Capitol Reef 100

After a night of intermittently heavy rains, the race started under mostly cloudy skies.  I had some trepidations, as my first rain jacket was safely packed away in the drop bag at mile 19.

The small group of 29 started up the driveway, across the road, and onto a dirt road towards the foot of the mesa.  Right off the bat, Travis jumped to the front.  I assume he was trying to bank some distance in his futile attempt to beat me - so immature.

All the recent moisture made for some thick, gooey, clay mud in spots - great for kids to play in, not so great for starting a 100 mile race in.  The scenery was magnificent right from the beginning. The low clouds/fog slowly broke up, providing spectacular views of the sandstone cliffs, illuminated by the rising sun.  Hopefully you can imagine the beauty from my descriptive words since the #$%^&*ing camera @#$%^&ing died as soon as I turned it on.  I actually wound up tossing it into the bin of snacks at the self-serve aid at mile 2 and retrieving it on the way down the next morning.

We were starting to spread out a bit, but most runners (except for that punk, Travis) took a measured approach to the long climb.  The higher we ascended, the more the views opened up to the green valley below, framed by red sandstone walls.  The whole section up to Government Creek was a pretty mellow climb on a gravel/sandy jeep road and I made a mental note of how awesome it was going to be running back down at the end.

Government Creek Aid was a quick stop to refill water and grab a snack, and also the start of the mosquito zone.  Not a single one before the aid station, and then swarms thereafter.  Unfortunately, the terrain got a bit steeper also, meaning slower progress, which translated to better feeding for the flying parasites.  Shortly after the aid station, I found myself running alone, pretty much all the way to Donkey Reservoir.  This was a relatively low point for me.  The mosquitos were having a field day with my shirtless upper body, the terrain was rolling, with some steep little dips and climbs, the trail was overgrown with baby aspens so that you couldn’t even see your feet as they got mired in more gooey mud.  And on top of all of that, my Fenix 2 decided that there were no satellites to be found, at 9,000’, near the top of a mesa (I’ll write a separate review of this piece of Garmin crap later).

This section transitioned from rough ATV trail to single track and we ran through a good sized burn area where the ground cover (small aspens, and other shrubbery) were just so incredibly thick.  With the recent moisture clinging to the leaves and softening/slicking the trail, it really felt like a rain forest.  Despite all of the climbing up to this point, there were intermittent views of the real top of the mesa - a reminder of us just how much higher we were going.  As with the whole course, the terrain was incredibly diverse.  There were sections of trail that reminded me of the northeast, with slick granite boulders interspersed among the pine forest.  There were also some open meadows, with hidden boggy areas to moisten the feet in preparation for the tenderizing pounding that was to turn them into hamburger meat.  Some parts of the trail were literally covered with strawberry plants.  I didn’t see any actual berries, but the density of the red stems gave the trail a pinkish hue.

Donkey Reservoir was the first drop bag aid station, so I reloaded on snacks and drink mix, downed my usual can of club soda, stuffed a bag of Doritos into my shorts and headed on down a 4-wheel drive road.  The nice downhill was so pleasant to roll down, that I soon found myself at an unmarked intersection.  After looking around for a bit, I kicked myself for the stupidity and headed back up the hill for more than a quarter mile where I had missed a reasonably marked turn - 15 minutes down the drain.

Shortly after getting back on course, I heard voices up ahead.  Runners that I had passed a while back were now up in front.  I caught up to them shortly and three of us (me, Anthony Fetter, and Jeremy McDonough) settled into a nice pace and friendly conversation, which soon turned into vile cursing as we realized that we hadn’t seen a marker in a while.  Of course, it was on a nice downhill section, so we turned around and headed back up the trail to the pretty well marked turn that we had missed.  Anthony actually ran up ahead of me and Jeremy and wound up going the wrong way for a bit - poor guy, he did that so many times throughout the race, yet still came in 5th.

A few of us wound up heading out of Chokecherry Aid together, including a guy running in minimalist sandals.  After a bit, the real climbing started up to the top of the mesa.  I was amazed at how Colorado-like it was in this section.  We went up a steep, narrow valley, with sheer granite walls and a stream cascading down the middle.  It really felt like I was nearing treeline in the Rockies, including countless white Columbine scattered everywhere amongst the granite boulders.  By the time I topped out, I caught back up to Anthony and we wound up running together for quite a bit.  He took off out of Chokecherry before me, but with some gentle downhills through the meadows, I was able catch back up.

The two of us went into Pleasant Lake Aid together and I was a bit surprised to see Travis’s dad’s motorcycle there.  Sure enough, Travis had just left a minute before we got in and I could still see him in the distance.  He was in 4th, and I could tell he was tiring from the fast start.  Smelling blood, I was in and out of the aid station pretty quickly, figuring it wouldn’t be long before I caught up.

Travis must have gotten a shot of adrenaline from my pursuit, cause he wasn’t as easy to catch as I had thought.  I tried not to get into a real chase, as we were only 35 miles in, after all, I’m supposed to be the mature one.  I probably did push just a tad too hard, but I was having fun.  The terrain was spectacular.  We were running right along the edge of the mesa with panoramic views towards Capitol Reef, the race’s namesake.  Most of this section was in the pine trees, or right along the edge, but there were also a few alpine meadows.  As the course skirted around the edge of one of these, I noticed the back half of a fawn just a few feet away.  There was no blood and gore, not entrails.  It was just bitten cleanly in half, as one would bite a hotdog.  That is the creepiest thing I have ever seen on a race.  Luckily, it was early afternoon with the sun shining brightly, but I couldn’t help think that on the return, I would be passing through this area right around dusk.  I sure hoped the creature wouldn’t come back for the second mouthful when I was around.  By that time, I would be even more odiferous, encrusted in sweaty salt and sugary driblings, and I would be fatigued, stumbling along at an easily catchable pace.  Yikes!

All good things must come to an end.  What goes up, must come down.  It was now time to drop off the south end of the mesa towards the turn-around.  I vaguely remember Matt mentioning something about a steep, rocky section, but man did he undersell this.  Imagine a mile-long “road” at about a 50% grade, covered in jagged rocks ranging from fist to head size.  It was full-on quad-burning braking all the way down, trying to pick the cleanest line and stay upright.  Falling would have been most unpleasant.

Somehow, I managed to get down without a fall and the only damage was to my already raw feet.  A little way on a pleasant double track, and I could see the Long Lake Aid Station ahead.  And lo and behold, Travis was just heading out.  I yelled out to him, and though he was still off in the distance, I could tell by his slumping shoulders that he was less than pleased to look back and see me.

I made a quick stop through the aid station.  The ladies running it were awesome, as were all of the volunteers.  Travis had warned them of the “naked guy” chasing after him.  As I retrieved my drop bag, I noticed that everything inside was soaked.  No big deal, except for the shirt that I might need on the return trip.  Apparently, one of my cans of club soda leaked out.  Luckily, they’re just carbonated water, with no sugar, so there was no mess, just wet.  I pulled the shirt out and one of the gals graciously took it and hung it on a chair in the sun to dry.

I headed out as fast as I could and was a little surprised by the bit of climbing, as I had assumed it would be all downhill.  At the top of a good long climb, I saw Travis up ahead and in my best Stanley Kowalski bellow, I called out “STELLA!!!”  I’m not sure why, but I was tired of just calling out Travis’s name.  For the next few miles, as the terrain rolled through groves of giant aspens and open meadows, I would periodically catch glimpses of Travis and call out to him - “STELLA!!”

By mile 46, I finally caught up to the young punk.  I would have liked to hang with him for a while, to chat and gloat, but I had recently realized that my first flashlight was back at the previous aid station (mile 58.5) and at the current pace, I might not necessarily make it before dark.  I was feeling good and the terrain was rolling downhill, so I pushed on.  After a couple of miles, I finally came up on the leaders as they were heading back.  My GPS was still dead, but in asking them the distance to the turn-around, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that their lead was less than 2 miles.  This gave me a nice boost and I coasted into the Chriss Lake Aid Station just shy of 12 hours into the race.  Not too bad given the difficulty of the course and my extra ½ hour of wondering.

To add to my happy mood, I was surprisingly greeted by my favorite cheerleaders - Amy, Kirstyn, & Brenda.  I really wasn’t expecting to see them as it was a good bit of a drive and my arrival time was anything but certain.

Luckily I had packed 2 cans of club soda in this drop bag, because another one of them leaked out.  I went through pretty quickly and even Travis’s step-mom helped me out, though she made me promise not to let Travis know.  So I grabbed a couple of snacks, took a quick picture with the girls, bade them farewell, and told them to expect me around 6:00 AM.

I also learned that the sun was setting a bit later than I had feared, and with the rolling terrain back to Long Lake, I would have plenty of time.  With that concern out of my mind, I still pushed on knowing that I should make the most of the daylight and buoyed by the knowledge that the leaders were so close ahead.  If I could just hold on, I’d at least be 3rd place male - one more tomahawk to add to the collection.

I love out-and-back courses: you know what’s in store for you on the second half, there’s a real sense of accomplishment and relief after the turn-around, and you get to see all of the other runners (slower and faster).  It was really nice to see all the oncoming runners, especially on a remote course with such a small field.  Everyone encouraged each other on and I tried to let them all know what the distance and upcoming terrain was like.

I made it back to Long Lake in plenty of time.  I ate some snacks, restocked my supplies, donned my now dry shirt, and packed my flashlight.  After a short distance, I was back to the “river of rock”, this time staring up with a craned neck.  I tried to hold to a sustainable effort, but even that was tough.  I crested the top of the mesa just as the sun was shining its final rays on the valley floor to the east - what an awesome picture that would have made.

I allowed my legs to recover a bit, but soon broke into a run again.  I really wanted to take full advantage of the diminishing daylight.  On this kind of terrain, running at night is always slower.  I was quite surprised to see a couple of runners still heading out.  I doubted they would make the cut-offs, but they seemed to be in good spirits.  I finally succumbed to the darkness and turned the flashlight on.  I was a bit nervous as I still had some distance to go and only the one light.  If it flaked out on me for any reason, I would be stuck, probably doing jumping jacks to stave off hypothermia until another runner came along.

As I had guessed, between the familiarity of the course and the reflectivity of the markers, the route was much easier to find on the return trip.  I don’t know if it was simply out of the beam of my flashlight, or if it had been retrieved by the murderous beast, but I didn’t notice the fawn remnant.  I did, however, make plenty of noise, just in case.  In addition to some gibberish talk and a variety of song snippets, the recurring theme seemed to be “mamma said there’d be days like these…”  Seemed appropriate for the low points as well as the high ones throughout the night. And I’m pretty sure I was singing in tune the whole time.

Pleasant Lake seemed to take forever - one of the detriments to not having a working GPS (damn you, Garmin!).  Every little rise was topped with disappointment as the trail continued on and on into the darkness.  Finally, I saw the dim, khaki glow of the aid station tent in the distance.  As I approached, I was surprised to see two lights coming out of the tent and continuing on the trail.  When I inquired within, I was shocked and delighted to learn that it was the Virginia Beach couple and the leader was only about 15 minutes ahead of them.  Wow!  I must have been really hauling butt since the turn-around.  Travis’s dad was in the tent and helped me out as I gave him news of his son.  I moved in and out pretty quick, excited to catch the couple and possibly run with some company.  It took me all the way to Chokecherry to actually catch them, but I was still making progress.

The three of us left the aid station pretty much together and ran close for a while.  We did a little bit of chatting but soon I started to pull away.  Unfortunately, after we passed through the open meadows and got back into more forested areas, I had a bit of trouble finding the markers and they caught up to me.  We basically ran together until the top of the big descent as it was much easier to route find with three sets of eyes.

At the start of the descent, the trail became pretty distinct and I was able to jog down the slope at a better pace, increasing the distance to my pursuers. I made my way into Fish Creek Aid and was disappointed to learn that the leader had substantially increased his lead.  Between that bit of news and the effort of the past miles, I continued to slow down.  I was constantly looking back in fear of being caught, but I pretty much lost hope of a win.  You would think that the prospect of a second place finish would have been pretty energizing, but I was beat.  The course and my effort were really taking their toll.  It was also around this time that I caught sight of the rising moon.  Normally this would be pretty uplifting, but it only made me more aware of how late it was and that I would not come close to finishing by sunrise.

The remaining 19 miles dragged on interminably.  I was out there alone and the aid stations took twice as long to appear as I wanted/expected.  The climb up the road to Donkey felt like it was miles long and the sky was just starting to lighten.  Not long after I left the aid station, I was able to put the flashlight away.  The increased visibility was welcomed, but knowing how far I still had to go after sunrise was not.  The section between Donkey and Government was my lowest point on the way out and those memories were still relatively fresh.  Though the past 24 hours had dried the mud and the foliage, the mosquitos were almost as bad.  This time, I had a shirt on and was doused in repellant so I didn’t get bitten much, but they were just the annoying tip of the iceberg that I didn’t need.  Though mostly downhill, the rolling terrain went on and on, lengthened further by my slowing pace.

After cresting the final hill and descending for what seemed like hours, I was convinced they had packed up the Government Creek Aid Station and moved it.  By the time I finally reached it, I was downright cranky.  I topped off my water and grumbled a heartless thank you to the volunteer as I continued on down.  I wasn’t feeling strong enough to fully take advantage of the ideal finishing downhill that I had looked forward to since the previous day, but it did improve my mood a bit.  I also started seeing runners coming uphill for the shorter distance races and put on a more cheerful facade.  They were all so incredibly supportive and encouraging, I didn’t want to come off as an ungrateful, self-centered jerk.  Sure, I was tired and disappointed in my time, but I had run almost 100 really tough miles and was in second place.  Most of these runners saw me as an inspiration and I had an obligation to live up to.

As the elevation decreased, the sun and temperature rose.  With my long-sleeve shirt and pack on, I was getting toasty and the miles dragged ever on.  It felt like I was approaching the event horizon of a black hole, where time parabolically slows down to almost infinity.  After what felt like 50 miles since Government Creek, I finally came upon the self-serve aid station with 2.25 miles still left to go.  I dug through the bin and retrieved my stupid, dead camera.  I also found some tasty tea biscuits that just melted in my mouth.  50 feet down the trail, I paused and almost turned back for another handful, but decided against it.  I wanted to be done.

I had tripped and stumbled numerous times during the race, but never hit deck. At least, not until now.  At mile 98, on a smooth double-track, I landed face down in the sand.  This did not improve my mood!  I dusted myself off, spit out the grit, and after a few choice words for myself and the trail, carried on.  A few lifetimes later, I finally heard the road, then saw it, then crossed it.  How the hell did the damn driveway into the lodge get so long!?  I swear it was only 100 feet on the way out, now it felt like a couple of miles!

I could finally see the lodge, and the cars, and the finish!  As I slowly jogged on, I saw Brenda and the girls stooped over some rocks.  Just as I was passing them by, they finally looked up and saw me.  Kirstyn and Amy jumped up and ran across the line with me.  It was over! 26:49:29.  Holly crap.  How did it take so long?

Second place overall, and the toughest 100 I’ve run yet.  I was a bit disappointed in having slowed down so much over the last 30 miles, but that’s just my obsessive, perfectionist nature.

The course markings could have been more frequent.  Though the only two times that I got lost were strictly because of my inattention, the stop and go required to find the next flagging on some of the mesa top sections was extremely fatiguing.  This is a relatively small “issue” which I’m sure Matt will fix for next year.  For a first-time event, things went very smoothly, especially since they had apparently lost a number of experienced aid station volunteers at the last minute due to a funeral.  Matt and Turd’l had warned us at the start about the “inexperienced” volunteers but I can’t think of the slightest complaint with the aid stations.  Everyone was so incredibly helpful and supportive.  It was awesome.

As I said, this was the toughest 100 I’ve run yet.  It was also my favorite.  Monument Valley was probably a little more more picturesque, but this course was so incredibly diverse.  Going from colorful sandstone, to lush jungle-like trails, to giant aspens, alpine meadows and columbine in the thin air at 11,000’+.  I know the 50 miler covered the same route, but seeing it twice on the 100 is totally different.  I hope Matt can put on the 100 again next year.  This race, more than any other in Ultra Adventures’ Grand Circle series is destined to become a classic.

Bryce 100 - 2015

 

This was going to be a real test. I had spent the previous 10 days at sea level, lounging, eating, and drinking. Most people would think this was great rest and tapering, but my body usually prefers to be active before a race. I had the best of intentions and took my running shoes and Garmin along on the vacation, but never touched them.  I did manage to run about 1/2 mile on the beach at one point, but that little to offset all of the extra calories I consumed.

UltraSignup had me ranked at 17 out of 120 with an estimated time of almost 26 hours. Since I had run under 24 last year, and that was my first 100 miler, I was expecting to beat those by quite a bit, despite my low altitude inactivity.

 

 

The race started out well enough. I took it relatively easy on the road and then the meandering single track to the top of the hoodoos. I really enjoyed connecting with new and familiar runners. I was quite surprised and pleased at how many of them had read my blog or used my pacing spreadsheet.

 

 

Thunder Mountain aid came along and I was feeling pretty good but took the time for a potty break. The next section to Proctor was pretty non-eventful, though I made another stop at the composting toilet. My stomach was feeling well enough so I didn't think anything of it. The next stretch was the gentle climb up through the aspens, drop down, then steep climb up to Kanab. It was here that I started to feel a little sluggish. I just relaxed and enjoyed the company of nearby runners, like Lee, who wound up being the 3rd place female.  The initial climb up to the intersection with the 50K course (which would be run the following day), passed by rather quickly. As we dropped down to the low point, clouds moved in and the rain started. At first it was just a light drizzle, then the thunder and lightening kicked in and it turned to a decent rain. I was still going shirtless, but the temps were pretty comfortable and there was no wind down in the canyon so I was feeling fine. As we started the long climb out, I noticed that I was feeling just a bit off. It was nothing alarming, but I know my body well enough. My feet and ankles were a bit achey and my muscles too fatigued for this early on. We eventually hit the high point and there was a bit more rolling terrain before the aid station than I remembered. It was here that I started to slow down more and had a hard time keeping up with the group of runners.

 

By the time I hit Blubber Creek, I knew I needed a break and decided that sitting in the shaded tent would be more pleasant than just plodding slowly along. I gave myself 15 minutes and figured that I would surely feel better after such an extended rest. I sat in a comfy chair and the volunteers offered to make me a fresh cheese quesadilla while I waited. As I was lounging, I looked up to see Tonia Elsworth Smith popping in. She was pretty surprised to see me and moved through efficiently. This gal is amazing.  She is the first pancreatic cancer survivor to run a 100 miler, and she came in 2nd place!

 

 

Leaving Blubber, the skies were mostly clear, and given my pleasant encounter with the earlier rain, I figured I would continue on lightweight and left my jacket behind (big, stupid mistake!). Unfortunately, even after the prolonged rest, I still felt pretty lethargic. I was walking even the most gentle of inclines and was barely jogging the nice downhills. I knew that my "race" was over, but I figured I would just settle back, enjoy the awesome scenery and company of other runners. I did stop at almost every viewpoint and took pictures, as well as just appreciating the landscape.  The section to Kanab is mostly rolling, but quite scenic; much of it along the edge of the plateau.

 

From Kanab to Straight Canyon, the route rolls along the top for a bit longer, then descends slowly on dirt roads, which would normally be an opportune time for me to zip along effortlessly.  Not on this day.  I had to put out real effort to even jog down the hills.

Nearing the aid station, I was surprised to be caught by Travis.  I thought he was well ahead.  We plodded along, side by side to Straight Canyon.  I took more time than usual here and tried to refuel with some ginger ale, but it didn’t do any real good.  At least I made one smart decision.  With the skies darkening again, I pulled a thin, long-sleeved shirt out of my drop bag before heading out.  This probably saved my life, or at least kept me from a DNF.  About half a mile out, the drizzle started.  Then the rain.  Then the hail, accompanied by thunder and lightning.  it was in this section that I started running more consistently with Jonathan Wheelright (who would later save my life).

It was bad enough in the trees, but once we made it out to the little saddle and got onto the gravel road, things got worse.  The lightning strikes were closer and the hail was really hurting.  It never got larger than pea sized nuggets, but man they hurt my nearly bald head and exposed ears.  The temperature also continued to drop and probably got down into the low 40’s.  I was thoroughly soaked and freezing cold.  Taking cover from the lightning and hail would have been nice, but I knew that stopping for even a minute would send me into uncontrollable shivers.  There was no clear sky to be seen anywhere in the distance and hypothermia was a most serious consideration.  I wasn’t setting any speed records on this section, but survival instincts kept me going and each close lightning strike gave me a boost of adrenaline.

As it turned out, a guy just a few hundred yards behind us said that he got knocked to the ground by a lightning strike - now that’s close!

The insane weather finally stopped as we got close to Pink Cliffs.  As we left the ankle deep waters of the gravel road behind, we started climbing up the steep, narrow “trail” to the aid station.  This was now soft and extremely slick mud!

The sun started to break through the clouds just as we got to the aid station but my fingers were too frozen to be able to snap any pictures of the gorgeous view.  In the tent, I changed into a dry shirt and warmed up by the propane heater, along with a handful of other cold runners.

Jon and I headed out of the and station together but separated part way down to Crawford Pass.  The top couple of miles were just miserable.  Last year, the dust was an issue from passing ATV’s.  This year, the rain turned all that fine powder into horrendous mud.  I was quite frankly shocked to have made it through without a faceplant.  It was slicker than ice.

Back on the trail section, I came across Tonia, Travis, Brett, Lee and other runners that I knew or had met earlier in the day.  They were all ahead of me and heading back.

I finally made it to Crawford and changed into dry socks.  The previous few hours of soaking feet had already inflicted some damage, but the fresh socks felt nice.  I rested for a bit and headed back out.  I was now trying to figure out if I would make it to Straight Canyon before dark.  I had a flashlight there just as a precaution, even though I originally expected to be there hours before sunset.  I was also thinking about my warmer clothes, most of which were at Blubber Creek, many miles away.  I knew that the single long-sleeved shirt wasn’t going to cut it after dark and kicked myself for not putting the wet shirt out to dry at Pink Cliffs so I could get it on the second pass.  When I did finally get back up there, I took the soaking shirt out of my drop bag and attempted to dry it by the fire.  One of the nice volunteers offered to trade me one of his dry shirts for my wet one.  I gladly accepted and was glad to be wearing two shirts as the sun lowered in the sky.

Jon and I left Pink Cliffs together and slowly made our way down towards Straight Canyon.  I thought there would still be plenty of light, but being in the trees, a valley, and with the clouds gathering again it was pretty dark by the time we hit the aid station.  I was glad to have packed my light here, but I had no more clothes.  Jon offered me a jacket and hat that he wasn’t going to use.  I almost turned him down, as I like to be self sufficient, but I wasn’t sure if I had any clothes packed at Kanab.  It was a good thing that I did take him up on his generous offer.  There’s no way I would have survived without them.

Heading up towards Kanab, we joined up with a gal from NY.  Her and I stuck together as Jon broke ahead towards the top.  It was a good thing too, as my light started to fade prematurely.  The clouds came on us again and a light drizzle was accompanied by many thunder booms and bright flashes, though none were within a mile.

Kanab was a bit crowded.  Brett was there, along with Justin and his fiancé/pacer, Jen.  Jon was still there and ready to go.  The NY gal was not feeling great and with high probability of rain and lightning forecast for this upcoming section along the edge of the plateau, decided to call it quits.  Another runner started out and headed back after a dozen steps.  I grabbed a fresh light and Jon and I donned trash bags (which were scented) and went forward.  It was rather comical since the bags were rather undersized and we couldn’t even move our arms.  A stumble would have been really funny.

As it turned out, we had a light drizzle for the first mile or so and then the skies overhead cleared up.  There were still plenty of cool lightning strikes a few miles off, but nothing close and no more rain.  As a sign of the “off” day I was having, my new light started fading well before Blubber Creek and I had to stay close behind Jon.  Between the company, clothes and light, I was really starting to owe my race to this guy.

It seemed to take forever, but we finally made it to Blubber.  I had my UD pack here with all the essentials, including another flashlight with fresh batteries.  We warmed up and rested for a bit, then headed out again.  We stayed together for the rolling section near the top, but after we started the descent, I had to pull off into the woods and despite my rushing and picking up the pace afterwards, I just couldn’t catch back up to Jon.  He got a second wind and wound up beating me by over 2 hours.

I kept up a pretty good pace until the bottom.  Once the climb started, I slowed considerably.  Part way up, I came across Travis, yet again.  We hung together for a short bit, but he was moving even slower than me and we separated.  It seemed to take forever to reach the junction where the 50K would join the course.  I remembered thinking the same thing last year.

I was getting more and more tired.  Not just physically, but sleep deprivation was hitting me like never before.  This was my 10th 100 miler and I had never come close to feeling this sleepy before.  On this section heading towards Proctor, I stumbled along in a sleepy haze, wanting nothing more than to lay down and close my eyes.  I marvel at the fact that I didn’t end up face down on the trail.  I was just so incredibly sleepy.  Miraculously, I made it to the aid station and was about to sit in a chair for a snooze when someone vacated one of the cots and offered it to me.  I laid down, took my shoes off (my feet were killing me), threw a sleeping bag over me and dozed off.  A well-meaning volunteer woke me up shortly thereafter to ask me how long he should let me sleep.  Too dazed to speak, I gave him a look that clearly expressed how I was feeling.  I was left alone after that.

I woke up about an hour later, just as the sky was starting to lighten.  I was pleased that the prolonged rest didn’t stiffen my muscles at all.  I ate a whole bunch of pancakes, grabbed a burrito to go, and headed out into the cold morning.  I shivered for a bit, but knew the temperature would quickly rise as the sun came up above the hills.

When I had come in to Proctor, I was unsure of the race cut-off (never having to worry about that before) and was afraid that I wouldn’t make it if it was 30 hours.  Being told it was 36 gave me some peace, but now I still wanted to at least break 30.

A few miles out from Proctor, I passed a guy and a gal stopped on the side of the trail.  My eyes were still pretty fatigued and I had to really stare back at them for a bit to realize that it was Travis, again.  He wasn’t doing that great, but as soon as he saw me, he got his ass into the next gear.  He passed me shortly, but the competitive side of me was also rekindled and I kicked it up a notch to stay close on his heels.  He was pushing the uphills, and I was reeling him in on the descents.

I got into Thunder Mountain just after Travis and we both sped through, though he left half a minute before me.  Brett was there also and urged us both on, though I think he was having foot issues.  Within half a mile, I caught up to Travis and Jen, thinking we could all enjoy the next 8 miles together (though I would of course outsprint him at the very end).  But he cried “uncle”, blaming his poor fiancé for not being able to keep up the pace ( I wonder what his excuse was for the previous 92 miles?).

That little competition with Travis was actually one of the highlights of the race. Neither one of us had the race that we wanted, but we had a blast egging each other on until the very end.  His fiancé actually did a great job, especially given that this was her longest run ever!

The final climb back up through the hoodoos was pretty nice, but the subsequent meandering, in and out of little finger valleys was interminable.  It just took for freaking ever!  My watch had died so I was counting on non-racers that we came upon for distance estimates.  A couple of hiking gals said 4 miles and I thought they were out of their minds.  There was no way it could still be that far.  Then, what seemed like hours later, a jogger said “only 2 miles to go” and I nearly punched him in the face.  I was done, and I needed to race to be done also.

A couple of eternity's later, I finally heard some cheering, came around the millionth bend, and there it was - the glorious finish line.  29:20:36 - about 7 hours slower that I had hoped, but at least it was over.

This was definitely my worst performance ever, but it was memorable, and I was able to connect with new and familiar runners more than ever before.  Matt and Ultra Adventures put on a spectacular event in a most majestic setting.  Unfortunately, my body just rebelled, and the weather certainly didn’t help.

I finished my 6th 100 miler of the year, and despite the slow time, I’m glad that I persevered.

Grand Canyon 100 - 2015

After a decent performance at Collegiate Peaks, I felt ready to tackle my 5th 100 miler of the year - Ultra Adventures Grand Canyon Ultra.

The forecast kept changing dramatically over the 10 days prior to the race, though the last report looked pretty favorable, with temps in the 50’s and only a 20% chance of precipitation, so that’s what I packed for.

I spent the night at a truck stop in Green River, periodically awoken by the sounds of wind, heavy rain, and hail.  It all stopped by morning, but driving down I-70, all the typically dry drainages were flowing with muddy runoff.  As I started heading south, towards the North Rim, another front moved through and I found myself driving through an outright blizzard.  The roads were soon covered with a few inches of slush and the large, wet flakes greatly reduced visibility.  These conditions seemed to be spotty and luckily never got much worse.  By the time I made it to the Kaibab Lodge, the ground was covered with a couple of inches of snow, which continued to intermittently fall throughout the rest of the day.

The start area was a bit of a muddy mess with all the moisture.  I staked out a close by spot to car camp and found Matt to offer my services.  He put me in charge of directing incoming vehicles for parking, check-in and camping.  Poor Matt was not having a great day.  His little chiwawa stepped on the door lock button of his truck (in which Matt had left his keys).  A coat hanger, wooden shims, and lots of prying by the two of us was futile.  He eventually called AAA, and despite their impressive 1 hour estimate, it was a couple of hours by the time the guy showed up.  It took him about 30 seconds to unlock the truck, and then 20 minutes to do all the paperwork (that’s where all of the membership fees go).

Meanwhile, a couple of Park rangers showed up and had us move every single vehicle out of the start area due to concerns for the soft, saturated ground.  It made sense to not allow any additional vehicles, but moving the existing ones seemed rather pointless to me.

Being the parking attendant gave me the opportunity to meet lots of new runners, as well as seeing some old friends, but after standing around for 5+ hours in soaking feet and blowing snow, I cried uncle and had someone relieve me so that I could fuel up, dry off, and warm up.

The local forecast for race day seemed to be quite different from what I had gotten earlier.  The chance for precipitation was much higher and I was wishing I had packed even more stuff.  After a very cold pre-race briefing, I re-packed some of the drop bags, ate a dessert pizza and headed to my car for the night.  I was pretty comfortable until the wee hours of the morning, when my covers just weren’t holding in enough heat.  When my alarm finally went off at 5:00AM, I woke up to temperatures in the 20’s and 4+ fresh inches of snow on the car.  I seriously questioned my choice of starting out in shorts.

Thankfully, Matt sent Rick out ahead of the runners with an ATV to break trail in the fresh snow up to the second aid station.  In the high, shaded areas, the bottom of the ATV was scraping the snow.  Not that I would have been out front, but breaking through that would not have been fun for any runner starting out a 50 or 100 mile race.

 

After about a mile of climbing, we started a nice downhill that lasted almost until Stina.  I can’t tell you how much of a blast it was running this section.  The snow (compressed by the ATV wheels) was just perfect for cruising.  I chatted with various runners along the way, and all enjoyed the scenery but most didn’t like running in the snow.  This was one of my favorite bits of running though unfortunately, I probably went a bit faster than I should have because I was having such a good time.

Now, I’ve got an iron stomach, but typically watch what I eat during a race.  Sure, I indulge in copious amounts of Doritos, cheese quesadillas, birthday cake, etc., but hey, that’s normal, right?  Well, 5.5 miles into a 100 miler, in ankle deep snow, and subfreezing temperatures, I poked my head into the first aid station at Dry Park Lakes when lo and behold, they were taking chewy, sizzling strips of bacon off the griddle.  Even an almost-vegan like me couldn’t possibly resist.  I headed back out with two scalding strips slithering part way out of my mouth, and two more clutched in my greasy gloves.  What better way to battle the wintery conditions?  My mouth is watering just writing bout it.

 

As if Matt wasn’t having enough fun with his dog locking the truck, rangers dispersing our car camping area and weather induced course changes, when we finally arrived at the Stina aid station (one of the main ones, as the 100 milers would be hitting it 3 times), nothing was there, except a big tent with a whole lot of water (as if we didn’t have enough on the trail and in our shoes).  There were no drop bags, no supplies.  Apparently, one of the trucks broke down.  A few of the surrounding runners were in a bit of a tizzy, but I still had an unused nut butter in my pocket, smiled, and soldiered on.  When ginormous organizations like Competitor screws up a Rock n’ Roll event, I have no patience or sympathy.  When shit happens on an adventure race in remote venues, you gotta just roll with it.  15 miles into a 100 mile race is no time to get flustered and negative.  Everyone else is dealing with the same difficulties, so we’re all equally inconvenienced.  How one reacts is what can give you a competitive advantage, or run the rest of the day.

So, on I went towards Stina Point, with a positive attitude (and doubly glad I had eaten all that bacon) until we hit the mud - what the …, son of a …., #(*&^%**&^%^&&^.  My shoes, socks and feet were already sloshing around after all the snow running, but this was the sticky, slick, nasty kind of mud that you slide around on when going up or down hill, and that you lose your shoes in on the flats.  My positive attitude was quickly dissipating.

 

Luckily, the mud sections were relatively short and the magnificent views of the Canyon that greeted us at the turn-a-round made it all worth while.  The other nice part about this out-and-back was getting to see more runners than just the few that were going the same pace as me.  Even though it was so early on, I couldn’t help but count the number of 100 milers ahead of me (surprisingly only 5).  I was a little curious as to not having seen Katrin since the Squaw Canyon aid station.  Part way back, I saw her up ahead.  I could tell something was up and instead of the typical “looking good, great job, etc.” type of crap, I asked her how she was doing.  I was a bit worried to hear that she had taken a bad fall and probably bruised a rib.  As it turned out, she made it to the point, and then dropped when she returned to the Stina aid station - bummer, but a smart decision, especially from someone stubborn enough to have run the last 75 miles of a 100 miler on a severely sprained ankle.

Second time at Stina, they had some gels and a bag full of trail mix, but not much more, and no drop bags.  I stowed a gel for later (yuck) and grabbed a handful of trail mix as I left.  The course continued down the road for a couple of miles and I almost missed the left turn onto the trail.  It was marked about as well as it could be, but I had my head down, stuffing my jacket away - can’t blame anyone for my own stupidity.

 

From here, the course followed a really nice single track trail for over 20 miles - the kind of stuff that trail running is all about.  The ground was dry, the profile was gently rolling, and there were intermittent views of the Canyon.  What more could anyone ask for?  Even the weather was perfect.  Clouds rolled in and out, but never dropped more than a few, barely perceptible sprinkles.

 

I was happy to finally make it to North Timp and access a drop bag again.  I switched to lighter gloves, picked up some portable snacks, and dropped off my shirt (though I did keep the light jacket stuffed in the waistband of my shorts, just in case).  I had already gotten lots of friendly flak for wearing a shirt this far.  Now I felt light and free, enjoying the perfect running temperature.

To the weary mind and body of an ultra runner, pronouncing Parisawampitts is just too much of a challenge, so it took on slight deviation to Paris Hilton’s Armpits.  Most of the innocent bystanders thought I was just slurring my speech in between stuffing my face full of aid station food, but a few found humor in it.

The stretch from Paris Hilton’s Armpits to Crazy Jug was noted as having some “tough scrambling sections”.  I was expecting rock scrambling type of stuff, but it turned out to be much more brutal - a series of extremely steep descents and climbs.  On the way back, an oncoming runner asked me about the “game trails”.  I laughed.  “Are you kidding me?  Game trails are easy.  Humans are the only animals stupid enough to take this route.”

The descents were steep and loose.  The climbs were steep and loose.  The “trail” only got looser as more runners went through.  Sometimes I try to imagine the looks on Matt and Rick’s faces as they’re coming up with these courses.  I see a little devil on one shoulder saying “yes, let’s make it tough” and then another devil on the other shoulder chiming in “no, it’s not tough enough, make it tougher.”  Where is the angel in all of this?

One of the bright spots was that the route was very clearly marked - probably because Rick was tired of carrying all of those flags up and down these dog-awful slopes.  I was lucky to be “running” (falling down and crawling up) this stuff in full daylight.  I felt for the poor souls who would have to negotiate this stuff in the dark.

The other thing that kept me moving through this section was Ozzy Osbourne - “running off the trails, onto Crazy Jug” (are you singin’ it with me?).  The volume was cranked way up in my head for the full 5.5 miles, each way.  It seemed so obvious, even though I was never a huge Ozzy fan, but when I tried to relay it to the volunteers and spectators at the aid station, they gave me that “oh, you poor dumb, bastard, you’ve really lost it now” look.

After Crazy Jug, we had an out-and-back section to Monument Point.  This was my first chance to gauge my placement since Stina Point.  A couple of miles out from the end, I came up on the leader, and very shortly after him, I came upon Sam Reed and another guy.  I was expecting Sam to win this thing, so was a little surprised to see him comfortably hanging back.  I was quite pleased when Garrett Froelich and I came upon the hole punch without seeing any additional runners.  Him and I had been exchanging positions for the past 15+ miles.  We hit the turn-a-around pretty close together and thereafter, I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting him to overtake me again, but luckily he didn’t.

I was pretty happy to be in 4th place at the halfway point, and only an hour behind the three leaders, all bunched up.  I was running a pretty smart race and figured I had a decent chance to catch someone.

 

The return was nice because the out and back format allowed a great opportunity to see all the other runners for a good 10 miles.

 

By Paris Hilton’s Armpits, I was still about an hour behind the 3 leaders - hey, at least I wasn’t losing any ground.  6.5 miles later, at Fence Point, I was still an hour behind the leader, but number 2 was only 40 minutes ahead and number 3 was down to 25 minutes.  Holy cow, I knew I had been running well, but this was quite unexpected.  All of a sudden, I was in real contention for the podium.  Despite knowing better, I started counting the chickens, though the eggs had hardly been laid.  I had visions of not just 3rd place, but an easy 2nd place.  It was all right there within my grasp.  Unfortunately, by the time I reached North Timp, their leads had all increased, and I was getting tired.

 

North Timp to Stina seemed to take forever.  I was pretty slow on the uphills, and even though I still had some leg speed for the descents, there weren't enough of those to make a difference.  The dry trails changed back to spotty mud and increasing snow as I climbed up towards Squaw Canyon.  I wasn’t having the strong finish I had hoped for, but my overall timing was still decent, so I tried to stay positive.

The temperature must have really dropped as everything was covered with sparkling ice crystals and much of the mud was frozen solid.  The stars were spectacular, and kept me company on these lonely miles, with no human contact, other than at the aid stations.  A pacer would have been quite nice, but oh well, I this is what I had signed up for.

I was a bit disoriented and even though I knew the final mile was downhill, wasn’t quite clear on where I was, until I saw the lights from the campground near the finish.  The course was about 5 miles short by my GPS, but I was darn happy to be done.  I was 4th overall and finished in 20:40, much better than the 7th placing and 25+ hours that UltraSignup predicted for me.  It wasn’t quite a perfect race, as I didn’t finish nearly as strong as I would have liked, but my actual pace/mile was within 1 second of what I had predicted/hoped for on my spreadsheet.  That, in itself, was a pretty nice accomplishment.  I’m certainly not the best runner out there, but I’m probably the best at estimating my performance (at least when things go reasonably well).  I missed the podium by about 30 minutes, and that was probably a good thing, as I was getting way too cocky when I had a few good miles and temporarily made up time on the leaders.

 

This was another awesome Ultra Adventures race and Matt and his crew did an amazing job, especially given the weather and other unforeseen circumstances.  I had a blast, and as the 4th UA 100 in as many months, each one has been such a unique experience.  Who would have thought to expect snow and wintery conditions in Arizona in the middle of May?  The volunteers were spectacular and the aid station food was really, really good.  The course was lots of fun.  The snowy downhill was an absolute blast and the single track along the rim was classic trail running.  Views of one of the seven natural wonders of the world were icing on the cake.

Spreadsheet of predicted and actual times

Garmin File

Collegiate Peaks 50M - 2015

After 2 disappointing races in a row (Zion 100 and Cheyenne Mountain 50K), I was more than a little worried heading into Collegiate Peaks.  I really needed a good performance.  I wanted to beat last year’s time, hopefully break 8:30, and try to run negative splits.

The night before the race, I got very little sleep (much like the previous year) and finally got up at about 2:45.  I made it into Buena Vista just as they were starting to set up.  This at least gave me a good parking space near the start line and convenient for accessing my stuff at the end of the first loop.

I saw Hawaiian Shirt Ray before the start and as we exchanged pleasantries, he let me know that he had forgotten to bring any rain gear.  I was happy to find a disposable poncho after fishing around in the back of my car and gladly took it, though I never found out if he got caught in any weather.

I also met up with Steve Bennett, my Shaklee supplier, right at the start line and we posed for a quick picture.

We were all ready to go but unsure if someone had called out “start” when all of a sudden, a small cannon went off with a very full bang.  There was no doubt about that, so we all took off, 25 and 50 milers together.

Pretty soon, I bumped into Eric Hubbard, from Evergreen, who I had run with at the McDowell race in Arizona back in December.  We chatted for a few miles, but then he pushed on and I fell back into a comfortable pace.  I was bound and determined to run a smart race, so up to the first aid station, I was mainly being passed as we all settled into our appropriate spots.

After the first aid, there weren’t too many position changes, other than just shifting back and forth with the terrain.  I was being very conservative on the uphills, but was flying on the descents, thereby see-sawing with others who were maintaining a more consistent pace, yet an inconsistent effort (at least in my view).

After the second aid station, I slowly started to pass a few runners.  I didn’t think I was doing as well as last year on the climbs, but didn’t pay any attention to my watch.  I was going strictly by feel.  I was quite glad to hit the final summit as I was looking forward to a fast, yet somewhat relaxing descent.  I passed a few more runners in the upper section where it was steeper and I wasn’t holding back.  By the time we reached the flatter section of the old Midland Railroad bed, I settled in to a more manageable pace as we were not yet half way done.

With about 3 miles to go to the turn-a-round at the Start/Finish, I came across the first returning runner.  Up until this point, it was impossible to tell who was running 25 or 50 miles and I didn’t much care, but now I started counting.  By the time I got down to the bottom, I had counted 11 runners ahead of me.  I didn’t know how many had started, but since I had come in 10th last year, I figured this was a pretty good spot to be in at the halfway point.  I also looked down at my watch for the first time and was pretty pleased with the 4:13 time for the first half.  I had hoped for something in the 4:00 to 4:15 range and was still feeling pretty good.

After a quick re-fueling stop by my car, I headed back out for the second half.  With my good time and mostly clear skies, I decided to take a bit of a chance and went out without my rain jacket.  I hoped that even if it did rain, it would pass through pretty quickly and I wouldn’t suffer too much.

Heading back up the railroad grade is slow, but still runnable.  I kept a steady pace, but tried not to overdo it as the sun was blazing down and there were still over 20 miles to go.  I passed Eric and another guy pretty early on, but the next runner that I could see up ahead was a decent way off and seemed to be increasing his lead as I struggled up the climb.

Once at the top, I was pleased to see that they had brought out the soda (which was missing from the aid station in the first half).  I re-energized with some Coke, grabbed some snacks and stretched my legs out on the long downhill, catching that elusive runner and another one before the next aid station.

It was pretty lonely out there at this point.  No more oncoming runners, and no one up ahead of me that I could catch.  The clouds moved in and cooled things down, but only let loose a few intermittent drops - perfect running weather.

The last runner that I had passed was looking pretty strong and was within sight behind me for quite a few miles.  I would stretch the lead on the downhills and he would shorten it on the climbs.  I really feared that he would catch up and that would have been a bit demoralizing.

On this second half, I looked at my watch quite a bit, especially in the last 10 miles or so.  I kept calculating and recalculating, trying to figure out what kind of finish time I should expect.  I was moving pretty slowly up the climbs, but was still able to run some sub-8 minute miles on the descents.

Breaking 8:30 was starting to look out of reach as I headed into the last aid station.  Fortunately, their little mileage sign was off, reading 44.95, whereas my GPS said I was only at 44.  Though the halfway mileage spot on, I just assumed that my GPS was now off (maybe it couldn’t keep up with those fast downhill miles), so I was elated.  Having a whole mile less would give me a really good shot at breaking 8:30.

As the miles ticked off and I neared the road, I caught a glimpse of another runner ahead.  This was just the push that I needed.  He was a tough one to catch and it took me a while, but just as we got on to the asphalt, I was able to drop him.  I wasn’t quite sure of the remaining distance, but this last guy was moving pretty well so I kept pushing the pace not wanting him to catch back up.

As I crested the little hill after we crossed the river, I saw yet another runner way off in the distance.  I didn’t think I would have enough distance left to catch him, but I pushed on.  It turned out that I was able to average a 7:30 pace on these last 3 miles - not bad for the end of a 50 miler.

As he made the second to last turn up ahead, I thought all was lost as turned back he saw me.  I figured he would make a final push also and would be too difficult to match, but he had nothing left and I was able to pass in the final half mile, encouraging him on to a strong finish.

There, in the distance, was yet another runner.  It seemed like everyone was bunched up at the end.  I pushed with everything I had, but soon realized that it was futile.  I just pushed on to make sure that I broke my goal, and I did.  I crossed the line in just over 8:28.  16 minutes better than last year, 2 minutes ahead of my goal, and only 2 minutes off of a negative split (4:13 and 4:15).  And I finished 6th overall.

Those last few miles really made the difference between a decent race and a great one.  I would definitely not have done as well had it not been for those last couple of runners teasing me on.  Though it also made for one of the toughest ultra finishes I’ve had to date.

Garmin File

Cheyenne Mountain 50K - 2015

This was going to be the first real test race that I could compare to the previous year in a while, though I went into it without serious expectations, other than to improve.

The forecast was pretty darn good, 60’s and partly cloudy.

I purposely taped over the average pace reading on my Garmin so that I wouldn’t worry about my pace too early on.  I didn’t even look down at the time until close to the halfway point.  The plan was to run strictly by feel.  I could have gone even a bit slower early on, but just went with the flow of the surrounding runners.  By the time we dropped off the highpoint of the first north loop, I was settled in to my spot, yet slowly caught other runners on the fun downhill.  From here on, I wasn’t passed by a single person for the whole mid-half of the race.

The first south loop went reasonably well, still running by feel.  I was a bit worried though when we passed the site of usual aid station location.  It had been in this spot each of the years I ran the race, from its inception and this time, there was nothing.  I knew I could stretch the contents of my bottle for the full loop, but it would be that much harder on the second time around as the temperature and the sun rose.  Luckily, the aid station had just been moved to the split into the lollypop portion.  This made more sense, but everyone seemed to be surprised.

As I finally finished off the first 25K, I came through the start/finish area and checked my time.  Expecting something in the 2:15 to 2:30 range, I was a bit disappointed to look down and see 2:38.  My chances of beating last year’s time were slipping away, but I still felt pretty decent.  Had I just gone out too conservatively?  Could I still make up that much time in the remaining mileage?

As the climb from the start area started, things changed rapidly.  I was noticeably slower than I had been the first time around.  I was also breathing much harder than I should have been.  Things didn’t improve as I crested the loop, even though I did manage to pass a few runners.  The downhill that I had enjoyed so much a couple of hours earlier was now killing me.  My sides were on the verge of cramping and I had to slow down to a jog instead of flying down like I usually can.  The one last positive note was passing a Runners Roost team member on the way down (am I a lousy sport, or just overly competitive?).

As I headed out on the final loop I got passed.  As the loop wore on, I wore down even more and got passed by more runners.  I was really feeling off now.  My neck and shoulders were tight and aching.  I haven’t had issues with a handheld on 100 milers, and here I was only 20+ miles in and feeling it.  Additionally, my head was feeling all clogged up, like I was under water.  And to add to my misery, I was now experiencing some serious diaper rash, having gone with my lighter shorts.  You would have thought I would have learned my lesson at Zion, but I thought a short 50K wouldn’t present any problems.

I struggled through the downhill to the finish and was quite pleased to see Brenda and the girls there.  My time was almost 50 minutes slower than 2014, but I rarely get to run across the line with my daughters, so that part was fun.

I have no idea what went wrong (other than the stupid shorts).  I wasn’t sick before the race, and I didn’t develop any symptoms afterwards.  My fueling and hydration were good enough and I felt like I had recovered reasonably well from the Zion 100 2 weeks earlier.  I just had a really, really off day.  This makes 2 disappointing races in a row.  WIth only a week till the Collegiate Peaks 50 miler, all I can do is hope that things go differently.

Garmin File