Thanks for visiting my blog. This is where I document and share all of my running adventures with my friends and fellow runners. The good, the bad, and the unquestionably painful. All for your entertainment! Enjoy!

Monday, March 30, 2015

2015 Pickled Feet 24 Hour Race: The Impossible Win

Every now and then, at purely random intervals, every runner has the perfect run. Your legs feel great, your heart rate is low, your breathing is smooth and you feel like you can run forever.

This race had none of those things.

I was registered for the Pickled Feet 48 hour race and was eager to run this event. I had run the 24 hour the previous year, and managed to pull off a tough win. Now I had my sights set on the same thing for the 48 hour race.

And...that wasn't meant to be.

Jo and I returned home from vacation a few days before the race and the only souvenir I brought back was a deep chest cold. The only "welcome home" I got was an enormous pile of paperwork on my desk. I knew I didn't have the time OR the physical well being to contend in the 48 hour race, so I dropped down to the 24 hour and hoped for the best.

Please allow me to set the stage:

This race course is a 2.5 mile loop, mostly trail and dirt road, with a tiny bit of paved surface near the timing station and aid station. There are some small amounts of shade, but because the leaves haven't come in yet, the course is largely exposed. With the exception of a couple of small "hills", it's dead flat. The scenery is pleasant enough, but mostly for the first 50 or 60 miles of looping through it. Then it gets a bit stale.

The 24 hour race has a 6:00 PM start, which presents a challenge in itself, because it prolongs the number of hours the runners will be awake before the finish. I'm not sure if this done because of timing and logistics, or just to be cruel.

Jo and I arrived a couple hours early to set up a tent, chairs, and to get my gear situated in our crew station along the course, near the timing station. It was ridiculously hot and I felt like death.

Some of the other races were already underway and I saw several familiar faces as they ran past, heading to the timing mat. Among those was Davy Crockett. He was running the 100 mile race, which had started at 10:00 that morning. Davy was looking excellent and moving really well, especially considering the heat. We chatted briefly as he made his way to be counted for another lap.

After a short race briefing, we lined up at the start and got ready to be sent off. Because I was sick, I had very modest expectations. To be honest...my only expectation was to be miserable for as many miles as possible, then go home with my tail between my legs.

At 6:00 PM, we were off.

I started the race at my normal pace for an event like this and almost immediately realized that I was in over my head. I couldn't breathe, my heart rate was through the roof and I wanted to puke. But I wasn't ready to slow down yet. A small part of me thought it would be temporary, but that was just wishful thinking.

You Can ALMOST See the Other Runners Behind Me

After about 1/4 mile, we come to the fork at the beginning of the loop. We have a choice in which direction to run and we can change it up any time we want. It's a small thing, but it really helps with the mental side of the race.

I habitually go left on this course and almost everybody else goes right, and this time was no different. Except for one other runner. I could hear the footfalls behind me, as they got closer and closer. I was tempted to look over my shoulder, but it's way too early for that type of paranoid behavior. After a few more minutes, a tall female runner pulled alongside me, glanced over and said "Hello" in a very calm and relaxed manner. To which I replied "Heh (gulp of air) LO!".

Now...this has happened to every runner at some point. I'm running my ass ragged trying to keep up with this woman and she's just coasting along, chatting, happy as hell. Because I can't breathe, I'm limited to one word answers, which launch from my face with a blast of exhaled air before sucking in lungful of life sustaining oxygen. I look and feel like an idiot!

In a clever ruse, I fall in behind her and drop a few feet in hopes of focusing more on survival than conversation. But we keep "chatting".

And just when I thought things couldn't get worse, we got off course!! This goes to prove that I can get lost on virtually ANY course, ANY time. We got back on course, after losing several positions, and headed to the timing mat to complete our FIRST 2.5 mile loop.

"Don't Pants Your Poop!"

As I was heading out for another loop, I slowed my pace trying to settle my breathing and my heart rate. They wouldn't calm down. It was sweltering out, I was sweating profusely and I felt terrible. I wasn't even 3 miles in and I was already feeling like I should pack it in, go home and pretend this never happened.

I ran the second loop at a very slow pace but I never recovered. My chest cold was destroying my race and trying to kill me in the process. When I got back after my second loop, I plopped in a chair and announced that I was going to drop from the race. Jo was chatting with Jim Skaggs as I made my proclamation and they both turned to look at me in my pathetic state. Neither were very impressed.

I sat for 15 full minutes, working on cooling down and regaining my heart rate. Once I settled down, I decided to go out for a few more laps and see how I felt. I was noncommittal on the topic of finishing, but I was here, so I may as well log a few miles.

I ran the next few loops slowly, feeling sorry for myself and mumbling self disparaging comments under my breath. I felt like I was running for all the wrong reasons and I just wanted to save the embarrassment and go home. I was fully dejected and disengaged.

Farthest Reaches of the Course

I made my way around a few more loops and decided I was going to stop whining and stick it out for 100 miles, even if it took all 24 hours. I was just going to keep running and deal with it.

Awesome Aid Station

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the temperature dropped rapidly. I was still running pretty slow, but the cooler weather felt great. I tested my pace a bit by speeding up, and I felt pretty decent. My mood immediately began to shift.

I don't mean I suddenly got perky, grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. I mean I just hated life a little less. Let's maintain perspective here.

I was still relatively slow, but I wasn't nearly as miserable as I had been in the early miles. In a better mood, I was able to chat with other runners more and focus on enjoying the night as the hours, and miles passed on by.

I really enjoy running at night and I was hoping that I would make some modest gains as the night wore on.

My pace was terribly slow, but I was hoping I could fall back on my endurance and carry myself through with a relatively decent run. At least something to avoid embarrassment. Only time would tell.

Once the sun completely faded, it got cold. REAL cold! I was stopping at our tent every couple of laps to add another layer of clothing to try to ward off the freezing temps. I did this until I was wearing every piece of running gear I brought. I was still cold!

This Picture Pretty Much Sums it Up

I was keeping a steady, but still slow pace as I worked around and around the course. I was ignoring my mileage and lap count and didn't even want to know where I was until sunrise. After that, I would develop a plan to finish the race. I was still shooting for 100 miles and then a hasty exit from the race. Followed by a HOT shower and WARM bed.

As the sun began to rise, the winds picked up and some intermittent rain started to fall.

And then it got biblical!

As I was making my way to the timing mat, a headwind was working to push me backwards down the trail. I was relegated to a walk, leaning my entire body into the oncoming wind. Tree branches were snapping off trees and were sent flying through the air. Sand and rock was being blown into my face. It seemed like a good time to see about that shower and bed.

As I came to the aid station, I saw two large canopy tents as they were launched into the air and thrown back to the ground, totally  destroyed. The total count would be six tents ruined before it all died down.

Hands down...the worst weather I ever ran in.

I had started the race in brutal heat and was now working hard to keep from freezing to death. Fortunately, I had the chance to generate some body heat while running, a benefit that the volunteers and crew member did NOT have.

My Poor Crew Trying to Stay Warm

Eventually, the wind died down, the rain stopped and the day began to turn for the better. Things were finally looking up.

I was still moving slow, but the good news was...I was still running. I checked the leader board to learn that I had moved up to 2nd place overnight.

Learning this changed my perspective entirely. While I had been focused on a 100 mile finish followed by a quick retreat, I was now energized by the idea of possible win. A thought that had escaped me by mile 5 the previous day.

I began to keep a close eye on Ryan Lund, the first place runner. He's a solid ultra runner and pretty great guy. As the race wore on, it was becoming obvious to us both that one of would walk away with the win.

Aside from keeping tabs on my own race, I found distraction watching the 12 hour race, where Jim Skaggs (Buffalo Run 100 RD) was working on a win and a possible course record. I've run with Jim several times, but never raced with him and I was in awe of the work he was doing. Jim would go on to win the 12 hour race and set a course record. A first time for him on both accounts. It was awesome to watch it unfold and I enjoyed cheering him along the way.

Jim Skaggs Working Hard

The weather was improving steadily and we were transitioning into a beautiful spring day. The weather was warming and the sky was cloudless. Perfect running weather.

At 11:00 AM, I had taken the lead. I was feeling better than I had the entire race but I still had seven hours to try to build a gap between me and the 2nd place runner.

I truly HATE leading races because it adds a huge burden and a tremendous amount of stress to the run. I tried to remind myself that I almost dropped out at mile 5, so whatever I leave with will be an absolute gift. 

Ryan and I were fully aware that the race was between us and we chatted frequently in the remaining hours of the race. On a couple of occasions, we ran together and exchanged stories while we got to know each other a bit.

This is one of the cool things about this sport. While we're actively competing with each other, we can still interact without ego or malice. I was deeply enjoying my time running with Ryan and I think he's a fantastic person. At that point, I would have been happy for either of us to win.

I mean...if I HAVE to choose, I guess I would be happier if I won. But you get what I mean.

As the clock continued to wind down, it became more and more obvious that Ryan wasn't going to be able to catch up. He was struggling through a rough patch and trying to bounce back while regaining some lost ground. At this point, I was just trying to manage my lead, keeping him far enough back to hopefully win without killing myself in the process.

Ryan and I met on the trail, running in opposite directions and we stopped to talk for a minute. He was still feeling rough and decided to stop his race at 100 miles, collect a buckle and call it a day.

Ryan was essentially conceding the race which would hand me the win.

We parted ways and I thought about this for a while, deciding what to do next. I now had the option of stopping and still collecting the win, which was pretty damn appealing right then. I had 107.5 miles logged, which wasn't impressive at all. I decided to push on for 120 and just try to relax and enjoy the remaining hours.

A Toast From the Crew

With the pressure off, I walked more, talking with the runners that I had been sharing the course with for the last day. Everyone's mood was lifting as the race was drawing to a close and for the first time, I was actually enjoying myself. I was still sick, and now totally exhausted, but I was happy.

Heading to the Timing Mat to Log 120 Miles, PBR in Hand!

I hit 120 miles with about 30 minutes remaining. Near the end of this race, the RD opens a small loop for us to run on so we don't get caught on the big loop when the race time runs out. I was happy with 120 miles, but decided to go log some additional distance since I had the time, and easy access to beer.

Long Loop, Short Loop, Arrow, Arrow, Arrow, Arrow. Not at all Confusing

After drinking a beer, I rolled out onto the short loop, still running. I immediately ran into trouble. The short loop runs in a circle around the BBQ that was busy grilling up food for the runners. It was simply more than I could handle. After running 120 miles, I was hungry! I finished one loop and headed right to the food.

Forget This...I'm Over This Running Thing

I ended my race with 120.28 miles, collecting my second consecutive win at the Pickled Feet 24 Hour Race. It's a long ways from an impressive total, but I was happy enough, anyway.

I took the next hour to rest, eat, drink beer and wait for the awards ceremony. Emily Berrichoa, the Race Director, takes time to recognize every runner as they come up to collect their finishers award. It's a pretty fun ceremony and I always enjoy cheering for all the unique accomplishments.

The Men and Women of the 24 Hour Podium. All Smiles and Laughter!

I love this event and all the great people in the Boise running community. Kindness, generosity and good spirits make this a pretty incredible event. The excellent race organization just ties it all together.

It was an unbelievable struggle for me to go from immanent DNF at mile 5, to the overall race win. It was an excellent lesson in patience and persistence for me. At the time, I saw it as stubbornness, but it was a bit more than that. I was elated with how things turned out.

I was also very pleased with my shoe choice. This is my second race and second win the Topo Athletic Fli-Lytes. They're super comfortable, very light and offer excellent protection over the long run. A simply amazing product!

Topo Athletic Fli-Lytes

I want to thank Topo Athletic, Hammer Nutrition, Gear:30, and my beautiful wife for all the support and encouragement. I think 2015 is going to be an incredible year!

Thanks for reading!

Monday, March 16, 2015

2015 Monument Valley 100: Rough, Rugged and Beautiful

I have been blessed with the opportunity to run all over the world. I have travelled extensively and have run in beautiful, remote places. Breathtaking places. Spiritual places. Places that few people have, or ever will, see. I recognize my good fortune and I am grateful for it all. It contributes to a life well lived.

I also recognize that I don't need to travel all over the planet to experience the beauty and adventure that satisfies my soul. I can stay home, in Utah, and find it all.

Monument Valley is among the long list of amazing places that can be found in Utah. Its history, beauty, and culture are unparalleled anywhere else in our country, and I was excited to line up for a 100 mile trail race that led me through this incredible place.

Traditional Navajo Hogan at Monument Valley

The Monument Valley 100 is an Ultra Adventures race, and is one of many events that they conduct in some of the most stunning locations in Utah and Arizona. This is definitely a "Bucket List" event that I wasn't going to miss, despite my already packed race schedule.

I was still recovering from the Jackpot 24 Hour race when I showed up in Monument Valley, and I had my eye on a competitive performance at the Pickled Feet 48 Hour, which lands two weeks after Monument Valley. My plan was to run at a very easy, relaxed pace so I would have a chance of recovery before lining up at Pickled Feet. I was going to be a tourist. Running, hiking and taking a lot of spectacular photos. This was a training run for Pickled Feet. My last LONG run.

Heading to the Start

The 100 mile race had a 7:00 AM start time. It was cold, probably 35 degrees, with a light, but chilly breeze. Pretty much perfect conditions for running, but we were assured that would change quickly as the sun came up. We were in for a hot day in the desert.

Before starting the race, we were treated to a Navajo prayer ceremony, followed by some beautiful native singing. We listened closely to the words, spoken in Navajo, and translated into English, before being sent into the desert on our amazing journey.

Navajo Prayer Ceremony

Once the ceremony wrapped up, we were set free to run into the desert. As people settled in, I found myself near the front of the pack. My game plan was already falling apart. This is a training run, not a race.

When we turned off the pavement and into the desert for our 36 mile out-and-back, I saw we were being led by Candice Burt. I had never met Candice in person and thought this would be a perfect time for an introduction. If I could ever catch her. That chick was SCOOTING!

This entire 36 mile section of the course is sandy. Very sandy. And as I would eventually learn, the other 64 miles aren't any better. Running through the sand was forcing me to push a 7 minute effort for 9 minute result. Frustrating and exhausting. I kept an eye on Candice and worked my way toward her.

Finally catching up to her, I made my introduction and we launched into conversation that would last for the next several hours.

This out-and-back was leading us through the Mystery Valley and onto Weatherhill Mesa before turning us back to the start/finish line. This route was dotted with arches, ruins, abandoned hogans and dozens of stunning monuments and formations.

Remnants of a Ruin

Time was passing quickly with the conversation and the scenery, but it was getting hot. The elevating temperatures, mixed with the deep sand, were taking a toll. We slowed to a more sustainable pace and faded back into the pack of runners.


Candice wasn't feeling great and she began a walk/ run routine while she sorted herself out. I stuck with her because I was trying to stay in "tourist mode" for this race and it gave me a good excuse for maintaining an easy pace. We plodded our way through the desert.

We made it to the base of Weatherhill Mesa and worked our way up the rocky grade to the top before darting out onto some rolling trail. The views were stunning, the sand was gone and things were looking better.

Top of Weatherhill Mesa

We finished the loop on top of the Mesa and headed back the way we came. Moving slower now, we could take the time to truly enjoy the desert landscape.

Pine Tree Arch

Wild Ponies
Selfie with a Candice Burt Photo Bomb

When we were about a mile from the mile 36 aid station, Candice and I parted ways and I assumed we would run together again later in the race, but that would be last time I saw her.

I exited the trail, met the pavement and headed to the start/finish line, running uphill. I was greeted by my good friend, Kendall Wimmer, who helped me get my pack off and refilled it while Jo took care of my gear changes and other essentials. I was 36 miles into the race and this was my first opportunity to see my crew. It was a very welcomed sight.

It was getting HOT.
Kendall Greeting Me at 36

Leaving mile 36, I headed the direction I KNEW I had to go. I scanned the area for course markings, found them and headed down a rolling, winding single track. I was feeling much better. I had an upbeat attitude and I was moving well.

This is a 4mile section before hitting the Hogan Aid Station at mile 40, where Jo would meet me and spend the next several hours as I ran different loops, always coming back to Hogan until mile 79, when I would make my way through the desert to the finish line.

At what "felt" like mile 4, there was no aid station. The trail dumped me onto a dusty dirt road and I continued following flags. I met up with another runner and I was whining about this section being too long. When she checked her GPS, she confirmed we were 5 miles into our 4 mile run. And still no sign of an aid station.

Just as I was beginning to transition into full-on bitching, I saw my truck coming down the road toward me. Jo was driving down to look for me because several runners that had been behind me had already come into the Hogan Aid Station. She explained that I had taken the wrong route. The trail I had been on wasn't even for my race! The aid station was still a mile down the road!

My mood faded because I added miles, lost positions and made a huge mental mistake that was going to cost me dearly. Bonus miles...they're always free!

Pouting and Kicking Sand into Hogan Aid, Mile 40

I came into Hogan, still angry at everything. We loaded up my pack with more water, stuffed the pockets with Hammer Gels and I got pointed in the right direction. I headed out...still annoyed.

This next section of the race was a combination of two loops. The 4.5 mile North Window Loop, back to Hogan, then the 9.5 mile Arches Loop...then back to Hogan.

I started down the North Window loop, trudging through more deep sand, cussing and pouting my way along the trail. I saw a table set up in the distance and assumed it was a runner checkpoint. When I got closer, I realized it was Navajo Indian selling jewelry...in the absolute middle of nowhere!

Now, I'm not really a marketing guy, but this seemed like a pretty odd location for a business. Especially considering the only foot traffic would be ultra runners and we don't usually carry cash for a mid-race shopping spree.

I hustled through the winding, rolling, sand infested trail back to Hogan.

Back at Hogan, Mile 45

Leaving Hogan again, I ran the 9.5 mile Arches loop. This trail takes me past the Totem Poles, several arches and some very cool petroglyphs. Like the rest of the course, it was daunting, sandy, hot and beautiful.


The Arches loop seemed endless in the heat of the day and I was struggling to keep a decent pace. I drank my entire 50 ounce bladder before getting back to the Hogan aid station.

After a prolonged stop at the Hogan aid station, I headed down the dirt road, bound for Mitchell Mesa. The sun was dipping fast and the weather was finally cooling off, beginning to resemble something comfortable. If I wasn't so exhausted from trudging through sand all day, it would have been a very enjoyable run.

Turning off the dirt road, I scurried up a sandy wash toward the mesa, hitting a water stop before the ascent. I could see headlamps bobbing their way through the night. I took a deep breath and tackled the climb.

I was nearly 60 miles into my run. My legs were battered, but I made the climb in excellent time. My legs seemed to respond well to the change of muscle use and I soared to the top.

Once I was on top, I completed another two miles before making the descent. Mitchell Mesa was beautiful at night. The stars and silhouettes from the valley were an amazing sight. I only wish we had hit this high spot during the day when we could have taken full advantage of the scenery.

I scrambled off the mesa and headed back to Hogan.

After reaching Hogan aid, I loaded up and went back out to the Arches Loop. This time in the opposite direction. Then repeated the same with North Window.

In the dark, these loops lost most of their appeal, but I wasn't really in "tourist mode" anymore. I was fading to "survival mode".

Coming to Hogan Aid Station for the Final Time

Kendall and Jo were waiting for me at Hogan, urging me to hurry along by repeatedly reminding me that I was in 4th place and the 3rd place runner had "JUST LEFT". This piqued my interest, but honestly, I was afraid of shifting my mind to "race mode" at this point. 21 miles is still a long ways to go and I just wasn't in the mood for the stress associated with trying to run this guy down. But I did tuck it away in the back of my mind. If a podium spot was meant to be, it would happen.

Let's not forget...this is a training run!

I darted out of Hogan and headed in the direction I was told to go. In a moment of confusion, I returned to the aid station because I couldn't figure out the route toward the finish. I insisted on launching into a delirious debate with Jo and Kendall about the validity of their directions, and they insisted that they were right. Unwilling to take them at their word, I had them drive down the road and find the markers for me, which they did. After a few short minutes, Kendall returned with very specific directions to the trail that I would be hopping onto. That's a good friend!

The East Mitten aid station would be my first stop on the way to the finish, and it was a 7 mile jaunt through the desert. This route was a mixture of jeep trail, single track and a fair amount of cross country path finding. It was obvious that the dude that marks the trail wanted to make this as entertaining as possible, because I was routed over the top of every peak and point along the way, making sure to include every challenging feature. It was relentless! Unnecessarily relentless. Annoying is probably a better word. 

Finally making it into East Mitten, I stopped long enough to check in, get a course update, and I left.

Somewhere in front of me was the third place runner but I hadn't seen any indication of it. I kept forcing it out of my mind.

I was now headed to Brigham's Tomb aid station, at mile 91.5. This section was more rolling desert, lots of sand and a few climbs that always seemed to deposit me into the bottom of an ancient SANDY wash. The climbs were steeper and the sand was deeper. Lovely combination.

The last section to the aid station was an out-and-back, that scrambled along the edge of a mesa. Rocky, loose material with a steep drop off to one side.

Shortly before getting to Brighams Tomb, I saw him! Galen, the 3rd place runner was heading my way, just leaving the aid station. We each made a casual "Hello" gesture, but that was just masking the sudden rush of adrenaline that we were both feeling.

I picked up the pace.

My experience at Brigham's Tomb was surreal. I made my way through an open gate, then passed a crowd of gawking horses and unkempt dogs, all eyeing me with great suspicion. When I made it to the tent, I swung the door open and was greeted by a dead stare from three Navajo men. We all locked eyes in silence for a moment before I blurted out, "Number 35! I don't need anything, so I'm heading out! Thanks!".

It was an awkward exchange. I assume they felt the same way.

Heading back out, I picked up the pace again, not out of a desire to gain on the runner in front of me, but more a desire to just be finished.

9 miles to go!

The trail was a mixture of meandering, undefined single track with areas of deep sand that had shifted and blown into a frustrating obstacle. An observer would certainly think I was afflicted with Tourette's Syndrome if they had bore witness to random outbursts of frustration.

At mile 96, I was confronted with an enormous sand dune to ascend. I was warned about this in the pre-race briefing but never would have guessed the magnitude of this monster. I started my climb, hitting numerous false summits, pausing to scream obscenities into the sky at each one. I never thought I would reach the top!

I eventually did, and then made a gradual descent toward the Sentinel Mesa Aid Station at mile 97.

The sun was just beginning to hint toward making an appearance when I arrived at Sentinel. Again, I stuck my head in, gave my bib number and pushed on after thanking the volunteers.

This is where things got interesting!

Making my way through the last few miles, I was running toward a large steel structure in the distance. As I got closer, and the daylight increased, I was unable to make it out. It looked like a giant piece of the Death Star that had fallen into place in the sand. As the terrain shifted, it came and went from my view and my mind was totally preoccupied trying to figure it out.

As I got dangerously close to the Death Star, I heard somebody yell. I spun around to see a light and a man coming my way. Thinking it was another runner, I sped down the trail. The yell came again. I ignored it.

When he yelled for a third time, I spun around and was greeted by a 20 year old Navajo kid holding a flashlight in one hand and a club in the other.

I've run 99 miles through terrible terrain, and there's no way I'm stopping now, no matter how big his club is!

Shit just got real!

Here's the dialog as I remember it:

Me: WHAT?!?!
Navajo kid: This is private property! You can't be here!!
Me: Wrong! I'm running a race with the blessing of the Park, the Navajo Nation and the local chapter! Look at all these flags along the trail! They were put here for us to follow.
Navajo Kid: (now shaking his club) But...but...a race?
Me: Yeah, a foot race. I've been running since yesterday morning. I'm almost done. I really have to go.
Navajo Kid: Yeah..haha. That's cool. Ok. (wanders off toward the Death Star)

Hands down, one of the strangest things to happen to me in a 100 mile trail run.

After passing the Death Star, I made a final descent toward the finish line, which was now in sight. After my short discussion with "Navajo Kid" my legs were rested and I was running very well. The 50 milers run this part of the course backwards and their race had just started. A long line of runners was headed right at me and as we passed, I exchanged greetings with several friends, each giving some form of rousing encouragement as we met. It really lifted my spirits and I smiled for the first time in several hours.

As I got close to the finish line, I became overcome with emotion. This was a feeling that was common early in my running career, but had faded as these accomplishments became routine or redundant. A combination of the beautiful scenery, tougher than expected conditions, and the greeting from so many friends had opened up something that I thought was lost. I was totally choked up.

Coming to the Finish!

I finished in 24:19:48, taking 4th place overall. Slow, but well earned. I dropped into the nearest chair and finally felt relief.

Dumping Sand for the 100th, but Final Time

This race is unlike anything I've ever experienced. It's an absolute gem in the landscape of 100 mile trail races in the United States and I'm elated that I ran it in its inaugural year. The beauty, character and hidden challenges are unmatched in this sport. It's a "must do" event for all ultra runners.

Thanks to Hammer Nutrition, Topo Athletic and Gear:30 for all the support. But a special thanks always goes to my beautiful wife and dedicated crew chief, Jo Agnew. Awesome work by everybody!

Next up: Pickled Feet 48 Hour in Eagle, Idaho. Expect big things, because I am! Thanks for reading!

Oh...as a side note, the Race Director says the Death Star doesn't reside in Monument Valley, but I know what I saw!!

Thanks again!