were tired and he wanted it to be over, but he wasn’t even breathing hard and we ran together at a decent pace, trading the lead periodically.

The next 8 miles to the Thunder Mountain aid station seemed to take forever.  There was not much climbing, more contouring, but it was relentless.  We eventually came up on the cheering volunteers and warm fire we had been looking forward to.  Again, I situated myself right next to the warm fire, refilled a bottle, got batteries, and downed another can of coke.  I took off excitedly into the darkness, thinking that there was a slight chance to break 24 hours.  Milton called after me “hey, mind if I continue to run with you?”  The more, the merrier.

Based on memory and the profile, I was expecting a solid 5 mile climb out of the aid station, but to my pleasant surprise, it started off more rolling and mostly runnable.  We eventually made it to the base of the hoodoo cliffs and started the meat of the climb, but it wasn’t nearly as long or grueling as I had anticipated.  With less than 8 miles to go, we were on top of the hoodoos and I was feeling great.  I kept a close eye on the Garmin and we still had 24 hours within reach!  Milton was pushing the pace when he was in front, but then he made a pit stop and told me to go on ahead.  I didn’t hesitate.  I took off at what seemed like a sprint, though it was probably more like a 10 minute pace, and was quickly putting some distance back to Milton’s light.  As I continued on, I saw a light up ahead.  The possibility of passing another runner at this late stage only added to my adrenaline.

I caught up to the light faster than anticipated and quickly realized why.  It was Leslie, the 1^st place female, curled up by the side of the trail.  She was not feeling good and asked for my help.  I knew this would cost me the 24 hour mark, and probably a placement or two, but I had absolutely no doubt about what my responsibility was.  I would be ashamed to cross the finish line, leaving behind a runner in need.  Leslie said she wasn’t able to keep anything down and had been struggling since mile 70.  She felt dizzy and was scared of the steep, loose slopes, so I gave her a caffeine pill and my arm.  We walked together for a while and within a few minutes, Milton caught up and joined the parade.  Leslie was lucid and coherent and soon was able to walk on her own between me and Milton.  A few more minutes passed and we had made our way out of the “dangerous” parts of the trail.  Leslie seemed to be doing better and insisted that Milton and I continue on our own, feeling bad that she had collapsed so harshly after running such a great race.  This was her first hundred and she was still concerned with her placement, asking me questions about the three women behind her.  She asked me to notify her husband, who was waiting at the start and I took off.

I had been feeling good before I came across Leslie, and now I had just had a 15 minute rest, so I took off like a bat out of hell.  Looking at the Garmin, I still had a shot at the 24 hour mark, and if I could pull this off after stopping to help her, it would be an even sweater accomplishment.  It felt like I was flying, though I was only managing 10 to 12 minute miles on the undulating terrain.  I had to make one more battery change and then a quick pit stop in the woods, but the closer I got, the surer I was that I would make it.  I finally hit the dirt road – only 2 more miles and the sky was just brightening up.  I had plenty of time but was so elated, I sprinted the final miles at a 9 and 8 minute pace!

I crossed the finish line and headed straight for the fire to avoid a sudden drop in body temperature.  I found Leslie’s husband and told him that she was struggling, but wasn’t in any danger.  One of the volunteers got my finish-line bag and I quickly put on warm clothes.  I then went over to the timing table and inquired about my placement.  I knew I was top 20, possibly top 10, but I wasn’t sure.  5^th place!  Unbelievable!

Ultra Signup had my finish time estimated at just over 26 hours and in 26^th place.  Finishing my first 100 in under 24 hours and in 5^th place was pretty darn sweet.  Most important of all, once I slowly recovered after the first climb up to Pink Cliffs, I kept getting stronger, felt great, and was able to run well all the way to the finish.  Sure, I was tired and glad to stop running, but I felt awesome.

Within a few minutes, I took a van back to my hotel.  Since it was only a bit after 6, I tried to enter the room quietly, but was thwarted by the security chain that my wife had engaged on the door.  I had to knock and wake her up to let me in.  After a quick kiss and congratulations, she crawled back into bed as I consumed a couple of granola bars and jumped into the shower.  I forced myself to stay up all day on Sunday so that I wouldn’t totally screw up my internal clock.  It was difficult keeping my eyes open at times, but I managed and finally went to sleep around 7 PM.

Ultra Adventures put on a totally awesome race.  I’m sure parts of my feelings are due to the fact that I had an awesome race, but still…  Other than the insignificant issue of having to wait 30 seconds to fill my bottle at the first aid station, everything else was run like a well-oiled machine.  The volunteers were magnificent.  At most stations, I had a personal valet helping me with my drop bag, getting water, etc.  The course was very well marked and the venue is simply unbeatable.  No matter how miserable you may be feeling and how much you may be suffering, all you have to do is look up at the glorious scenery and you can’t help but smile in awe.  I started planning next year’s return before we even left.

Garmin link 

Jemez Mountain Trail Run

The whole family went along for the Jemez Mountain Trail Run, making a long Memorial Day trip out of it to Los Alamos and Santa Fe.  We arrived at packet pick-up/dinner just as the second race briefing was getting started, and it appeared that the information was the same as on the website.  There weren’t too many runners about and I didn’t see a single familiar face.

I kept checking the weather up until late Friday night and it seemed pretty certain that we’d be getting wet at some point.  The forecast was for mid to upper 50’s and a 30-50% chance of precipitation during the entire day – seemed like pretty typical spring/summer weather in the mountains, except that the chance of precipitation ran all through the night and morning.  With that in mind, I threw my $0.99 poncho into the rear pocket of my shorts and also decided to throw a long-sleeve shirt into my main drop bag.

photo by David Silva

I didn’t want to wake the whole family for the 5:00 AM start, so I hitched a ride with Rachel StClaire and Katrin and David Silva.  We got there in plenty of time and hung around for a while, waiting for the start.  The temperature was in the low 50’s as the cloud cover had kept things moderate and I could feel the high humidity, but no precipitation.  I looked around for Anton Krupicka at the start, but never caught a glimpse.  I knew I would have no chance to see him after we started.  I can’t even sprint as fast as this guy runs ultras.

photo by David Silva

For some reason, I decided to keep my long-sleeve shirt on at the start, which turned out to be a bit of an annoyance as I quickly began to sweat, even at a moderate pace.  I stayed with Katrin for the first couple of miles, but then dropped back as I wanted to save myself for the big climbs.  There were lots of other runners around at this point, though everyone seemed more serious and quiet than at most other races.  Then, a few of miles in, I developed a nose bleed.  I wasn’t too worried about it, but the blood certainly stood out on my white gloves.  I just hoped it wasn’t smeared all over my face.  It was too early for any unearned pity.

With the 5:00 AM start, we all used headlamps in the darkness.  At the first aid station, I tossed mine off, along with my shirt.  It was mild enough that I wasn’t worried about the potential rain.  I then settled into a good, comfortable pace, as runners around me traded positions back and forth.  By mile 7 I started to slowly, yet consistently pass other runners.  It was a bit early into a 50 miler, but I wasn’t chasing anyone down, they were just starting to pay the price for opening out too fast.  As we kept steadily climbing, the runners got more and more stretched out.  Nearing the base of Pajarito, no one else was in sight, but as the climb started, I could see other runners off in the distance.  Feeling good, I continued to slowly reel them in and no one was passing me!  That is, until just after 3 hours in, I heard some heavy breathing closing in behind me.  How could this be?  As he flew by, I realized that this was a 50K runner, and a fast one at that, since he had started 1 hour later.  Further up the climb, one more 50Ker zipped by.

The climb consisted of a nice single-track trail with a number of switch-backs to ease the grade.  I consciously tried to stay on my own pace, yet was able to run quite a bit.  The sun burned off the last of the morning clouds and the moisture off the surrounding lush vegetation, making the air downright humid.  Nearing the top, I saw Katrin up ahead.  This was even better motivation than all the other runners I had passed.  I stayed on pace, and finally caught up to her right before the summit.  She quickly deflated my ego as she informed me that she was having some issues with her quad.  And here I thought that maybe I was finally becoming a faster runner than her.

A few of us were running together now as we headed down the steep ski slopes, while trying not to completely trash our quads so early in the race.  We eventually turned off into the woods along the slopes and onto some nice single-track.  These trails are be used by mountain bikers, and at one point, we came upon a wooden ramp going up and over a downed tree.  The runner in front went up the ramp, took one step on the down ramp and instantly landed on his side.  Katrin and I were smart enough to avoid the ramp and stopped to check on the fallen runner.  I thought he had dislocated his shoulder but he quickly got up, was able to move it freely, and was running again within a couple of seconds.

We made our way down to the Ski Lodge AS where our numbers were yelled ahead by spotters so that other helpful volunteers could pull our drop bags for us.  Awesome service!  I downed a can of cola and refilled my bottles as my volunteer valet sprayed me down with sunscreen.  I felt like I got out of there pretty fast, but Katrin is always quicker through the stations and I lost her again.

From Ski Lodge, we ran down a bit on service roads and then started climbing again.  Once we got back onto single track and an open field, I could see Katrin up ahead with a few minutes lead.  I ran right past the Pipeline AS, as it was so close to Ski Lodge and made the left turn towards the caldera.  The first few hundred feet were extremely steep and loose.  I was basically doing kick-turns, skiing down, more than running.  One gal had stopped completely and was watching a couple of us maneuvering down, trying to figure out the safest route.  There was none.  I was probably one of the lucky few who didn’t end up on my butt.

Once down this section, I finally caught back up to Katrin and we ran together for a while along the gravel road through the caldera.  At 9 min/mile, it felt like she was pushing the pace, and almost dropped me.  I actually made it through the AS faster than Katrin for once and had the luxury of cruising for a few hundred yards to let her catch up.

Enjoying the panoramic views (much like the poster we got with our packets), we almost missed the left turn off the road and onto a narrow trail through the grasses.  The trail soon petered out as we started ascending up towards the saddle and the second big climb of the day.  The climb was straight up the slope, off trail, but well flagged.  Walking was a welcomed relief after Katrin’s “sprint” across the caldera.  I was feeling strong, passed a couple of runners and even started to pull away from Katrin, whose quad was giving her issues on the climbs.

As I crested the top of the saddle, I closed in on another runner, Erin Phelps.  Since I was making ground on her climbing, and consider myself a good downhiller, I figured it wouldn’t take long for me to pass her by.  Boy was I wrong.  She was flying on the downhill at a sub 9 min pace (that’s pretty fast after having just run a marathon with two major climbs).  As the single-track trail wound its way down through valley, the cool shade of the trees opened up to hot sun.  Fatigue, heat, and a cautious effort slowed me down a bit on the small climbs and I lost sight of Erin for a while.  I caught her at the Pajarito AS and after a quick re-supply, we took off together.  I stayed within sight of her for a couple of miles as we climbed another valley, above a small, flowing brook.  There were a couple of rock climbers playing on some large boulders down below, and they gazed up at us passing runners with a look of combined disbelief and pity.

I just couldn’t match Erin’s pace on this climb and soon she disappeared in the distance.  As I hit the trail junction and started the climb up Pajarito for the second time, the skies clouded over.  What a welcomed relief.  Even with the relatively cool temperatures, the sun made it feel way too warm for my liking.  I was looking forward to the invigorating coolness, but soon enough, I could hear rumbling in the distance.  As I climbed out of the valley and into the burn zone, the views opened up and I could see that the darkest clouds were down to the south, but having spent enough time in the mountains, I was well aware that I couldn’t see past the ridgeline to the north.  I wasn’t at all concerned.  This was pretty much right on the money with the forecast.  I figured that even if a storm cell came over me, there were enough standing dead trees not to worry too much about getting struck by lightning, and once I hit the top, I would be speeding my way down to the finish.

It was a somewhat lonely climb up Pajarito this time, as Erin had long dropped me and there were no other runners around.  I was moving a bit slower than the first time up, but still not too bad.  I could feel intermittent drops of rain and within about a mile of the top, they started coming down consistently.  At this time, I also passed my first 50K runner, giving me a bit of a boost, both from passing and from seeing another person.  At half mile from the top, I hooked up with another 50 mile runner, right as the precipitation turned briefly to hail, and then to snow.  I kept debating on whether I should pull out the emergency $0.99 poncho, or just man up and push through.  Once over the top, it would be an easy 15 mile sprint to the finish.  But I also knew that if I got too cold and wet, it would be very difficult to reverse.  When we got up to the first part of the ski area, I finally gave in and tore out the poncho.  With only a mild wind at this time, I quickly realized that you get what you pay for.  Even once I was able to peel it apart and find the openings, my cheap poncho was difficult to manage.  As with all ponchos, the body was way too big, flopping and blowing around quite a bit, and the hood was not exactly a tailored fit either.  It would either slip down over my face so that I couldn’t see beyond my own feet, or blow back to where my head was exposed.  The wet snow falling on my head was refreshing, until it dissolved all the accumulated salt and started dripping into my eyes – ouch!  Every couple of minutes, I had to stop and wipe my stinging eyes.

The flakes were getting bigger and more consistent as we made it past the bench at the top.  We were over the top!  I was ready for some speed now.  But, as usual, I got a harsh reality check.  I passed a couple of more 50Kers on the short service-road section down before we got onto the double black diamond slopes.  Guess what happens when a steep, grass covered ski slope gets a dusting of wet snow on it.  It’s a miracle that I stayed upright.  I could see runners below me, gingerly taking one small step at a time.  I was doing a combination of skiing and running with micro-steps, though at a much slower pace than the first descent.  And once I got into the trees, there were slick tree roots to watch for, all while trying to manage my stupid poncho.

I finally made it down to the Ski Lodge AS.  I threw back my hood and reveled in the cheers from the volunteers.  I think most were surprised to see a shirtless runner under a clear poncho having such a good time in the muck.  As I got on the deck and asked for my drop bag, Brenda and the girls appeared out of the lodge.  What an awesome surprise!  I hadn’t expected them to meet me anywhere on the course, but I had left my marked-up map in the hotel room, with my estimated times on it and she took matters into her own hands and came up.  It was a huge motivational lift, though I couldn’t spend much time with them.  I was still in race mode, and I also knew that every second of not running was dropping my body temperature.

Brenda helped get stuff out of my drop bag, filled my bottle, and even offered me the clothes and hat that she was wearing, but I declined.  I did, after some quick deliberation, decide to throw on a long sleeve running shirt that I had in the drop bag.  I hesitated because I honestly thought things were going to get steadily better.  There was not as much snow at the lodge as there was up on top, and though I knew there was a little climbing to the Pipeline AS, I didn’t remember it being very much.  I figured I would be quickly descending out of the cold snow, through a bit of drizzle, and on to the finish.  14 miles seemed like such a short sprint.  I was even thinking I could do it in under 2 hours and come close to my 10:30 goal.

I downed a full can of cola and said a quick goodbye to Brenda and the girls.  I carefully made my way across the wooden deck, which was now becoming quite slick, and plopped down onto the muddy service road.  My shoes were already wet, but they now got thoroughly soaked.  I was keeping a decent pace, as I tend to run faster in the cold, and was additionally spurred on by the threat of hypothermia.

The snow was not letting up as I had hoped.  It was actually coming down much heavier and the wind was now blowing harder.  I had a choice of running through the couple of inches of slushy water in the narrow trail, or the wet snow on the grassy sides.  I did a bit of both, and though I could feel my feet sloshing around in my shoes, they didn’t get cold.  I wish that I could say the same for my hands.  I had on my $0.99 disposable, cotton gloves, which are perfect for those brisk, early morning starts.  They are definitely not suited to long periods of, cold, wet running, especially for someone with poor hand circulation like me.  I kept the hands tucked in under the poncho, but that wasn’t enough to keep them warm or dry.  I tried to tuck the bottles under my armpits so that I could warm my hands a bit, but somehow, my arms were getting wetter and colder.  By the time I figured out that one of the bottle tops was not screwed on properly, any remaining dry portions of my shirt were long gone.  On the open-field climb up towards Pipeline, the snow was building up and the wind getting worse.  It was now a full on blizzard.  As I passed a runner in a tee shirt, with no gloves, I could offer nothing but encouraging words.  At least he looked young and tough.  Norman was 29 and passed me later on, beating me by 12 minutes.

I ran right past the Pipeline AS, without even stopping and the volunteers yelled after me to get my bib number.  As I ran on up the hill, I saw Erin again, leaving the AS with a cup in her hand.  It gave me a bit of a boost to know that I had caught up to her, but as we trudged up the road, the weather kept deteriorating – more snow and more cold wind.  I kept fumbling with my bottles and poncho and eventually Erin passed me.  We were periodically passing 50K runners, but they were much slower and I didn’t want to be out there all alone in those conditions, so I pushed myself to keep close to Erin.  Once we topped out and started contouring the ridge, she really picked up the pace.  It felt like we were flying, though looking at the splits on my Garmin, we were only running 10 to 12 minute miles.  I was keenly aware that in these conditions, a simple slip on the slick trail, or a missed turn would have spelled disaster.  I was literally running for my life!

My stupid poncho was really a chore to manage in the wind and though it probably saved my race (and my life), it also cost me at least 15 minutes and lots of frustration.  I stayed on Erin’s tail until we passed the next aid station.  The volunteers were huddled in a tent and I only made a quick stop to ask them to fix one of my bottles.  The bottom strap had slipped off and I had been gripping it with my frozen hands for the last few miles.  By this point, the wind was dying down, the snow had changed over to drizzle, and the temperature was slowly climbing.  The weather was finally improving!  Unfortunately, I had not eaten anything for quite a while and had drunk very little.  With the adrenaline easing back, so was my pace and just as Erin was disappearing into the distance, Norman, the young, gloveless runner that I had previous passed came flying by.  He had survived and recovered marvelously and it was now his turn to throw some encouraging words my way.

At this point, I was able to finally take off the aggravating poncho, yet started to feel an unpleasant stinging on my chest.  That wet shirt, which kept me from getting hypothermic for the past couple of hours, had done a number on my nipples – ouch!  Just what I needed.  These last 5 miles were tough for me.  Though the weather was now perfect and the course mostly downhill, I was working hard, running slow, and couldn’t wait to cross the line.  The scenery was stunning and even though this section of the trail was slick with sloppy clay mud, being able to look around made it enjoyable.  The mountains behind were now out of the clouds and covered in white.  The steep walls of the surrounding valleys were highlighted by rays of sunlight.  Absolutely beautiful!

Based on comments from previous AS volunteers, I was expecting the course to be a bit long.  What a pleasant and unexpected surprise when I came up on a sign that read “1 mile to go!”  What a cruel joke!  The sign was apparently referring to the Last Chance AS, not the coveted finish line.  I hope the comment I made to the volunteers about false advertising came across with the intended humor.  They certainly redeemed themselves with the hash browns and chunks of burrito they offered me.  They also told me that the race had been shut down due to the weather and I was the last 50 miler.  That was somewhat a relief as I had been worried about friends and other runners further back.  Conditions were downright dangerous.

I threw my shirt, poncho and gloves into the trash and headed down the trail towards the finish.  I passed a few more 50Kers and came to the final climb – a couple of hundred feet up a steep, narrow, 3’ deep swale that had been worn into the rocks.  I popped out onto the road and mustered up enough energy to run through the finish chute.

I stumbled into the Posse Shack at the finish so I could grab a shirt before my body totally shut down and started to shiver.  I found David and Katrin Silva and Rachel StClaire sitting around, exchanging stories of the crazy day.  David had run the 50K and took every opportunity to happily rub in the fact that he and I were the only two of the group to actually finish the race as Katrin and Rachel been pulled off the course.  I was quite thrilled with my first ever DFL (dead f’n last).  For the 50 miler (53.25 miles by my Garmin), 210 had registered, 174 toed the start line, and I was the 20^th (and last) to cross the finish line, despite being ranked 66^th by Ultra Signup.  What an adventure!

Garmin file 

Collegiate Peaks Trail Run - 50M

I had originally planned on staying the night in Buena Vista and making this race into another family trip, but due to a number of circumstances, including the fact that local hotels were outrageously priced, that did not work out.  So instead, I set the alarm for 3:00 AM, to give myself adequate time for the drive over from Manitou SPring to the start of the Collegiate Peaks Trail Run.  I wound up waking up at 2:30, and after 15 minutes of tossing and turning, decided to just get up and go, on 4 hours of sleep.

The drive was uneventful.  I listened to an audio book of The Google Story, while enjoying my breakfast – buttered blueberry bagel, 12 oz. of club soda mixed with 4 oz. of OJ, and about 10 oz. of a chocolate Silk and chia seed slurry.

The early departure and quick drive made for an early arrival.  It was nice that all the pre-race activities were housed in the community center – much better than hanging out in the car for an hour+.  I was able to go through my pre-race ritual in comfort and use indoor plumbing instead of a port-o-potty.  Not wanting to stroll around topless, I also used the men’s room to apply a liberal coating of sunscreen.  As I was doing so, one of the guys waiting in line for the facilities jokingly asked “Hey, you want me to rub some lotion on your back?”  “Thanks, but I’d rather get skin cancer” was my reply, and we all had a good laugh.

Outside, I ran into a few familiar faces before the start.  Christy McLaughlin and Sean Wetstine spotted me.  I looked around for Rachel StClaire as she had posted a picture from the start the previous night, but didn’t see her anywhere.  After the race, I saw her Facebook post, noting that she had thought she registered for the race, but had actually not, so she left and did a training run on her own.

I wasn’t paying close attention while milling about the start, and before I knew it, a voice was counting down – 5, 4, 3…  I barely had time to pull off my shirt and push the start button on the Garmin.  Additionally, I found myself right near the front, where I had no intention of being on a race of this length and a field of this size.  We crossed the road and made our way through the parking lot, where I tossed my shirt on top of my car.  With temps starting out in the upper 30’s, the air was chilly and refreshing so I kept my gloves on till the second aid station.  Over the first few hundred yards, lots of runners went zipping by.  Even over the first few miles, more runners raced by, panting.  I kept thinking to myself “if I can hear your breathing a mile into a 25 or 50 mile race, you’re working too hard”.  I wasn’t foolish enough to give unsolicited advice, but seriously…

It’s tough watching runners pass, even early on in a long race.  There’s always a level of self-doubt.  Should I be going out faster while the legs are fresh and the temps are low?  This time, in addition to 165 races of experience, I also had physical issues to hold me back.  I was concerned about my stiff knees after hammering the downhills on the previous week’s 50K.  My calves were a bit sore having done some training miles in my Vibram 5-Fingers, and running some hard, fast sprints as recently as Thursday.  And my Achilles had also been feeling a bit tight.  All of these held me back to what turned out to be a smart pace early on.  It wasn’t until the 6^th mile that I started to slowly pass people and other than a few that I traded positions with for a while, no one passed me.

The mileage was pretty much spot on at all the aid stations.  I like the accuracy and predictability.  We went through a few short sections of soft sand, but most of the course was nice and firm.  Somewhere around 6.7 miles, a creek crossed over the road.  Most of us tried to gingerly walk over some branches to keep our feet dry, but that didn’t work very well - one foot was partly wet, and the other completely.  They dried off quickly enough and I looked forward to the cool water on the return trip when the temperature would be higher.

There are two main climbs on each loop, but in between, there are lots of small, sometimes steep, ups and downs.  This keeps things interesting, but makes it hard to get into a really good rhythm for long.  Approaching the final peak of the first lap, at mile 18, I was feeling pretty fresh and continuing to slowly pass other runners.  I caught up to Christy and we chatted for a few minutes  Once we topped out, I tried to relax into what I knew was going to be a fast, yet pleasant 7 mile downhill back to Buena Vista and the half-way point.

A short way down, I came up on JT, from Colorado Springs.  We talked for a while about last weekend’s CMTR, and his upcoming Leadman, but after a mile and a half or so, I pulled back a bit, as he was pushing too fast and I knew we weren’t even half done yet.  My decision was definitely correct.  I wound up passing JT for good a short time later, and after the turn-a-round, he told me he was dropping out.

The top part of the decent had been a bit steep and fast, but the bottom part followed the old Midland railroad grade and was perfect for dropping my average pace, without killing the quads or destroying my knees.  I wound up running for a couple of miles with Andy, who was a Leadville 100 regular and as we got close to town, a gal caught up to us.  It turned out to be Christy.  She recovered well after the climb and was making up time on the decent.  I told her she had a shot at her 4:15 goal, and she was pretty close, missing it by just over a minute.

We made it down to the bottom, ran across a pedestrian bridge over the Arkansas, and made our way through the parking lot towards the turn-a-round.  I stopped at my car, swapped out the hand-held bottle for a fresh one, swallowed another Aleve, and gulped down a can of Coke.  I made it through the turn-a-round 3 minutes behind my self-imposed schedule – not bad!  Negative splits would put me right back on goal.

I was feeling pretty good about my time, but knew that climbing back up 7 miles would slow things down, especially now that the sun was out in full force.  The climb wasn’t as bad as I had anticipated, though.  The railroad grade actually allowed for a somewhat reasonable pace without over taxing me.  I was passing other 50 mile runners, who had clearly gone out too fast – payback!  The bottom half was also nice and social, as there were still plenty of runners headed down.  I exchanged a quick “great job” or “nice work” with each of them, but after a while, it got pretty lonely out there.  I ran the rest of the way back by myself – passing a runner every couple of miles, but never running with anyone.  This made the minutes tick by a bit slow, but at least I was able to run my own pace.

All told, I passed 10 runners on the return trip (yes, I was counting), including Sean - that made me feel pretty good.  Despite the fatigue of all those miles and the strong sun, I was still able to throw down some pretty respectable splits for the last 3 miles (8:24, 8:29, 8:08).  I crossed the line in 8:44:05, 14 minutes past my arbitrary goal time, but I felt that it was a good race, none the less.  Top 10 finish.  My knees, calves and Achilles all held up.  And though I didn’t manage to run negative splits, I was pretty darn close, running the second half only 8 minutes slower than the first.  Hopefully this is a sign of continuing maturity on my part, and not just a one-time fluke.

I kept myself pretty well hydrated throughout, evidenced by the fact that after the race, I was able to squat down to stretch and get back up without any light-headedness at all.  Nutrition-wise, I ate 1 peanut butter pack, 2 Honey Stinger Wafers, more than a dozen cookies from the aid stations, along with handfuls of chips and pretzels, and quite a few cups of Coke.  Though I carried a couple of gels with me the whole time, I only used one, about 4 miles from the end.  I swallowed about a dozen S-Caps throughout the day and used a single bottle at a time, filled with Shaklee Performance, and some lemon juice to cut the sweetness.  Along the way, I just topped off with water, which seemed to work well.  Unfortunately, at the last aid station, the volunteer apparently poured Heed instead of water into my bottle.  Even diluted, it was an unpleasant surprise.

I made a very wise move and bought a bag of ice before settling in for the 2 hour drive back home.  I put some in the cooler and split the rest into 2 bags, each strapped to a knee with a long-sleeve shirt.  I kept these ice packs on for over an hour and they made a huge difference.  The next day, I felt almost no discomfort at all in my knees.

The race was well managed and run.  The volunteers, as usual, were wonderful and supportive.  The only slight disappointment was that they didn’t have results at the finish and took 4 days to post them online.  I know, most people wouldn’t get hung up on something like this, but that’s the overly competitive, obsessive, impatient side of me.

The course was absolutely magnificent.  Most of it was on 4-wheel drive roads in the hills, east of Buena Vista.  Constant views to the snow-capped 14’ers of the Collegiate Peaks were stunning and the non-technical terrain allowed for lots of gawking, without the fear of a face-plant.  I would definitely run this race again and recommend it to anyone who wants a scenic 25 or 50 mile challenge.  The overall distance and the splits are quite accurate and there’s a gain/loss of almost 3,000’ per loop.