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

Zion 100

another beautiful buckle

Here is a list of all the small things that I did wrong leading up to and during Ultra Adventures Zion 100, which hopefully I will learn from and not repeat:

• I was a couple of pounds heavier than I should have been.  I just got complacent in the weeks leading up to the race and splurged too much.
• I ate too much and too late the night before the race.  I had a nice mexican pizza in the late afternoon, but then I got greedy and made a heavy, high-calorie, dessert pizza late in the evening.  Damn Matt Gunn for providing glutenous pre-race food that I just can’t seem to resist.  I knew as I was eating that Nutella, banana, marshmallow pizza that it was not a good idea
• I started out too fast, trying to avoid being caught up in the conga line up Flying Monkey.
• I didn’t bother to slow down after making it up Flying Monkey.
• I ran just a bit too fast on the Guacamole loop because I was trying to keep up with a couple of other runners, and I was having so much fun.
• I didn’t use my ice-bandana to combat the heat.
• I pushed way too hard up the climb to Goosebump aid.
• From Goosebump to Grafton, I ran with someone who was going just a tad too fast for me.
• Despite my detailed spreadsheets, I didn’t bother to pack clothes in early enough drop bags, mistakenly assuring myself that I would be running faster than I did.
• LIGHTS - my first light was completely dead because it probably got switched on in the drop bag.  My second light faded after only 2 miles because I had not charged it in a while.  My third light was completely dead from having been turned on in the drop bag.
• My short “racing” shorts do not provide adequate protection from rubbing for ultras over 50K. 

One of the positives was that I had absolutely no foot issues.  Without any considerable sand, I didn't suffer from a single blister. 

I started Thursday with a quick morning hike into Taylor Creek on the west side of Zion National Park.  This was one of Matt’s Trifecta challenges that proved to be a beautiful side trip.  The trail followed the middle fork of the creek, ending at the Double Arch Alcove.

Double Arch Alcove

I had thought about heading into the main part of the park for another hike, but instead volunteered at race headquarters.  After filling up dozens of 5 gallon water jugs again, I think it’s become my niche, and I look forward to doing repeating it at the Grand Canyon.  I was also tasked with getting firewood (from a 19 year old gal and her much younger siblings (scary watching them operate the splitter)), and a whole bunch of ice (you should have seen the young gal’s face when I asked for 40 bags) (thanks to Kelly Agnew for the help with both).

ultra runners go through lots of water

The back of my Outback is quite comfortable for sleeping, but getting race-ready in there is a bit more difficult and time consuming.  I therefore had only a minute to spare before the countdown was on and we were off.

looking back at the line of headlamps heading up to Flying Monkey

Based on the pre-race briefing Thursday evening, I decided that I need to start out much farther up front than I would typically like, just so that I could miss the backed-up conga line that was predicted up Flying Monkey.

view from Flying Monkey

Runners spread out along the road leading up to the base of the climb and the kicked up dust filled our headlamp beams and our lungs.  The climb itself was not too bad.  It was a slow hike, but nothing out of the ordinary.  The “rope section” that I had heard about was less than 10’ up a slope of slickrock.  I just went straight up without touching the rope.  Near the top, a young boy was directing traffic.  We were to run past the intersection, check in at the aid station and come back to hit the loop.  I don’t know why, but it seemed rather confusing at the time, even though I couldn’t yet blame it on fatigue.

At the Flying Monkey AS, I was a little disturbed to find that there were no drop bags.  I grabbed a few M&M’s, refilled my water, and headed out on the loop, praying that the bags would be there when I returned.  My stashed snacks and Doritos would be missed, but most important was the only pair of sunglasses that I had packed.  The prospect of running all day in the blazing sun with unprotected eyes really worried me.

I ran pretty much alone for the entire loop.  I could see others up ahead or behind, but we were pretty spread out at this point.  I enjoyed the rising sun (and temperatures) while I tried to picture the poor primates that our military had flung off the side of the mesa in order to test ejection seats and parachutes before our soldiers had to rely on them.

return down Flying Monkey

Back to the aid station, I was greatly relieved to find my drop bag.  I downed a can of club soda and received a few smart-ass comments about the bag of Doritos that I stuffed into my shorts before heading back down the trail.  The descent was not steep enough to slow things down a bit, but nothing worrisome.  I once again avoided the rope and just did a slide/jump down that section.  Back onto the desert floor, I settled into a comfortable pace.  We crossed the road and a creek which would be fondly remembered later during the heat of the day.  We climbed up and over a ridge and then descended into the Dalton Was AS, which was rather lively as it was a convenient spot for family and crew.

The climb out from the aid station was relatively gentle, on a dirt road and mostly runnable, except towards the end.  It topped out at the Guacamole AS, where I quickly went through my standard resupply routine.  I started out on the loop and hooked up with a couple of other runners as we enjoyed the views off the edge of the mesa.  Pretty soon, we were on the loop portion, which is a slickrock mountain biking trail.  I had an absolute blast on this section, though everyone around me and later on commented on how terrible it was.  Unfortunately, between enjoying myself and wanting to keep up with the other runners, I pushed myself just a bit too hard for this early in the day.

I made it back to Guacamole aid and refueled.resupplied yet again.  I had packed my ice bandana anticipating a hot day, but I stupidly decided to forego it since I was still feeling good.  I didn’t want to bother with the ice at each stop and I had the camera in my back pocket which would have gotten waterlogged from the melting ice.  The temperature was climbing, but it was still early and a mild breeze at the top belied the desert climate that was still waiting to entrap me.

At the aid station, I also ran into Jeff, who I had chased down in the first half of the Monument Valley 100 a month earlier.  I passed him at the descent as he stopped to catch up with friends.  The road back to Dalton made for pretty good running, though I felt for runners that were still making the climb.

Back at Dalton, it was even crazier than the first visit.  The road was lined with cars, crews, and cheering families.  The route led down the dirt road a short way, then along the main paved highway, until we turned off to the south.  We ran across the desert on another dirt road, heading towards the Goosebump climb.  I could see it up in the distance and was still feeling good, despite the rapidly rising temperatures and the unrelenting sun.  I pushed pretty hard up that climb.  Only 30 something miles in, there was no reason for such an effort.  I could feel the sun baking me as I struggled up the incredibly steep climb.  A short section of shade near the top brought some welcomed relief as I drained the last drops from my hand-held.

looking towards the climb up Goosebump

Topping out, the Goosebump AS was a hub of activity.  Not quite as crazy as Dalton, since it was still early, but lots going on.  Despite having studied the darn course map at length, I could not remember this section and relied on directions from the volunteers.  The station was split into two, going through one side on the way out and coming back through another tent on the return.  The trail was pretty easy to follow but at some point, I missed a turn and when I found the next course marker a minute later, I headed out in the wrong direction.  It was a section with a bit of a horseshoe bend but luckily I realized my error pretty quickly and only lost a couple of minutes.

Matt was there helping with the setup at Gooseberry point AS.  This guy is all over the course during the race.  Managing a 100 mile race has got to be so much more physically demanding than running it.  I headed out on the short out-and-back to a spectacular view point, punched my bib and came back to the aid station where I unhappily discovered that the return was 2.5 miles longer.  I still enjoyed the undulating slickrock, much like Guacamole.

looking back towards Gooseberry Point

As part of my arrogant approach to Zion, I chose to wear my “racing” shorts - shorter and lighter, making me feel faster.  Unfortunately these shorts seem to have a limit of about 50K.  By the time I got to Goosebump, I had goosebumps (uncomfortable ones) on the insides of my thighs.  Copious amounts of vaseline helped, but only temporarily.  I wound up re-applying multiple times throughout the day and night, resulting in a rather heavy, disgusting pair of shorts by the end.  It felt more like I was wearing diapers by the end, rather than the “racing” shorts I had hoped for.

slickrock trail between Goosebump and Gooseberry

On the return to Goosebump, I was caught by Jeff and we headed out for the next section together.  He wasn’t really pushing the pace, but it was just a touch faster than my fatiguing body should have been going.  About halfway to Grafton, I started falling back and was eventually walking the slightest of hills.  The excesses of the first half were finally catching up to me.  In addition to my deteriorating pace, my stomach was now becoming an issue, which meant I had to cut back on my fueling, furthering my downward spiral.

lots of blooming cacti

After a brief stop at Grafton, I continued on and was quite disappointed that the drop down to Cemetery was not all downhill.  There was some climbing involved and then the trail was so incredibly circuitous.  These little things seem significant when everything was falling apart.  And to almost make matter totally unbearable, I came extremely close to falling onto a cactus.

Near Grafton, I passed Rachael, Ethan, and a few other familiar faces.  I was still a bit grumpy and it showed through in the content and tone of my responses.  Someone pointed out that despite my “misfortunes” I was 10 miles ahead of them, only halfway through the race.  This was a cold slap of reality right across my face and took the took the wind out of my self-indulgent pity.  My attitude changed then and despite continuing mishaps, I tried to see the humor of the situation (especially with my lights).

Passing through Grafton the second time, I was welcomed with the most incredible cheese quesadillas.  This seems to be a recurring theme on my 100 milers, and a welcomed on at that.  With my stomach feeling a bit better, I knew I had to make up for lost time and refuel for the oncoming night.  I took a couple of extra large pieces, then a couple of more, and more - at least 8, pizza slice portions.  The full stomach slowed me down, but man were they great!

For the past few miles, I was continually calculating my pace vs. the onset of night.  What I was sure would be a daytime descent from Goosebump was clearly not going to happen.  It was going to be dicey to even make it back it back to Goosebump before dark.  Luckily, I had packed a small, emergency flashlight (at the last minute) in my Grafton drop bag.  I held it comfortingly in my hand as I steadily made my way back on the road.  I was feeling a bit better now, but definitely not 100%.  I tried to enjoy the sunset and be positive and supportive to the oncoming runners that trailed me by many miles.  Even though it had gotten completely dark, the road was wide and smooth so I didn’t bother to turn on the light, which was a good thing.  Upon entering Goosebump aid for the final time, I clicked on my light so that I could find my drop bag.  Nothing happened.  I clicked again and again.  Nothing.  I had tested it out at home so I can only guess that it must have inadvertently turned on in the drop bag and died.  No problem - I had one of my main lights at Goosebump, so I just laughed it off.

With my new, working light, I dropped off the rim and headed down the incredibly steep descent.  It wouldn’t have been much faster in the daytime as the full effort was involved in just staying upright.  The “trail” alternated between broken, jumbled rocks, and loose, dusty sand.  Fortunately for my burning quads, we hit the base sooner than expected and I was able to run again on the rolling jeep road.  Soon after I made the right turn towards Virgin, and only a couple of miles into this 8 mile section, I came to the horrific realization that the flashlight that normally lasts me 3+ hours was already dimming.  I hadn’t recharged this light before the race and had just assumed that it was full.

I knew that I couldn’t make it to Virgin before it gave out.  The sky was pretty clear, but the moon wouldn’t rise for many hours and my chances of staying on route purely by starlight were miniscule.  I had passed a couple of runners on the way down the slope, so I could wait for them, but I noticed a bobbing light far up ahead.  I decided to push on, fueled by desperation, to try and catch up to the next runner.  It was an odd game.  The dying battery forced me to run faster, yet the reduced light made it tougher.  I eventually caught up to the light and was surprised by how long it had taken me, given that it was a 100K’er who was now walking.  I asked to share his light and company.  He graciously agreed and I enjoyed the slowed pace, though the reduced effort made me shiver in the chill night.

I had a long sleeve shirt tied around my waist and was now quite glad to have it.  It wasn’t mine.  No, this was another element of my stupidity.  Despite my meticulously detailed spreadsheet, I was so sure I would make it to Virgin early enough, that I didn’t bother to pack so much as a T-shirt in my earlier drop bags.  This, despite the fact that I have so many stinking, technical race shirts that I give them away to friends and Goodwill, and still have piles in my closet.  Luckily, back at Goosebump, a lovely aid station volunteer looked horrified when I admitted that I had nothing but the shorts around my loins until Virgin, so she went to her car and gave me a nice shirt to borrow.  Other than the chill of leaving the fire at the aid station, it had been quite warm, especially with my efforts on the descent and then to chase the light, so I had kept running shirtless.  I was now quite glad to have this shirt, though I deserved to shiver through my stupidity.

After a while, another runner came upon us and I bid my helpful friend goodbye as I leached onto another host.  This guy was running pretty well, having conserved his strength early on (as I should have done).  It took a good effort to hang with him, but at least I was rested from the walking break.  As we followed the road, I could run by his side and make full use of his light.  Unfortunately, the route meandered a bit on and off some trails too.  These sections were quite difficult as my light was pretty dim by now and I had to really push to stay on his heels.

I was so incredibly thankful to arrive at Virgin Desert.  As we were going to visit this aid station 4 times, this was my main stash.  I quickly put on my own shirt, replenished snacks and took out my main light - the one with a freshly charged, high-capacity battery.  I clicked it on and was dismayed by the darkness emanating from the lens.  ^&&^$@!!!!!  Even though I had wrapped it in a shirt, the switch must have gotten pushed on and it was completely and utterly dead!  Was this a comedy of errors, or cosmic stupidity?  I cried.  I laughed.  I mostly cried.

I swapped out the one spare battery I had packed and was so relieved when the blinding light shone in my face.  In my fatigued and battered mind, I tried to do the complex time math.  I had only tested these batteries out for 5 hours.  I still had 23+ miles to run.  There was no way I could hold a 13 minute pace.  The moon would be out by then, but what the heck could I do by the light of a half moon in unfamiliar territory?  Of well, I would burn that bridge when I came to it.

I put on my red bracelet (the color coded loops really made it simple), gulped down three cups of spicy ramen, and headed out on the first loop.  This loop, the shortest of the three, was all single-track, but included quite a bit of little up-and-downs.  The trail cut across the side of “rivulets” coming down from higher ground, creating a continuous roller-coaster of dips and hills, only a few feet high.  Though the elevation gain from these was not great, they prohibited any kind of rhythm or steady pace.  I’m betting that these would have been a blast on a mountain bike, but not so much while running at night.

I was glad to return to Virgin Desert.  More spicy ramen, a white bracelet (which glowed faintly), and I headed out for the second loop.  The second loop was longer than the first, but much of the same terrain, including the annoying roller-coaster rivulets.

Back to Virgin Desert again, I traded my white bracelet for a blue one, downed more ramen and soda, and headed out on the final, longest loop.  I started out with another runner, but he dropped me pretty quickly.  Shortly after the blue loop broke off of the yellow route (for the 100K), there was a trail intersection with no race markings.  It took me about 2 minutes to figure out the correct way and find the next marker.  This was the first and only route marking issue that I experienced the entire time.  The trail now seemed to follow the top of a vertical ravine of unknown depth.  It must have been around 2:00 AM at this point, because a faint orange glow developed in the east and soon the half moon rose above the distant hills.  It never gave off enough usable light, but the company that it provided on this remote section was invaluable.  I purposely avoided checking the mileage on my Garmin but when Virgin Desert came into view from the top of a rise, I knew it was too good to be true.  As I suspected, the trail turned in the opposite direction and the welcoming lights quickly dropped out of view.  I felt totally alone out here and I’m glad I had recovered (at least mentally) and didn’t have any further equipment or physical issues or I might have just laid down and waited for the sun to rise.

At the 6:00 AM start, after a good night’s sleep, fully fueled and hydrated, pumped up on the adrenaline of the glorious day to come, 45 degrees was invigorating on my shirtless torso.  22 hours later, physically and mentally fatigued, disenchanted by my lackluster performance and confounded by my cumulative stupidity, 45 degrees was practically hypothermia inducing, even with a long sleeved shirt, hat, hooded jacket, and gloves.  I shivered uncontrollably as I left Virgin Desert for the final time, running on fumes, and the smell of the barn - the dim light at the end of the long tunnel, the finish line.

Not long after leaving Virgin Desert, I looked back to see a headlamp following less than a quarter mile behind.  It was still a ways to the finish, but I didn’t want my mediocre performance to be deteriorated further by being passed so close to the end.  I was feeling better now and the terrain was quite runnable, so I kicked it up a notch.  Soon, the light was lost even though I could see a good ways back.

I eventually made it back onto the main paved road and took advantage of the flat, paved surface to maintain a good pace.  I didn’t bother to look at my Garmin until I was on the edge of Virgin and then I realized that I had a shot at breaking 23 hours, so I really hit the gas.  I sprinted at a sub 9 minute pace (yes, that is considered a fast sprint at the end of 100 miles), finishing in 22:59:04.  Alas, as a final indignation, my Garmin and the official race clock were off by one minute, so UltraSignup shows me at 23:00:04 :-(   boo hoo.  But at least I beat their prediction by finishing 22nd instead of 23rd.

Matt and all of his crew put on yet another incredible race.  I don’t know if Zion was really any tougher than Antelope or Monument Valley.  I certainly had a tougher time, but that might have been the cumulative effect of all of the mistakes I made.  It’s not quite as scenic as the other two races, but those are pretty high standards to measure up to.  I did like not having to run through much sand.  The energy of the larger crowds and more runners was also nice and the start/finish area in the town park was better for hanging out.  The course was very well marked, the single track sections were fun, and I had a blast on the slickrock, though I seemed to be the only one.  All in all, an awesome race that is well worth running.

Grand Canyon is next.  Who's going to join me?

Garmin File

Spreadsheet of predicted and actual times