Slipping Slowly Into Pain

2015 Jackpot 24 Hour: Turning Circles in Vegas

2015-02-17T10:41:00.000-08:00

I don't run very many of these timed events because I don't envision myself as a "timed event runner". I like to see myself as an ultra trail runner...or a mountain runner. Running across ridge lines at high altitude is much sexier than turning loops for 24 or 48 hours.

This comment is not meant to disparage the timed event aficionados of the world, but rather to highlight my own delusional opinion of myself. I want to do epic things and amazing mountain venues, and do it well. But I rarely do.

The fact is...I love running in the mountains, but I'll never find the level of success that I do on those little loops. I need to find a way to accept my lot in life.

That point was driven home with force while running the Jackpot Ultra Running Festival 24 Hour Race in Las Vegas over the weekend.

I had no idea what to expect from this race and I didn't really look at the website and study the course. I knew a lot of my friends would be there, so I accepted that as a testament to the quality of the event and decided to run it.

My intention was to run Jackpot as a training run to prepare for the Pickled Feet 48 hour in March. I didn't have a goal going in, but I did give some consideration to a possible spot on the podium if all went well.

Vegas was having record breaking heat at the time of the race, so I spent a lot of time refining my nutrition and hydration plan. Hammer Nutrition is the race sponsor, so I had some comfort and a tremendous amount of experience with the fueling products that would be available at the aid stations. I planned to run with a bottle of HEED and Jo would always have another bottle available to swap with me whenever I needed it. The rest of my calories were going to come from Hammer gels for as long as I could tolerate it.

Jackpot is a 2.38 mile course, mixed with every fathomable running surface. There's absolutely NO shade and you can see the entire course from anywhere you're standing. It's a sea of sweltering bodies and hard running surfaces.

There was a bit of confusion at the race start. Nobody was really clear when they started the race and we all stood there staring at each other for a moment before I decided to run. It was never my intention to lead the pack, but somebody had to take charge.

We're Off!

Typical View of the Course

There were multiple races running at the same time, and there was no visual indication of which race a runner might be in. So as I began to get passed in that first loop, I simply assumed they were running the marathon or 6 hour event. If I hadn't done that, I would have felt the uncontrollable urge to battle for the lead...and that never ends well for me.

The first couple of laps felt comfortable, but it didn't take long for the heat to rise and my temperature to follow. The heat was going to be the deciding factor for a lot of runners and within the first 5 laps, some people were already fading.

Asphalt. The Enemy of the Ultra Runner

As the heat rose, I gave serious consideration to jumping in the lake. That was before I gave it a good look. I'm not 100% sure, but I think this is runoff from the Las Vegas strip, which means it's primarily vomit and spilled beer because it doesn't rain in Vegas.

That's a LOT of Vomit and Stale Beer

Because we all wore the same bibs, I didn't know what my position was for several laps. Around the 50k mark, I asked Jo to find out. She grabbed me on the next lap and told me I was in the lead. I told her not to tell me again until after nightfall because I didn't want to dwell on it so early in the race. Those things can get into my head and begin to dictate how I race. It was too early and way too hot to be worried about it.

My pace was comfortable, but solid. I focused on keeping my heart rate low while managing my hydration. I was taking a Hammer gel every other lap and drinking a bottle of HEED on almost every lap. That seemed risky, and I worried about my nutrition and electrolyte balance, but I kept it well monitored and it was working.

At the 6 hour mark, the course freed up a bit as the 6 hour runners were finishing. I also noticed a lot of other runners began to take breaks to cool off, hydrate and eat.

The attrition was beginning.

The 100 mile leader was running at a blistering pace and lapped me a few times by the 50 mile mark. I knew I was running at a sub 16 hour pace and figured he was well under a 15 hour pace. We chatted a few times as he lapped me and he looked solid. Then I began to reel him in as he faded. I passed him twice while he sat on the side of the trail trying to recover from stomach issues.

The heat was destroying the field.

I kept drinking and fueling, checking my physical condition for issues but there were none. I was patiently waiting for the sun to set so I could really begin to let go.

The runners and the crowd were all very supportive and I could hear my name being called from all over the course. People were shouting encouragement constantly. I loved the energy and feel of this event and it kept me focused. I felt like there were people invested in my success and I wanted to do well for all of them.

The Setting Sun...Now the Race Will Get Interesting

The Best Crew Chief in the Business! I Love This Woman!!

Photo Cred: Danielle Zemola

Jo and I needed to drive home right after the race, so I asked her to go to the hotel and get a full nights sleep so she could drive while I slept. We almost never do this because we work together and she keeps me moving like I need to. We got prepared for her departure by discussing our plan whenever I saw her at each lap. She got all my things together and organized her crew area, adding a Valentines Day balloon so I could find my things in my depleted and delirious state late at night. When she was satisfied, she headed to the hotel for some sleep.

After the sun fully faded, I began to push the pace even harder. It was cool and comfortable and running came easy. I was feeling fresh again and my lap times dropped.

Near midnight, I realized I was closing in on the 100 mile mark quickly. I ran the numbers in my head and discovered that I was going to have a 100 mile PR. I picked up the pace and burned my way around the course. I crossed the 100 mile mark in 15:22:52, a PR by 43 minutes!

When I hit 100 miles, the timer slowly looked up at me with a blank stare and told me I was the first person to hit 100 miles. I also beat the current course record by 18 minutes.

Hitting 100 Miles

At this point, I was about 17 miles ahead of the 2nd place 24 hour runner and I felt confident that I could win this race if I stayed smart, fueled correctly and simply kept moving forward for the next 8 hours. At times like this I keep repeating "Hurry every chance you get" in my head and it keeps me focused on moving with a purpose. I kept moving forward...

Late into the night, my quads began to ache and my shoulder was burning from carrying a water bottle for so many hours. 22 ounces feels like a ton if you carry it long enough. My body was beginning to betray me and I was fading.

As the sky began to lighten to the east, I saw my bride as I came to my crew area. I was elated to see her again, after a night of fighting off the demons all by myself. I got a fresh bottle, a gel and the sweetest kiss ever. Then I ran some more.

Jo is BACK!

As the sun rose, I was cycling through periods of high energy and total fatigue. I always felt "good" but I was having a hard time staying focused. I really just wanted the time to burn off so I could quit running.

By now, everybody knew I was going to put up a high number and they were pushing me and cheering all over the course. I really needed that support because without it, I would have simply walked until the clock stopped.

At the 22 hour mark, I realized I could hit 140 miles if I just maintained my pace, but it was going to be close. I needed 4 more laps at 30 minutes each to get it done.

I turned the first lap in 27 minutes. That was an 11:20 pace and it felt like 6 minute miles.

With three laps to go, I was staring at my watch constantly. As I ran around the course, it became obvious that I would get to 140 miles, but I had no desire to try for anything more. My body just wasn't willing.

Flying High! One Lap to Go!

With only 1 lap to go, I still had 55 minutes on the clock. I told Jo I was going to walk the entire thing. That comment was met with opposition. She insisted that I RUN every step!

Uh...OK?

I ran the last lap easy and chatted with every runner I passed. I gave encouragement and thanked them for the support through the night. The best thing about timed events is the camaraderie that develops on the course. We all see each other for hours, and sometimes for days. It's a unique experience.

My brain had told my body that we were almost done, so my body began to totally shut itself down. I was barely able to keep moving as every muscle started to seize up and prepare for its rest and recovery. The final quarter mile was excruciating.

As I made it to the finish line, the crowd was cheering and I was feeling elated. When I crossed the timing mat at 140.42 miles, they told me to head out and get as far as I could because I still had 28 minutes on the clock.

I declined.

They insisted.

I declined more.

DONE!

That was it. I didn't have another step left in me and couldn't run if I was being chased by a bear. Thankfully there aren't any bears in Vegas.

A Much Needed Chair

Winning the race was an incredible feeling, but I also set a 24 hour PR, a 100 mile PR, set both of those course records and ran a qualifying race for the Mens US 24 Hour Team. That's a long list of accomplishments for a single day of racing and I felt overwhelmed by all of it.

The Race Director Presenting my Trophy

I was thrilled with my fueling strategy and I know that it had a lot to do with my success in this race. I had blown up during my race in Brazil the previous month because I had made mental errors with fueling, but I corrected my mistakes and it paid off. I owe a lot to Hammer Nutrition for their support and patience.

I ran the entire race in a new pair of Topo Athletic Fli-Lytes. They're super lightweight and felt great. I had never run more than 12 miles in them and was thrilled with how they performed over the long distance. Awesome shoe!

What started as a training run turned into a lot more. I may not be the mountain runner that I want to be, but I'm enjoying my experiences in these timed events. At some point, I may just have to face reality and come to terms with the kind of runner I am, versus the kind of runner I wish I was. I can live with that.

Next stop...Eagle Idaho for the Pickled Feet 48 Hour Race. I think I'm ready!

Brazil 135+: Vomit early and often

2015-01-19T15:34:00.001-08:00

It's difficult to write about an adventure of this magnitude, while really being able to properly convey how incredible it is. While I had a terrible race myself, it still stands as one of the most amazing things I've ever been a part of. I'll do my best to help you understand why that is.

First, there's some backstory. The Brazil 135+ was originally known as the Brazil 135. The "+" was added when the race course was extended by 40 miles due to some "political complications". What's another 40 miles when you've already done 135?

Gaining entry into this race is a bit of a challenge in itself. Runners are granted entry through an invitation that comes after you have been recommended for a spot in the race by a member of the selection committee and then approved by the Race Director. Once all of that is completed, the logistics begin to take center stage.

First off, travel to Brazil requires a visa. This means you have to fill out forms (mostly in Portuguese), submit all of this with a substantial sum of money and hope there are no problems.

Then you have to start working on all the things are required for actually running this race. Being a point to point race, this means multiple hotels have to be arranged and booked. A rental car needs to be acquired, and hopefully, it'll be a car that can navigate the rugged 175 mile course. And most importantly, International runners are strongly encouraged to hire a driver, an interpreter and at least one pacer. And after having been there myself, I don't know what I would do without these people.

It's a lot of crap to manage from several thousand miles away.

Enter...Chris Roman.

Chris was central to helping me get into the race in the first place, and then jumped in managed all of the details surrounding logistics. This would be Chris's 4th time running the race and he had the connections to get things done in South America.

Everything eventually fell into place and we headed to Brazil!

Leaving the Comfort of the Wasatch

Jo and I flew to JFK, met up with Chris, who had flown in from Florida, and we all boarded the plane for the long trip to Sao Paulo.

When we arrived in Sao Paulo, we met up with one of our hired crew members, Sergio Cordeiro. Sergio is kind of a big deal in Brazil because he's been a professional triathlete and has done a lot of amazing things over the years. It's kind of like having Usain Bolt on your crew if you're running a race in Jamaica. The dude was shaking hands and signing autographs the entire time we were together.

I was happy to have Serie with us when we picked up our rental car because he's the only one of us that can speak Potuguese. Unfortunatley, he doesn't really speak English, si it was still a huge hassle. We eventually got it all sorted out.

Rental Car Debacle

Our first night in Brazil was spent in Americana, a two hour drive from Sao Paulo. We were hosted by Paulo Calil and his family. Paulo had crewed for Chris in the past and was scheduled to be our driver and interpreter for the entire trip. He and his family treated us like royalty upon our arrival and we wanted for nothing. It was truly great.

Waiting for us at Paulo's house was our 3rd and final crew member, Geraldo Silva. He's a 2:26 marathoner and would be pacing us, along with Sergie. Geraldo has a big personality and an abundance of energy. He seemed like a great choice for the job. After some food and sleep, we all loaded up and headed to Sao Joao da Boa Vista, which is where the race starts.

After checking in to our hotel and getting settled, we spent the remaining day relaxing and discussing the race.

Chris and I had decided to run together for the entire race. This is a very risky move because it means we're committing to each others success or failure. We discussed it a lot on agreed to accept it for whatever it might bring.

Out time in Sao Joao da Boa Vista was spent preparing for the race. We had to by food and supplies for the crew and runners, attend packet pickup, sit through a race briefing and try to fuel and rest as much as possible.

Fetching Supplies

More Essential Supplies

Side Note: See the dog wandering through the bar in the picture above? Dogs are a constant theme in Brazil. They're everywhere! Fortunately, they all seem to be very sweet animals.

Chris and I at Packet Pickup

The Entire Team! Sergio, Chris, Geraldo, Jo, me and Edwardo (Paulo's son)

While we were making race preparations in Sao Joao Boa da Vista, we got word that Paulo wouldn't be able to join us due to a family emergency. This would leave us without an english speaking Brazilian on our team, so he had his son, Edwardo, stay with us. He's a great found man and he speaks english very well. Things were working out.

Race Director, Mario Lacerda. He's Insane. Just sayin...

Me and Roman Working on Race Strategy

Finally, everything was purchased, the car was ready, the team was briefed and we were ready to get this thing underway. We all gathered for a final meal before the race and relaxed.

The Last Supper

By the way...I know this is a long blog post and we haven't even started running the race yet. So let me take this opportunity to thank you for hanging in there. We're getting to the good stuff.

The race begins at 8:00 PM, which has positive and negative aspects. It's nice to not be rushed in the morning and start when the weather is coolest, but it also adds a lot of hours when we're awake and not getting rest. I think this ultimately caused a lot of problems for runners as the race wore on.

Chris, Geraldo and Me Right Before the Start

Geraldo had decided to start the race with us, which I found interesting. There's no rules regarding pacers. They can run with you whenever you want them, they can mule for you if you need it and they can run the entire race if they feel like it. Geraldo apparently felt like it.

After the typical pre-race stuff, we off into the night for the beginning of a very long journey.

It was still very hot and humid at the start of the race and I was sweating profusely within the first mile as we ran through town, heading for the mountains. I felt like we were running an even, easy pace, but I also noticed we were WAY up in the front of the pack.

The first big hill was relentless and we ran the entire thing. When we got to the top, I said to Chris, "I'm not sure that was smart". Without hesitation, he said "It wasn't". We decided to walk the hills after that.

Let's talk about hills....

I've run a lot of mountain races in the United States but I have never seen a race that was this relentless. There's very little flat ground on the entire course and if you don't manage your race properly, it will crush you. When you factor in the extreme heat and humidity, this race is definitely harder than anything I've ever seen.

Bit of Elevation Change

And...here's where it all goes wrong for me:

From the beginning, I knew I wasn't going to be running at me peak because I had just come off my win at the Across the Years 48 Hour race 12 days earlier. I had run 202 miles and nobody can fully recover from that in such a short period of time. I wasn't kidding myself about this.

My legs felt sluggish and never loosened up, but I wasn't terribly worried about it. I told Chris that I wasn't running well and I just felt fatigued, but we expected this and dealt with it. Leg speed isn't what we need for this race anyway. We need the ability to keep moving at a slow and steady pace for a very long time. I felt like I could do that. Far a while...

I was sweating so badly that I was draining my entire 50 ounce bladder in about 4 miles. The crew was set up to meet us at 5. When I reached them, I downed a 22 ounce bottle of HEED and refilled my pack with water and Endurolyte Fizz tabs.

After being crewed at mile 10, I noticed I was getting bloated and I mentioned it to Chris. By mile 11, the nausea set in. I recognized right away that I had made a mistake and had ingested way too many electrolytes, resulting in Hypernatremia. I would need to combat this by drinking water to dilute the minerals in my body, but all I had were more electrolyte laden fluids and I HAD to drink. I sipped slowly and slowed my pace.

At mile 12, I puked. And it never stopped.

At the next aid stop, I refilled my pack with straight water and tried to settle my body down but I kept vomiting. Very quickly, I was unable to ingest anything without triggering more vomiting. I couldn't get fluids down and food was out of the question.

I decided to keep moving while we worked this out.

At mile 20, we reached the base of Pico do Gaviao. This a 3 mile climb...steep and relentless. I tried to eat again before making the ascent, but nothing stayed in. I left my crew and made the climb, dry heaving my way all the way to the top.

I had told Chris to take Geraldo and run ahead for this climb. It's an out-and-back section so we would see each other along the way. We passed each other while I had about 1 kilometer to go before the peak. Chris stopped and asked how I was feeling. If I had anything in my body, I probably would have puked just to properly illustrate things for him. I pushed on.

On the descent, I only had to stop once for a bout of dry heaving. I took this as a good sign. Chris and Geraldo were waiting with the rest of the crew when I came off the mountain. I sat in the dirt and whined for a while but that wasn't helping either. I tried to get some water and calories in me, but nothing would stay.

I was totally resigned to my fully depleted situation and decided to keep moving in hopes that I could overcome this. I had come a long way without any hydration or nutrition and we all know this wasn't sustainable. If I could eat and drink, I wasn't going to last much longer in these conditions.

I survived 9 more miles without successfully eating or drinking anything. Near mile 35, we met our crew and I fell to the ground. I had no energy and there was no sign of recovery. I told Chris that I wasn't going to be able to continue. I just couldn't keep doing this to myself, while simultaneously, ruining his race. He argued and told me not to worry about HIS race. His was OUR race and we'll get through to the end together.

Hearing him talk just crushed me. I quietly sobbed inside while I sat in the dirt on that dark road. I just knew I couldn't go on and I knew it was crushing him to see me like this.

Almost too quiet to hear, I just said, "I can't".

Chris got down in front of me with his hands on my shoulders and just stared into my eyes. Or maybe my soul. He stared for a long time before standing back up, grabbing Geraldo and heading down the course.

I was out of the race and I was devastated. Not only for myself but for all of us. Words will never describe the profound sense of loss that I had at that moment.

I piled into the back seat of the car and slept like a baby.

I woke up 2 hours later when we stopped to meet Chris and Geraldo. I got out of the car, still in my running clothes and waited for them to come down the course. I felt like an imposter out there. I had no business being on a race course in running clothes.

When the guys arrived, I helped to crew for them and settled into my new role as a crew member. This is the role I would have for the 120 miles.

The sun was coming up and the heat was settling in. Chris was running a good race, but he was getting fatigued and beginning to have some fueling issues. With me out of the race, Chris had free reign of all my Hammer Nutrition products and I was trying to get as much of that in his gut as I could. He was responding well to HEED and gels, but neither are designed for a race this long.

The course travels through several small villages and towns. We would take the opportunity to buy groceries when we passed through during the day. Ice cream was a logical choice for Chris in this heat, but even with a chest full of ice, it was impossible to keep it frozen. The heat was unrelenting.

Now that I wasn't competing, I was fully dedicated to helping Chris have a strong race. I took charge of his wellbeing and focused on his needs.

Chris and I are Pretending We're Too Cool to Notice We're Being Filmed

Geraldo! Unstoppable! Unless He Needs a Sandwich.

When Chris needed a little more personal attention, I was happy to jump in and run with him. This gave us more time to talk about his physical condition and our plans to keep him moving.

Chris began to go through a series of lows and highs, with the lows lasting much longer than the highs. Fueling was getting to be more challenging and I was starting to run out of ideas to keep him stung and moving forward.

Taking on the Role of Pacer

When the sun started to set on our second night on the Caminho da Fe, we were all getting exhausted. The night sky was a welcome reprieve from the intense heat, but it brought issues of it's own.

Caught Sleeping

Geraldo Can Sleep Anywhere

Chris was having vivid and wild hallucinations during the night. If I hadn't been so worried about his physical and mental condition, the whole thing would have been hilarious! When he pointed out to Jo that she had just stepped on an invisible teddy bear, causing it's stuffing to spill out all over the road, I almost lost my mind due to the hysterics! But laughing at Chris's situation would need to be reserved for later. It would just be rude in the moment.

DOGS! I love the dogs of Brazil!

Chris made it through the night and eventually into Paraisopolis, which used to be the finish line of the Brazil 135. Now it was just another town and happened to mark the spot where we had 40 more miles to go. And in all reality, the hardest 40 miles of the course.

Chris had been doing a bit of vomiting by this point. This guy wants to be me so badly that he's even started to puke like me! Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery.

I wasn't worried about his vomiting because he was still able to replace the contents of his stomach. It wasn't easy, but we made it happen. I was trying all kinds of food and drink combinations to keep him fueled. I was measuring his caloric intake to ensure he was getting his essentials, even if it was on the low side by this point. I was part mathematician and part nutritionist.

I'm Sure I'm Giving Chris Some Discouraging News About the Course Here

Chris had an enormous 8km climb coming up and I was focusing on making sure his body was in a position to manage the ascent. In my mind, this would be his defining moment of the race. Jo and I made sure that he was getting all the attention he would need leading up to final miles of the race.

Side Note: a 4x4 is really necessary for this race. PLEASE take my advise on this.

Typical Course Markings for the Caminho da Fe

Convertible HOKA's

Even though Chris was feeling rough, he never stopped for long. He was insistent on getting in, sitting for a minute, then heading out. Geraldo would often stay behind and take care of things for Chris, then run to catch back up. But Chris kept moving forward.

Geraldo eventually needed to be relieved and Sergio jumped in to take his place. For the rest of the race, they would take turns running with Chris. I was amazed that Geraldo was able to maintain for as long as he did. That dude is true stud.

Sergio and Chris...Moving Well in the Late Miles

As Chris approached the Break Leg climb, he was already exhausted. We had been working on preparing him for this ascent for several miles, but he was just physically spent by this point of the race. Before heading up, we loaded him down with ice water, gave him a jacket and put a headlamp in his pack. We had no idea how long the climb would take but we were just a few hours from nightfall and the climb goes on for 6 miles.

We had to drive the crew vehicle around his climb because it's not passable by car. We followed our driving directions and waited for Chris at the top of the climb. AND...waited.

I was sleeping when the shouting woke me up and I realized the sun had set and it was pitch black outside. And Chris wasn't here yet. I couldn't understand what the commotion was about because everybody was yelling in Portuguese. Our interpreter, Edwardo, yelled to me that they were talking about Chris. He went on to tell us that Chris was down the mountain and couldn't go on. He was vomiting and unable to continue. We all piled in the car and drove down the mountain!

After about a kilometer, I found Chris and Sergio standing in the trail together. I jumped out and checked on Chris. He was definitely confused, and somewhat delirious. He couldn't understand how we found him and what we were doing there. I explained what we were told and he refuted every bit of it. He went on to explain that he thought he was off course and that he thought they had been lost for hours. Because he can't communicate with the pacer, they had spun this massive web of confusion.

I assured Chris that he was still on course and he was fine. Frustrated by the situation, I put the pacer in the car and got loaded up so I could pace Chris for the rest of the race. I needed to be totally confident that he was ok and I couldn't do that if he couldn't communicate with his pacer. I sent the crew back to the top of the hill and we headed up behind them.

When we got to the top of the hill, we paused to resupply. Sergio was still in the car and I knew he was upset that I replaced him. He's a fantastic pacer and I didn't want him to be upset, but we were too close to the finish to allow a tragedy over miscommunication.

Geraldo grabbed his gear and joined us for the final miles, running ahead to scan for markers while carrying Chris's gear. We were pushing forward, fast.

With the exception of some course confusion near the finish, things went perfectly. Chris was chatty, but very fatigued, as you might expect after 170ish miles. I was excited for him and happy to have this time to talk about the entire experience.

Chris finished as first international runner in just over 52 hours. He now holds the American record for the original 135 mile course, as well as the record for the new 175 mile course. I couldn't be more excited for my friend!

Chris and Mario at the Finish!

Random Dog Picture!

The awards ceremony the following day is a huge production and Mario makes sure that everybody gets recognized for their part in the race. Including those of us who failed to complete it. I had never received a DNF medal before, but I like the idea.

Mario Hanging my DNF Medal Around My Neck

Lisa Smith-Batchen, Me and Mario Lacerda

Chris Being Presented With His International Winner Trophy

While I was obviously disappointed with how my race went, I can honestly say that this race was one of the greatest running experiences of my life. The adventure is simply amazing, and having an opportunity to be a part of a race like this is a dream come true. It was all made ether when Chris set his record. It was an absolutely incredible experience.

I also had the opportunity to learn a lot from watching Chris run his race. He's a tremendously strong individual and he's totally unstoppable. He's strong in areas where I'm weak and I can learn a lot from a man like him. It was a privilege and an honor to be a part of his race.

I'm definitely going back to Brazil in 2016 to apply the things that Chris Roman taught me.

Thanks for following along and happy trails!

2014 Across The Years 48 Hour: Back to Back Brutality

2015-01-03T13:14:00.001-08:00

I swore on ALL that is HOLY that I would never run another 48 hour race after my win at Across the Years in 2013/2014. I was badly battered, mentally crushed and terrified to ever put myself through something like that again.

So...obviously, I had to go back and run the same race again. Because as all ultra runners know, the painful memories fade and are only replaced with epic and fun filled recollections of good times.

This is the same mental disorder that allows women to give birth more than once.

(The ATY bibs are unique, because aside from having your name and state flag displayed, runners keep their bib numbers for life. I will always be 1167...assuming I ever run this thing again.)

Tactics and Strategy:

There are a lot of different tactics for running a 48 hour race, and those tactics are largely dependent on the specific goal of the runner. A lot of people have a specific mileage goal and they fashion their run in a way to achieve that. For most, that means they run and take rest breaks over the duration of the race. Most people sleep for at least a few hours. But to be competitive and have a chance to win, the runner needs to push through without sleep or significant rest periods. I was one of those runners.

My plan was to push a tough pace for the first 30 miles, putting a large gap between me and the rest of the field. Once I had done that, I would simply manage that gap for the rest of the race, adjusting my pace to keep a comfortable lead without blowing up.

While this plan sounds logical, it is a bit risky and it makes me look like an idiot running that hard in a 48 hour race.

When the race started, I jumped out to a big lead and never looked back.

First 200 Meters of the Race

Across the Years allows runners to start over several days. This means there are other 48 hour runners that are into their race 24 hours when I started mine, as well as several that have already finished and gone home. The same is true with the 24 hour race and the 72 hour race. Only the 6 day runners start and finish on the same schedule.

There were a lot of runners on the course that were running other races and I greeted each one as I went by. We're all going to be sharing this 1.05 mile loop for a long time, so it's important to get to know the other runners so we can all provide support and encouragement. This is a big part of ATY and other races with a similar format.

By my third lap, I was already lapping some of the runners that had started with me.

By mile 6, I had lapped the entire field....

...And by mile 10, I was in trouble.

My Damn Shoes!

I was already developing hot spots on the balls of my feet and on my heels. I had decided to wear my Altra Olympus, because I had a lot of success with these shoes at long distances on non-technical terrain. These shoes had a lot of miles on them already, but I was hoping to get one more long run out of them. Evidently, that wasn't going to happen.

I stopped at the start line and swapped into a pair of road shoes that I had wore on the plane ride down to Arizona. These shoes were retired long ago, but they were also comfortable and I hoped they would get me through the race. After only a few miles, I knew they weren't going to work either. My feet were getting brutalized and I was only two hours into a 48 hour race.

Then, a tiny factoid revealed itself from the deepest recesses of my brain. The Race Director, Nick Coury, has the same size feet as me. As I came through the timing area, I told Jo to find Nick and see if he had a pair of shoes I could borrow. When I came back through on the next lap, there were two pairs of shoes sitting next to a chair...just waiting to be slipped on my feet.

I had a choice between a Nike road shoe and an Asics trail shoe. I chose the Asics shoe, totally out of contempt for Nike.

I had NEVER had an Asics shoe on my foot before, but at this point, I had no real options available. Running in untested, borrowed shoes seemed like a huge risk, but we had to keep moving.

My Shoe Progression...Altra, New Balance, and finally Asics

The shoes were uncomfortable but my hot spots cooled off and I carried on.

I hit my magical 30 mile mark in about 4:40 and started to ease into a slower pace. I was using this as an opportunity to slow down and chat with friends and other runners, providing encouragement and getting to know new people. I was beginning to enjoy myself.

I was maintaining a steady diet of Hammer gels, HEED and later, Perpetuem. I also supplemented with solid food when something looked particularly tasty. I was fueling well and feeling great.

Yes...Beware of Both

The daytime high temps were comfortable, because Arizona was entering a cold trend. This was great news for our daytime running, but terrible news for what we would be dealing with at night. I figured it couldn't be any worse than Utah. I was wrong, of course.

Finishing Mile 40

The Beer Mile:

Yeah...the Beer Mile. I knew that there was a beer mile planned for 4:00 PM on the first day of my race. I had halfheartedly agreed to run it, but I was reluctant to jump in for three reasons:

1. I didn't want to waste time and lose ground to other runners in my race
2. I really didn't want to be racing for a win while I had a good buzz going
3. There's always a good chance I would puke, which I'm not a fan of

When it came time to commit, I simply couldn't resist it. DAMN THE TEMPTATION!

The Beer Mile was held right on the race course, so the distance would be recorded as part of our total mileage for the race.

Getting Started

I hammered that first beer fast and was off the line in a hurry. I knew I was going be chased by Patrick Sweeney and Nick Coury, both of whom are exceptional Beer Milers. Sure enough, they both passed me before I reached my second beer.

As I was about halfway through my second beer, my wife caught up to me. This was not expected. Being her first beer mile, she may have been a bit aggressive. I bolted, headed for beer #3.

When I get to my third beer, I could see Patrick and Nick in the distance racing for beer #4 already. No chance I was going to catch either of those guys. I was definitely outclassed.

Beer #4 hurt. This is the point when I usually want to puke. My gut is FULL of foaming beer, all distended and painful. The beer knows it can exit the same way it entered and it's my job to keep that from happening.

Struggling with Beer #4

Hobbling to the Finish

I finished the beer mile in 9:57, which put me in 4th place, just missing the podium! That's three minutes slower than my BMPR!! Not cool.

My Bride Celebrating Her First Beer Mile Finish

Need a Minute to Let Things Settle

2014/2015 ATY Beer Mile Runners!!

After some careful reflection, I realized that two of the people that beat me in the Beer Mile weren't running in the race. It seems to me that the International Beer Mile Association should have used a handicap to even the playing field.

I may file an official protest.

The entire Beer Mile and post race photo sessions cost me a full hour of actual racing. I checked the standings and I was still well ahead of the rest of the field, but I felt guilty for taking that time to screw around.

But I can pretty much guarantee that in the years to come, I'll be happy that I made that choice. We all have one life to live and we should have those silly and fun moments to remember. We can't be serious all the time.

Back to the Real Race:

The Course Was Waiting on Me

After the beer mile, things began to settle in. I kept moving forward as quickly as I comfortably could, but reigned myself into a steady rhythm.

When night fell, it got cold but I was comfortable with an extra layer. I enjoy the night because it conceals the course and lifts the monotony. If you choose to, you can imagine you're anywhere you want to be. When you run this long, you have to let your mind drift as it wants.

I was comparing this run to my run from the previous year and I knew I was well behind my winning pace from 2013. I comforted myself with the fact that I had quit the race in 41 hours last year and I could run the full 48 this year if I wanted to. But I didn't want to.

I finished 100 miles in just over 19 hours, almost two hours slower than last year. I was a little upset to be that slow, even when I considered the hour I lost in the beer mile. I struggled to keep the negative thoughts out of my head.

A lot of runners do the 48 hour race so they can finish 100 miles at a leisurely pace. When they reach it, they pack it in, collect their buckle and go home. I was in 24th place at the 100 mile mark. When I got to 102, I jumped to 7th.

Now the race was really beginning.

At the end of my first 24 hours, I was at 123 miles. Last year, I had been at 130. I was now running in 4th place and the people ahead of me were long gone and out of the race.

My eventual leap into 1st place was assured, and so was the win. Now it was a matter of how many miles I would end up with.

The Hard Times:

I was still running well, considering my mileage, lack of sleep and I was wearing borrowed shoes. I jumped into the lead around noon on day two and stayed focused on adding miles. At this point, there were only a few us that were actually still running, and of that group, I was the only 48 hour runner that could muster more than a fast walk.

But I did walk often, mostly when I wanted to spend some time chatting with other runners. The mutual support and encouragement goes a long ways in the late hours of these races.

Crossing the Timing Mat with David Johnston as He Hits 300 Miles on His Way to an A/G World Record. He's AMAZING!

The entire day had been terribly frigid, and when the sun started to fade on day #2, the temps began to become a problem.

When I'm sleep deprived and physically depleted, I simply can't stay warm. I literally threw on every layer I brought but still couldn't handle the cold. Staying moving at a decent pace helped, somewhat...but the freezing temperatures were helping me to lose all motivation.

At 36 hours, I hit 177 miles. This is when I decided to finish the race with a PR of 202 miles, then call it quits. I focused on that goal and kept moving forward.

The VERY Hard Times:

Near midnight, I stopped running and headed for the warmth of a race tent and the comfort of propane heat. Even with that, Jo wrapped a blanket around my body. I wanted to be with my wife and friends when the new year arrived, then I wanted to get this thing over with!

At midnight, we celebrated with a drink, some fireworks, and a kiss from my bride. I was beaten, battered, broken and bent on meeting my goal. I pushed out of the tent and back onto the course for more miles.

At 197 miles, I had to crawl into my car in the parking lot and sit in the heat for 20 minutes while I regained feeling in my hands and feet. I talked to Jo about quitting, but we both knew I would regret not getting to 200 miles. After a lot of procrastination, I left our warm car for the cold. And I ran.

When I crossed the timing mat at 200 miles, I looked over to the race timer, hoping for a smile of acknowledgment. He was asleep, wrapped in a blanket, sitting dangerously close to a propane heater. I envied his precarious position.

I pushed on.

I crossed the timing mat for the final time at 43:03, completing 202.61 miles. With 5 hours remaining in the race, I was ready to call it a day!

DONE!! DONE!!! DONE!!!!

I had no regrets with my decision to leave early. I had beat my previous distance PR, won the race and was still healthy and uninjured. I made the logical choice for me.

I was still running pretty well and if the weather had been better, I would have liked to go all 48, but in those conditions, it didn't make sense.

Jo and I went to the hotel where we slept for 2 hours before getting up to head to the awards ceremony.

Jamil and Nick Coury Presenting Awards

The awards ceremony is probably the best I've ever been to and every runner is recognized for their accomplishments. Nick and Jamil put a lot into this race and they do an excellent job at showing the love and respect for the people that come out and take this thing on. It's no small thing for anybody involved.

Winners Trophy and 200 Mile Buckle

I'm trying to be realistic this year. The odds are very high that I'll make a return to this race in 2015. I may run the 48 hour, or possibly drop to the 24 hour. This remains to be seen, but I know for sure that this race is in my blood.

I want to thank the Coury family for being such excellent hosts. The volunteers were amazing, the food was incredible, and I never got lost on the course. I can't ask for anything more!

Now...onto Brazil!!!

Brazos Bend 100: Running With The Gators

2014-12-15T09:14:00.005-08:00

I had the ambitious plan to travel to Louisiana and run the Cajun Coyote 100, then Jo and I would meander our way to Houston Texas and run the Brazos Bend 100 on the following weekend. Seems simple enough, right?

The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

Cajun Coyote was important to me because I had won the race the previous year and I wanted to have a solid race, and hopefully land on the podium. After leading the race for several miles, I dropped off the front, content with following for a while. At mile 21, I got immobilizing stomach cramps that ended my day. In the blink of an eye, it was over.

I licked my wounds while volunteering at an aid station through most of the night, helping others finish the race that I was no longer able to participate in.

Then I turned my attention to the Brazos Bend 100.

Brazos Bling!

The Brazos Bend 100 is held at the Brazos Bend State Park, outside of Houston Texas. This event consists of a half marathon, full marathon, 50 mile race, 100 mile race and a 100 mile relay. For my race, we would be running four, 25 mile loops through the park. The trail could be characterized as a mix of double track, ATV road and equestrian trails. Almost DEAD FLAT the entire way.

People sometimes confuse "FLAT" with "EASY". I have yet to see the correlation. 100 miles is always hard.

Uh....Excuse me?!?!

Pre-Race Interview for Ultra Live TV

I had two goals for this race:

1) Run a comfortable, easy pace for the entire race
2) Finish in under 22 hours

Aid stations are abundant on this course and you're never more than 3.5 miles away from your next opportunity for aid. This allowed me to run with a single handheld bottle (that I had to borrow from the Race Director because I forgot to bring one. Thanks, Rob.) Because of this, and because Hammer Nutrition was the race sponsor, therefor the aid stations would be stocked with all my favorite fueling options, we decided Jo would stay at the start/finish line and crew me from there for the entire race. I would only see her three times.

No pacer, no drop bags, minimal crew. Just a bottle in my hand and pocket full of gels.

At 6:00 AM. we headed into the swamp for our first 25 mile loop.

The sun was up 30 minutes later, which meant I had to carry that stupid headlamp until I finished my first 25 mile loop.

I was running deep into the top 10 for the first several miles. I was bouncing from runner to runner, striking up conversations and enjoying the run.

It's always hard to gauge the proper pace when you're on a flat course. My general rule is this...if it's comfortable, back it down slightly. The key is to go slower than I think I should. As runners began to warm up, I was passed by a few people but didn't give chase. We had a long way to go and plenty of time.

As the sun came up, it got much warmer than I was acclimated for, reaching about 70 degrees and very humid. Water was pouring out of my body and I worked hard to gauge my fluid and electrolyte intake, using Hammer Electrolyte Fizz tabs and HEED. I felt like I was drinking WAY too much, so I estimated that to be about perfect for these conditions.

With the rising temps, the alligators began to creep from the swamp to bask in the sun. In some cases, they were within a couple of feet of the trail. Because I had lived in Florida for so many years, I was accustomed to gators and they didn't get much attention from me. But I've also had enough trouble with them in the past to warrant giving them space and respect. You'd be surprised how fast a pissed off gator can be.

The trail was fast and smooth...for the first 2/3 of the loop. Then we entered a well used equestrian trail that was sloppy with mud and pocked with deep hoof prints. Footing was a pain in this section and I found myself slowing down to pick my way through the mess. In the areas where the mud had dried, the trail was hard baked clay with ankle rolling hoof prints, perfect for breaking an ankle.

I finished that first loop in just over 4 hours. That was a bit slower than my plan, but I hadn't expected to run into trouble on the equestrian trail.

Coming In...

Jo met me at the aid station to fill my bottle with HEED and give me a fresh supply of gels. I was in and out in just a couple of minutes.

Heading out!

The rising temperatures forced me to slow my pace on the 2nd loop. I felt like this was the most important stretch of the race and I needed to get to 50 miles, feeling strong. I focused on my fueling and hydration more than usual because it would be easy to fall behind in a race like this.

There are several "Water Only" aid stations on the course, but each one has a box filled with an endless variety of Hammer gels. In the early miles of the race, I was sifting through the boxes, trying to find my favorite flavors. As the miles wore on, I was just plunging my hand into the box, grabbing whatever flavor happened to emerge and jamming them into my pockets. Kinda risky, but it worked.

I finished the 2nd loop in 4:46, giving myself a 50 mile split of 8:54. I felt like I was right on track and I was feeling great.

Before heading out on the my 3rd loop, Jo handed me my headlamp because it would be dark before I made it back to the start area. Once again, carrying that stupid light on my head in the daylight.

The 3rd loop is where the carnage began to reveal itself. A lot of runners were depleted, behind on fuel or hydration. There was a lot of sluggish running and hiking. I made a point to slow up and check on each one, offering a gel and a bit of conversation before pushing on. This really helped to break up the monotony of the flats.

When it finally got dark...it got DARK! I tried to run without a light a few times and instantly went blind. And as night fell, the swamp came to life. Wild pigs were noisily rooting around and darting through the woods, gators were calling back and forth and all kinds of critters were dashing across the trail. Brazos Bend is an eerie place at night.

Finishing Lap Three

Photo Courtesy of Jeff Ball

I finished lap 3 in 5:22, putting me at mile 75 in 14:16. It felt slow, but it was comfortable and I was still on pace for a pretty solid finish.

The fourth loop was tough. My left hip flexor was starting to scream at me, not liking all the flat running at all. It seemed to flare up, then fade. I was forced to slow down when it acted up and try to take advantage of the times it felt better.

At this point, I had my eye on a possible sub 20 hour finish, but that would only be possible if I could keep a decent pace through the pain.

I was passing a lot of runners on the final loop. I knew I was lapping some of them, but I also suspected I was gaining some positions. While a lot of people lingered in the aid stations, I pushed right on through, sometimes not stopping at all. As long as I had HEED in the bottle and Hammer gels in my pocket, I was good to go.

I crossed the finish line in 19:43:12 with my final loop taking me 5:27 to complete. That time was good enough for 9th overall and 8th male. I was a little surprised to learn that the first two finishers came in under 16 hours!

Rob Goyen, the Race Director, was catching his first real nap when I came across the finish line and I didn't want to wake him up, but I also knew he would disappointed not to get a finish line photo with me, so we improvised.

There were 818 people registered for the Brazos Bend races, which sets a record for a single trail event in Texas. This is remarkable because this is a new event and it's only going to grow and draw even more talented runners over the years. I'm excited to see how this takes shape in the future.

This race ALMOST wraps up our racing for the year, but we still get to head to Arizona and run the Across the Years 48 hour race. Then it's off to Brazil for 175 miles in the hot and humid jungle!

Thanks for taking the time to read my report.

The World Needs More Traci Falbo

2014-11-17T17:56:00.000-08:00

Like a lot of us, Traci Falbo used running as a tool to lose, and later, manage weight. After losing 80 pounds, she set her sights on running her first marathon.

Since that time, Traci has gone on to win 19 marathons, finish the Grand Slam of Ultra Running, run for the US 24 Hour Team, break the 48 Hour Indoor Track World Record, and most recently, she broke the women's American 100 mile trail record by finishing the Tunnel Hill 100 in 14:45:26.

She did all of this after taking up running in her mid 30's, and didn't start running ultras until her 40's.

So maybe Traci isn't like a lot of us after all.

Traci Falbo is an emerging force in the sport of ultra running and she's an athlete that I admire and respect for many reasons. Most of which, is for her ability to illustrate to the world what a working Mother can do when she sets goals, remains focused and is willing to fearlessly follow her dreams and aspirations.

In a world where our young women are looking up to Kim Kardashian and Miley Cyrus, I find myself grateful, that as a community, we can turn to women like Traci Falbo as a true example of what a powerful woman really is.

And this is why I wanted to interview her. The world needs more Traci.

What attracted you to ultra running?

I started running to lose weight and had always wanted to run a marathon (bucket list). So, I lost 80 pounds and ran my first marathon. Gradually, marathons led me to the 50 States Club, the 50 Sub 4:00, 50 and DC, and the Marathon Maniacs groups. I started doing a lot of races in a year and started doing back to back marathons (Saturday/Sunday). Eventually, frequent marathon racing led to ultras. I ran my second 100 miler at Umstead in 17:02 and won. That's when I realized I was good at running far. I had never really been considered a good runner. After that, I caught the ultra bug.

You're crushing long standing records in timed events AND on the trails. Which type of racing do you prefer?

I like fixed distance events better. Timed events are so mentally challenging because no matter what you do, the race ends at some point. You can go take a nap, go out to eat, see a movie, and then come back to the timed event...well, nobody does that, but you could, so it's a lot more tempting to take breaks. A fixed distance forces you to run until you get to the finish, so it's more concrete and less tempting to be wimpy. I'm better on less technical surfaces. I can do technical, I just fall frequently.

It's unusual for an ultra runner to excel in both types of events the way you do. Do you train differently for timed races versus trail races?

I really train mostly on road and just run a certain volume per week. If I feel good that day, I just run harder. I know I should do speed work and hill work, but I don't like it, so I rarely do. When I train for something specific (the Slam), I make sure I get more trails and more hills, but I don't do them regularly.

When you race, what motivates you?

Goals. I set goals for just about every race. I set multiple goals and rarely hit every one, but I always go for it.

What attracts you to certain races?

I really do what looks fun to me. For my 50 states goal, I picked races that were in a cool place, scenic, and even a couple of times because I thought the medals were cool. I want to run Spartathon and Comrades, and redeem myself at Western States. I want to run in Italy for the US 24 Hour Team.

Do you maintain any special diet to enhance your endurance running?

No. I just carb load before big events.

You have a full time career, you're raising children, and you still have time to train and race at this high level. How do you manage all that?

It's a juggle! Thankfully, my family is very supportive. I can't run as many miles as many of the people I compete with because I simply don't have the time.

Considering your adaptability in this sport, is there any type of race that intimidates you?

Mountain Courses. I don't have terrain near me that's good for training, so I'm not good at climbing.

Who are the runners that have inspired you the most?

Ann Trason, Meghan Arbogast, Pam Smith, Connie Gardner and Ellie Greenwood to name just a few.

What's your most memorable moment from running or racing?

At 6 Days in the Dome, when I broke the American Record, they announced it on the microphone and most people stopped running and applauded me as I crossed the timing mat. I started to cry because I had just accomplished my dream goal of an AR. It was the only time I've been truly choked up while running. I had to push back the tears so I could keep running.

What advice would you give somebody just getting into ultra running?

You have to BELIEVE that you can do it! Ultras require stubbornness. You sometimes hit lows and have to will yourself through it. If you can mentally stay strong, you can do anything.

You own some of the most significant records in ultra running. Do you have your eye on other goals?

Wow. I don't think that, but I still want to break 3 hours in a marathon. I'm pretty sure I can do it, but I need to stop racing and do some speed work. I'm just not motivated to try it right now. Ultras are my passion.

What's coming up next?

I'm going to Desert Solstice to do 24 hours. I'm afraid if I don't, I won't be on the US 24 Hour Team this year. Three talented ladies have run a bunch of miles in the last two weekends, so I'm going there to increase my mileage number. Also, at the end of January, I'm running across the island of Puerto Rico with Joe Fejas, Valmir Nunes, and Charlie Engle. It's called Puerto Rico 150 (actually 180 miles) and will be for a charity, The San Jorge Children's Foundation. The race is open to everybody and also has a 50k and 50 mile race. If you want to donate, heres a link:

http://www.razoo.com/story/Puerto-Rico-150-Ultramarathon-Run-For-San-Jorge-Traci-Falbo?referral_code=share

And you can follow Traci here:

http://tracifalbo.blogspot.com/

The achievements of female ultra runners are frequently overshadowed by those of their male counterparts. As a running community, we need to celebrate the accomplishments of these women and serve them up as role models for the young, aspiring female (and male) athletes around the world.

Congratulations, Traci! You inspire me and many others. Keep up the great work!

2014 Moab Trail Marathon: Third Time's a Charm

2014-11-11T09:16:00.001-08:00

This is my third year running the Moab Trail Marathon, and after each of those years, I vowed to never return. This vow didn't originate from some deep hatred for the race or dissatisfaction with the event. I didn't want to return because marathon running is painful! Especially this one!

Marathons tend to breed a sense of urgency that I can't quite get comfortable with. The pain comes fast and stays to the end.

Ultras allow the runner to ease into the pain and ride the ups and downs over a prolonged period of time. That's the kind of discomfort I can really get behind!

My previous experiences with this race have been unnecessarily miserable, because this race falls on the weekend after the Javelina Jundred, which has been a mainstay on my race calendar for the last few years. I wasn't able to run Javelina this year, so this would be my first attempt at this race with "reasonably" fresh legs. I had high expectations for a comfortable day on the trail. Or, at least as comfortable as this nasty course would allow.

I wasn't fit enough to be competitive, so I opted to fall back into the 2nd wave of runners so I wouldn't be in the way of people that wanted to compete. As I watched the 1st wave leave, I instantly regretted not being on the trails with those guys. I watched all my running buddies file off into the desert as I got settled into the 2nd wave.

I looked around and knew...nobody.

I eased off the starting line and made my way into the desert. I was immediately being passed on all sides. There was some nudging and darting that I wasn't really accustomed to in trail races. I ignored the perceived urgency and plodded along at an easy pace through the wash as we started the long and gradual ascent.

From running this race in the past, I knew that we were beginning a 4 mile climb and I behaved accordingly. I made a wild, and highly accurate assumption that most of these other runners didn't know we were beginning a climb that long and relentless.

If they DID know, they were far better runners than I am. If they DIDN'T know, they were in for a big surprise!

By mile 2, I had slipped well back... DEEP into my starting wave.

By mile 3, I was beginning to pick runners off, that were now walkers, making my way back toward the front of our wave.

This race has a snag that most people don't accurately predict. The race starts with temps in the 30's, but warms into the 70's in the middle of the race. It's totally exposed and feels like the 90's. It was warmer at the start this year than it had been in the previous years I had run it, and I expected that to translate into VERY warm temps later on. As predicted, it was getting hot and a lot of people didn't expect that extreme transition.

The trail was becoming littered with layers of clothes. That was a new sight for me at a trail race.

We finished the initial climb and enjoyed a quick drop into the valley below. The footing is tricky here, so I took my time, making well calculated foot placement decisions.

I almost fell 4 times. I need to work on making "well calculated" foot placement decisions!

We came to the first aid station at 5.6 miles into the run, and I kept moving right on through without stopping. I was carrying 50 ounces of fluids in my pack and ample Hammer gels to get me to the finish. I didn't plan to make any stops today.

I was running well and feeling good. There's something about running in Moab that's very special to me and I always enjoy it.

I'm usually pretty talkative in the middle miles of a race, but I found myself lost in thought as the miles ticked off. I just ran and enjoyed the desert around me.

Somewhere around mile 8, I was pulled from my introversion by a conversation happening up in front of me between two men that I had been reeling in for the last mile. I found it to be entertaining:

Man 1: Have you run this race before?
Man 2: Nope! This is my first time.
Man 1: It must get easier now that we're on top of the mesa.
Man 2: I'm sure you're right.

I was tempted to destroy their assumptions, but decided to sail on by with nothing more than a polite "hello". They hadn't seen any of the hard stuff yet.

By now, I had passed most of the people in my wave and was working through the runners from the wave in front of me. It was getting hot and people were fading badly.

Near mile 9, we began to work our way along the most technical part of the course. This is where trail experience becomes obvious.

Yeah...This is a Trail

The final drop into the aid station at mile 9(ish) is a beast! Some sections amount to little more than a boulder scramble and the "trail" leaves a lot to be desired, in terms of a running surface. Despite this, I always enjoy picking my way down this stupid thing.

The best part of the descent is the frequent profane statement hurled into the atmosphere as frustration mounts with the runners. It really is a bitch!

I came through the aid station and slowed momentarily. I remember somebody having a beer for me at this spot last year. I scanned the crowd, saw no beer and pressed on. I was a little disappointed that the beer angel wasn't there for me, but it just reinforced my urgency to get finished so I could attack my own beer cooler at the finish line!

After the aid station, we have some easy running before starting the biggest climb of the race. As I started making my way up the hill, I paused to wonder where Man 1 and Man 2 were. I was certain they would be disappointed to see this climb and to learn that the hard part wasn't behind them.

After finishing the climb, we land in a sandy wash before getting to the slick rock maze.

I've mentioned this many times, but it's worth repeating. I get lost REALLY easy. I once got lost in a 5k road race and never found my way back to the finish. It's a real problem for me.

Running the twisting "trail" through the slick rock requires a massive amount of my attention. I'm constantly scanning for little flags, and because the ground is so open, it seems like all I see are millions of little flags going in every direction!

I hunkered down and drew on all my mental powers to make my way through this mess.

Side note: I ran another race on this mesa once and got off course 3 times, losing more than an hour. I had reason to be concerned!

The La Sals! I love them!

After the billionth tiny turn, I realized I was actually going to get off the mesa without getting lost. I started to make my way toward the river.

This is a mixed blessing because this trail isn't a nice, downhill jaunt either. This is a tricky bit of trail that requires a lot of attention. If you get comfortable, or try to run beyond your ability, this section of trail will take a toll, paid in skin and blood.

From here, you can see the finish line. But don't get too excited! There still an ample amount of punishment before the finish.

Rather than being directed to the finish line, we run past the crowd and are greeted by a special kind of hell.

I refer to the remaining miles as "Chutes and Ladders". We run up ladders (twice), through culverts (twice) and have some rope assisted sections that are manned by spotters.

It's not flat and fast.

Fortunately, I was expecting this and managed to keep my annoyance at bay, while trying to have fun. And to my surprise, I enjoyed it far more than in previous years. Probably because I was able to find some humor in the misery of others.

We draw inspiration where we can.

The last section of the race, as we circle back to the finish, is flat and pretty fast. I was still feeling great and was managing to run it pretty well, especially knowing the end was near.

As I was motoring along, I felt a sharp pain in my foot, then again with every step. I stopped, bent over and dug around in my shoe to remove the worlds largest, needle laden, foot penetrating thingy I've ever seen.

As I was doing this, I heard my name called. I looked up and saw John Fitzgerald walking my way. We stopped and chatted for a couple of minutes before I remembered I was still running a race. Off I went.

As soon as I parted ways with John, I saw my wife up ahead, taking pictures of me. My big brain drew the immediate conclusion that, if she's down here, she won't be at the finish line waiting to take pictures of me. Nor will there be a cold beer waiting for me.

Both realities hit me pretty hard.

As it turns out, she was heading to truck at that moment to retrieve some frosty beverages. I was running ahead of schedule, so this is obviously my fault.

How very inconsiderate of me.

This look means, "Why are you down here?"

Jo and I spoke for another minute or two, updating each other on how our days have been going up to this point. Once again, it occurred to me that I was still in a race, so we parted ways as I pushed on to the finish.

I made a mental note to NOT stop and talk to anybody else until AFTER I finished the race.

It was my fastest finish at this race so far, which I largely attribute to the fact that I didn't run a 100 miler the weekend before. Which is exactly what I had done in the previous years.

There might really be some truth to this "rest" and "recovery" thing that everybody talks about.

As expected, I had a lot of fun during my third outing on this course. It's easy to do when you're running in Moab.

This race isn't easy, but that shouldn't stop anybody from lining up and taking it on. It's a great bucket list race for everybody.

I was really excited to get my hands on an early release of the new gel from Hammer Nutrition, just in time for this race. Nocciola is a mixture of chocolate and hazelnut and is as delicious as it sounds. It's not overly sweet and has a great texture. It's definitely worth checking out!

This is my one and only race for November. I know...I can't believe it either! But, there's still a lot to do in 2014. Thanks for taking the time to read my report!

White Rim Trail Unsupported FKT: Alone in the Desert

2014-10-19T08:24:00.001-07:00

"You gain strength, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do." -Eleanor Roosevelt

I won't hesitate to acknowledge my fears, nor will I avoid ownership of my failures. Both of which are numerous. Attempting a 100 mile, unsupported FKT was a fear that held great promise to become a failure. But in my chosen sport, and the way that I choose to compete in it, accepting failure has become an inevitable reality. Accepting the high likelihood of failure serves to abate the fear, which opens the doors to all kinds of ridiculous opportunities.

In March of this year, I ran the White Rim Trail and set a new record for the supported FKT. You can read that post here: http://www.slippingslowlyintopain.blogspot.com/2014/03/white-rim-trail-fkt.html

The White Rim Trail favors my running style and it's the type of course that I can find a lot of success with. Even during that initial run, I was plotting a return visit to attempt the unsupported FKT. The current record was 27 hours and was held by John Stamstad. John set the record by pushing a modified baby jogger filled with his essentials. After running the White Rim, I couldn't fathom pushing a jogger over that terrain for 100 miles. I started planning...

The White Rim Trail is a big destination for mountain bikers and the majority of the online information is geared toward that sport. Because who would run a 100 mile mountain bike trail? Here's an excerpt from one of the websites:

"Most riders spend 3 or 4 days to ride this trail, spending the night at campgrounds. (Two days = Monster. One day = Lunatic.)"

So...riding this trail in 24 hours is lunacy...

The big concern is water because the course doesn't come equipped with any sources for replenishing my supply. This means I have to carry every ounce with me. In consideration of that, I began to track my water consumption during all my long runs and races, accounting for weather, terrain and effort. I used those numbers to determine my required volume and ultimately, the weight that would burden my effort.

Next, I had to figure out how to carry all my essentials. The solution came in the Osprey Rev 12 hydration pack. I already run with two of their smaller packs, so I was comfortable with the product. The Rev 12 provided enough storage for my water, nutrition, extra gear and all the emergency supplies I would need for running 100 miles through the desert. Assuming the weight didn't crush me in the process.

My Fully Loaded Pack Weighed 22.6 Pounds

Here's a list of the contents:
- 285 ounces of water (3 bladders and 4 bottles)
- 30 Hammer Nutrition Gels
- 4 Hammer Bars
- Flashlight
- Batteries
- Light jacket
- Gloves
- Headlamp
- iPod

My success was completely dependent on my ability to run with all that weight on my back. I spent time working with my gear and finding ways to get comfortable with the weight, well in advance of the run. The pack rode well and gave me the confidence I needed to go after the record.

I planned to begin my run on Friday afternoon, late enough in the day that I wouldn't be exposed to the sun for long. My hope was to do my most meaningful, and fastest running at night when my burden was greatest. By sunrise, I wanted to be deep into the 100 mile trail and carrying a much lighter load.

This Sign Marks the Beginning

Fully Loaded and Ready to Go!

Ready...Set...

GO!!!

As a 100 mile loop, I can start my run anywhere I want, and over the years, different FKT's have started and finished in several locations. I chose to start in the same spot I had used when I set the supported record back in March. I did this because it was familiar, but also because it gets the worst climb out of the way in the first few miles.

The First Climb

Running up the ascent was futile with the load I was carrying. I power hiked (a term ultra runners use to make "walking" sound more epic) my way to the top. Once I got back on flat ground, I was able to run well and I was making good time.

My route took me out of Canyonlands National Park and down the paved road to Mineral Bottom Road. This is a wide dirt road with a few rollers and a fair amount of vehicle and ATV traffic. I ate more dust than I care to have in my diet.

Mineral Bottom Road ends with a wild descent on tight switchback. The weight of the pack pushed through my body and showed itself in my burning quads.

At the bottom of the switchbacks, I jump on the White Rim Trail and re-enter Canyonlands National Park.

It was dark by now and the weather was comfortable for running, but it was a bit warmer than I had hoped for. I was sipping water from my bladder, being mindful of rationing. I made a point to adjust clothing and pace to minimize sweating. I needed to find a balance between too fast and too slow in order to make good time without running out of water and calories. It was a steady, mental battle.

Even though I had only run this trail once before, I fell right into a rhythm, recognizing landmarks and different characteristics of the trail. It was comfortable and I was running with a broad smile and I was feeling great.

I was fueling exclusively on Hammer Nutrition gels. I didn't have a strategy for timing my intake, I just gobbled one down whenever it felt right. I had considered incorporating HEED or Perpetuem into my fueling regimen, but they both need to be mixed with water during the run and I didn't want to take the time, nor did I want to run the risk of spilling water in the process. I had prior luck with gels over this distance, so I had confidence in the decision.

Around midnight, I ran past a couple as they were setting up camp alongside the road. Here's how that conversation went:

Man: Going for a little nighttime run?
Me: YUP!
Woman: How far?
Me: About 100 miles.
Them: (silence)
Woman to Man: Did he say 100 miles?
Man to Woman: I'm sure he was kidding.

Shortly after passing the camp, my headlamp caught glowing eyes right off the trail in front of me. As I got closer, I could see the eyes were tracking me and the animal wasn't moving. It was just laying low in the brush right next to the trail. When I got closer, I could clearly see it was a Bobcat crouched down, believing itself to be invisible. I stopped on the trail, 10 feet from the cat and stared. The cat stared back, turning its body toward me. I went on my way, glancing back a few times, watching the glowing eyes as they tracked my progress. That cat was a creepy little bastard.

About 50 miles into the run, I became very drowsy. I had been up since 3:30 AM, worked a full day and travelled to Moab for this run. My head was foggy, and the hallucinations started.

For me, hallucinations aren't terribly uncommon, but they're usually very mild. During this run, it was a nonstop barrage of insane images and sounds. There were animals darting across the trail that weren't there. Bushes and trees were leaping from the edge of the trail, trying to trip me. Loud, ringing cowbells nearby, despite the lack of cows...and supporters. People talking loudly nearby and the occasional 1940's radio show playing in the distance. It was maddening and I couldn't shake it.

Late into the night, my lower back began to hurt a bit, so I stopped, pulled my pack off and laid down in the middle of the trail to stretch myself out. Some time later, my snoring woke me up. I had fallen asleep as soon as I laid down! I jumped up in a panic, wondering how long I had been there. I strapped my pack on and ran down the trail. When my watch buzzed as I finished another mile, I glanced down to check my split time. It was 10 minutes slower than what I had been running, so I assume that was how long I was out. I could spare 10 minutes and I felt alive again, refreshed and ready to go!

I eventually made it to Murphy's Hogback, a dreaded climb with an even worse descent on the backside. I knuckled down and powered to the top. The wind was blowing and it was cold, but I had to stop and make some adjustments. My main bladder was dry and I needed to make the swap. My bladders have quick connect couplers, so I just unhooked the tube and connected to a full bladder. I was on my way in a few seconds, slipping and tumbling off the mesa.

The sun began to make its regularly scheduled appearance around mile 70. As the sky lit up, I could see there was a lot of cloud cover, which is what I was hoping to find. Without it, the day would have been unbearable as I tried to make the last 30 miles without shade or cover of any kind. I definitely got lucky!

Good Morning Canyonlands!

At this point, I still had one 50 ounce bladder and two 24 ounce bottles, along with plenty of gels to get me to the finish. I had survived the night and was well ahead of schedule for the record. I took the time to enjoy my run and revel in the experience.

The last several miles are mostly flat, if not, a gradual descent headed toward my finish. It was easy running, but despite that, I chose to walk on several occasions just to have a chance to settle down and relax. I had plenty of time, so I took advantage of it.

In my last FKT on the White Rim, I started just before sunrise, and this run began just before sunset. As a result, I was able to run in daylight, through the areas that had been dark on my last visit. It was cool to see the scenery I had missed during my first visit.

Around mile 85, it became abundantly clear that I was going to beat the existing record. I had been harboring a hidden goal from the onset, but I consider it bad luck to share this type of information. My real hope was to finish in under 24 hours, and now, that goal seemed well within my grasp.

I Even Had Time for a Hammer Promo Shot!

And a Selfie!!

I was clearly dehydrated, so I started drinking my remaining water as I got closer to the finish. I took my list sip of water at mile 98. All three bladders and all four bottles were dry!

The last mile is a rolling descent to the bottom of the Schaffer Trail, where I had started the previous day. I could see my truck parked at the bottom, along with my awaiting bride. Armed with a fresh smile, I pushed the pace to the end.

Finishing in 21:52:12!

With my added burden, my time was 4 hours and 5 minutes slower than my supported FKT. My secret calculations suggested 5 hours, so I was pretty pleased!

Prompt Rehydration is Critical!!

This will most likely end my relationship with the White Rim Trail, and I'm at peace with that. After two successful runs on this trail, it makes sense to end on a high note. Until one of my records is broken, but we'll cross that bridge when it's time.

This effort marks the first time I have ever run an ultra distance without my wife crewing for me and caring for my every need. She has been a mainstay in everything I have ever done in this sport, but she had to sit this one out. That was tough for both of us, especially because there's so little cell service on the route. I know she dreaded watching me run into the desert alone for 100 miles and her concern weighed on me through the night. It was great to be successfully reunited at the end.

Aside from thanking my wife for her patience and understanding, I need to also thank Hammer Nutrition for being such an amazing sponsor. They always step up for me and care about my success. They're a great company with a great product.

I also want to thank Osprey Packs. They're always right in line when I want to do something idiotic, and this run was no different. I definitely had the right gear to get this done and I owe that to them.

And, thanks to all of you that follow and support me. It means more than you'll ever know. Thanks for reading about my adventure!

2014 Bear 100: The Anatomy of a DNF

2014-09-28T13:58:00.000-07:00

Less than four years ago, my greatest athletic aspiration was to finish my first marathon. This was well before I knew anything of substance about trail running and I knew even less about ultra running. I perceived the marathon to be the pinnacle of athletic achievement and having a shiny finishers medal became an obsession for me.

On October 16th, 2010, I finished the Baltimore Marathon and got my medal. Largely in part to running with an injury, my finish time was 5:51:01. I was happy because I was officially a MARATHON RUNNER! Being really slow and a little pathetic was just fine.

All I wanted was the finish.

Killing Myself for a 5:51 Road Marathon Finish

A lot of things have changed in those 4 years, and the value of the finish is one of the biggest differences.

BTW...If you stumbled across this blog, searching for a step-by-step account of the Bear 100, follow the link below. It tells a story of a much better day for me.

http://www.slippingslowlyintopain.blogspot.com/2013/09/2013-bear-100-happy-to-be-member-of.html

I had run the Bear 100 the previous year and I loved everything about this race. The scenery is as beautiful as the course is brutal. It's a legit, high altitude mountain race that leaves you with an undeniable sense of accomplishment when you finish it. I had performed well at the Bear in 2013 and was looking for another great run in 2014, despite having run the Wasatch 100 three weeks prior, and the Leadville 100 three weeks prior to that. None of this is really new to me because I'm a "Bend it till it breaks" kinda guy.

3 Minutes Before the Start of The Bear

I felt good leading up to the race, but I knew my real physical weaknesses wouldn't be exploited until my body was really challenged on some of the major climbs. My summer mountain races had taken a heavy toll on my climbing legs, so I was entering into the unknown.

Or to put it differently...I was planning to do my last long training run for the Bear, while I was running the Bear.

I ran and climbed well on the first ascent, which comes immediately after the start. My legs felt tired but I pushed through it and climbed hard. Near the top, I began to feel a subtle burn in my left hamstring. I ignored it, but made note of it as I made my way up the mountain.

The first downhill felt great and I was on the same pace as I had run the previous year, which was really the best I could hope for.

As we ran the next ascent, the nagging in my hamstring returned, and was a bit more pronounced.

This is where I would normally write, "But the pain was outweighed by the beauty of the course and the intensity of the endeavor"...or something similar. But that's not true. My leg hurt and I felt it. The beauty was of no use in subduing it and the intensity of the endeavor was causing it.

Beauty...intensity...whatevs...

I began to get a little worried about my leg after the first aid station at mile 10 because the situation was deteriorating. It's not unusual for me to have some kind of pain early in a race, only to see it fade as my body warmed up and got into the rhythm of the run. Not the case this time.

I ran several miles with different friends and shared with them that I was having an issue. As expected, they all brushed it off and encouraged me to work it out and focus on the finish. This is what we always tell each other and we do it for all the right reasons. We want to help each other and see each other succeed. The support we give each other in this sport is one of the things that makes it special and it's something that I genuinely appreciate.

When I came into the Leatham Hollow aid station at mile 19.6, I would see my wife for the first time. As soon as I saw her, I expressed my concerns, but I was still hopeful this would be something I could work out. She helped me through the aid station and I was headed back down the trail trying to sort things out, both physically and mentally.

Coming into Leatham Hollow

Leaving Leatham Hollow was a tricky decision because I knew I would have another 10 miles of hard climbing and running before I had crew access again. If I had a legitimate injury, getting out of the mountains was going to be a real problem.

Side note: Have you ever had one of those moments in a race when you begin to ponder the actual cost of a rescue helicopter? Where you say to yourself, "If things go south way up here, this is going to cost me about $35,000 to get my dumb ass out of here."

Coming into Cowley Aid Station at Mile 29.9

I came into the Cowley Aid Station with a sense of desperation. I explained to Jo that things needed to improve DRASTICALLY if I was going to go another 70 miles. I fueled up and was getting ready to head out when I told her that my decision to continue would be made before the next aid station. If things stayed the same, I would drop from the race.

And this is the beginning of the big debate...

Deciding to DNF, regardless of distance or terrain, is a very personal decision and every runner processes this differently. After a few years, and 90 finishes at the marathon distance or beyond, I've decided to employ a tiny bit of logic when calculating the benefit of continuing on a bad day.

The decision to DNF is directly proportionate to the level of importance we place on the race. That may seem obvious, but in the moment, I think that sentiment is sometimes lost.

When I finished my first marathon, injured and slow, I only did so because the finish was more important than any potential damage or serious injury. If asked at that moment, I probably would have forfeited my ability to walk again, just to have a chance to cross the finish line.

And that's just a marathon! Throw a BUCKLE into the picture and the deep desire to push on is intensified by 372%...according to recent scientific studies. I wouldn't make that up. You can google it.

Additionally, there's a tremendous amount of pressure on ultra runners to NEVER drop. We're supposed to be tough and push through the pain without concern for consequences. Some people see a DNF as a sign of weakness rather than a calculated decision. That's a dangerous and irresponsible attitude. Another fact, fully supported by science.

Who Hasn't Heard an Ultra Runner Say This?

If you cut through all the crap, it boils down to your priorities. Here's a list of things that inspire fear in people when they ponder a DNF:

1. I really, REALLY want that buckle!
2. My friends will pretend it's ok...but deep down inside, they'll think I'm a douche nozzle.
3. Literally, every runner here that finishes...will beat me. How embarrassing.
4. They have blueberry pancakes at the mile 84 aid station. I love blueberry pancakes.
5. I'll never get that deal with Altra if I drop because they're the ZERO DROP SHOE!! Damn!
6. People will keep telling me that I made the right choice. Until I punch one of them. Then it'll stop.
7. Did I mention how badly I want THAT buckle?!
8. I won't be able to write an EPIC blog post!
9. It'll be an entire YEAR before I can redeem myself.
10. I'll never be able to wear the race shirt in public.
11. I'll have 12 months of people asking me, "Hey, you gonna take another shot at the Bear?"

Fortunately for me, none of these things were a concern.

I had run this race before, and I ran it pretty well. I had nothing to fear and nothing to prove. I have a long track record of finishing 100 mile trail races and I even have a few wins.

Why in the hell would I subject myself to a miserable time, slugging it out all the way to the finish of a race that I have already defeated?

The answer to that question is...PRIDE. While pride has a place in this sport, I suggest you use it sparingly.

While kicking all of this around in my brain, it came down to one final question that I kept asking myself:

"Are you having fun?"

"No. No I am not having fun."

Thus...These are my final strides at the 2014 Bear 100

I run long distance trail races for two reasons:

1. To have fun in beautiful places with awesome people.
2. To prepare for the zombie apocalypse.

Another eye opening, scientific fact for you:

So, let's face it. If I'm not having fun and I'm just going to die at the hands of the undead anyway, then calling it quits seems entirely reasonable.

My logic works for me because I run a lot. Dropping from a 100 mile race, even a race as incredible as the Bear, becomes easier after having completed so many great races. And it becomes even easier when I consider all of the cool things I'll be doing in the coming months. It's not a pressing issue when it becomes a fairly normal activity.

The opposite is also true. Dropping from your first 100 miler, or one of the very few that you've attempted, becomes a menacing, if not terrifying thought. That fear pushes people to different places. Sometimes it's good and other times it's disastrous.

My only advice is to know where your priorities lie, and what your values are, before making that irreversible decision. There's never a rush to decide your own fate on race day, so take the time to truly analyze your thoughts, your physical condition and your options for saving the day. Then balance that against the things that truly matter to you and your decision will be obvious. That's what I did in this case and it led me to the best answer.

It's soothing to live your life large and to feel the comfort of no regrets.

Jo and I have a lot of big things coming up in the next few months and that's where my attention lies now. Thanks for reading my sad story from the Bear. If the mood strikes me, I might go after another buckle from that race. If not, I can move on...with no regrets.

Wasatch Front 100: An Abundance of Vert and Hurt

2014-09-07T13:22:00.003-07:00

Getting into the Wasatch Front 100 lottery is typically followed by two conflicting, and immediate, responses:

1. "WooHoo!!! I got in!!!"

Then, only moments later...

2. "Oh no!! I got in!"

Please allow me to admit this publicly...I am NOT a good mountain runner. However, I love running in rugged places at high altitude because that's what I find to be challenging. I was nervous.

My nervousness was compounded by the fact that I had pushed myself pretty hard a few weeks early, in pursuit of the famed "Big Buckle" at the Leadville 100. I was nowhere near recovered or prepared for Wasatch, but why should I let a small detail like that get in the way of a perfect opportunity for an epic crash and burn?

Pretending to be Prepared at the Start

Heading into the Mountain at 5:00 AM

The race started out simple enough. We meandered down the rolling trail, choking on dust, while we warmed up. I was having a lot of fun chatting with runners and I felt good. When we made a turn to begin the first climb, those feelings of "fun" and "good" became a distant memory.

This ascent covers about 4200 feet of climbing in approximately 4 miles and is capped off by summiting the aptly named "Chinscraper Summit". Sounds exhilarating!

First Light on the First Climb

Photo Courtesy of Kendall Wimmer

In the middle of the climb, I caught up Kendall Wimmer, another local runner that I never fail to meet up with whenever we run the same race. Kendall and I are so similar in pace and finish times that I stole his split data from a previous Wasatch finish so I could estimate my own run times. It was no surprise that we found each other on the course.

Kendall Wimmer Heading to Chinscraper

Looking DOWN Chinscraper

Looking UP Chinscraper

The climb was working me over, but I kept reminding myself that this is the biggest climb on the course and once I got through this, things would get easier. This notion shows my own ignorance of the Wasatch 100 course. Things NEVER got easier.

I eventually scrambled over the top, tried to fill my lungs with air, and pushed on down the trail in search of the easier parts of the Wasatch course.

View at the Top of Chinscraper

I was greeted with the realization that once we topped out on Chinscraper, we would just run on over the tall peak to the South and climb that next. I wasn't expecting that, but off we went!

Up Next? Another Stupid Mountain to Climb!

After grunting my way to the top of the next climb, I enjoyed some leisurely running while we traversed the ridge lines for a while...until we had to climb over the next ridge...

Climb, descend, traverse...repeat!

Photo Courtesy of Kendall Wimmer

The first aid station on the Wasatch course comes at mile 18, just after descending Francis Peak. It's unusual to wait that long for an opportunity to whine about the race course to aid station volunteers, but what choice did I have?

Francis Peak

At mile 17, I began to feel sick and sluggish. My stomach was churning and I realized I hadn't taken in any calories yet. I was so busy scrambling around the mountains that I had completely bailed on my nutrition strategy. I sipped some water and gobbled down a Hammer gel trying to fix the situation. From a caloric perspective, I was in a deep hole and needed to dig my way out before my race was ruined.

A few weeks before the race, I had told a friend that the only thing that would prevent me from finishing Wasatch would be a mental error. This was that error.

I came into the Francis Peak aid station and took a few minutes to collect myself and get some useful calories in my gut. When I was fed, I walked my way out of the aid station hoping to recover along the way.

I wasn't going to see Jo until the Big Mountain aid station at mile 39. I decided to DNF at Big Mountain if I couldn't get my body back on track. I kept a slow pace and focused on fueling my body.

I eventually caught up to a group of local runners from the Wasatch Wranglers and decided to stay with them for a while because they seemed to be having a lot more fun than I was. As we approached mile 27, I saw an unusual sight in the distance and realized somebody was sitting on the edge of the trail in an overstuffed chair. Then I could hear the music playing from a radio...then a huge sign with my name on it appeared. I knew immediately who it was.

Our friend, Matt VanHorn, had set up a portable living room on the side of the trail so he could cheer for his friends in the race. His presence was well timed because I really needed a boost at that point and his classic antics helped to remind me to not take this too seriously.

VanHorn Just Relaxing in His Living Room in the Wasatch

Photo Courtesy of Kendall Wimmer

In another mile, we reached the Sessions Liftoff aid station. I had worked this aid station the previous year and was given a warm welcome by my fellow volunteers. They seemed excited that one of their own was running the race. Their enthusiasm continued to boost my spirits.

I loaded up at the aid station with ice, ate some gels and drank a few cups of Coke before shaking hands and moving on. I felt like I was beginning to feel better, but I was still in a bad place physically. However, mentally, I was doing great.

It took me nearly 20 miles of concentrated fueling before I began to snap out of my physical funk. By then, I had lost a tremendous amount of time.

Big Mountain Aid Station

Running into Big Mountain

By the time I got to Big Mountain, I was on the mend and feeling better. Jo got me into a chair and started to go to work on me. She handed me a new pack, fully loaded with everything I needed and brought me some food from the aid station. I gave her a quick update on the grim reality of my race and she hurried me off down the trail.

The climb out of Big Mountain was hard. I had lost contact with other runners and was working through these miles all alone. Part of me wished I had DNF'd at Big Mountain. I even stopped once and looked back down the mountain toward the aid station wondering if Jo was still there. Maybe I could catch her before she left and we could just go home? I shook that thought out of my head and pushed my unwilling legs up the mountain.

A Rare Example of Smooth Trail on the Wasatch Course

Over the next few miles, I began to feel great and was running with renewed ambition and energy. I was fueling and hydrating well, and knew I only had about 13 miles to cover before getting to see Jo at the Lambs Canyon aid station. I just needed to hold it together along the way.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

As I approached Alexander Ridge, I began to feel overheated. I kept drinking heavily to stave off dehydration, but my body was boiling under the sun. There was no escaping the heat because the trail was totally exposed. I began to feel dizzy and nauseous as I ran toward the Alexander Ridge aid station. I started to walk so I could reduce the workload on my body and hopefully cool off. Nothing seemed to help.

When I got to the Alexander Ridge aid station, I was wrecked! I kept myself pulled together because I was worried they would pull me from the race if they knew how damaged I was. I loaded up on ice and tried to cool off. I was pointed in the direction of a kiddie pool that they had set up as an ice bath. Excited, I ran over to it only to realize there was no ice in it and the water was warm from sitting in the sun. Just like me.

I headed out of Alexander Ridge, disappointed and worried.

Out of Alexander, Headed to Lambs

About a mile down the trail from the Alexander Ridge aid station, I began to feel pretty desperate. I staggered off the trail and dropped myself in some shade under a tree. I just laid there trying to cool off while deciding my next move. I dug my phone out and sent a text message to Jo, telling her I was in trouble and probably wouldn't be able to continue.

I laid under that tree and weighed my options. A DNF sounded delicious, but the sting of failure seemed like it would be too much to bear. I eventually decided to get up, get back on the trail and head toward the Lambs Canyon aid station. I could make up my mind along the way.

Here are the four thoughts that probably kept me from dropping:

1. I had pacers waiting for me and they took time out of their lives to be here.
2. I didn't want to spend the next 3 weeks listening to people telling me I "did the right thing".
3. I had cleared my social calendar for this race and nothing else to do later.
4. If I dropped, I would have to come back next year, and that was probably enough to keep me going!

As I was heading toward Lambs Canyon, the sun began to dip and the air temperature dropped. I began to feel much better and started to run again. Then I ran faster. For the first time in about 50 miles, I started to think there was a chance to actually finish this race.

Being Greeted as I Came into Lambs

When I arrived at Lambs, I was greeted by my crew and several friends that were were waiting for their runners. Jo and my pacer, Jen, went to work on me to get me cooled off, fed, and geared up for the next long push into the mountains.

I had planned to make it to Lambs Canyon in 12 hours. It took me 14.

I was overwhelmed by the care and attention I got as well as the encouragement that came my way. I was beginning to feel like I was fully back on track. Again.

Yeah...That's a Flower in My Hair, Cuz I'm Cool Like That

Getting Ready to Leave Lambs

Jen would be pacing me from Lambs Canyon to Brighton. In my mind, this was the most important part of the race. I knew if I could get to Brighton, and was still somewhat mobile, I would make to the finish.

As soon as we left the aid station, Jen and I began a long, grueling ascent toward Upper Big Water. I was happy to have company again and we chatted, whined and whimpered our way up the mountain.

Admittedly, most of the whining and whimpering came from me.

Jen had printed out the detailed course description and kept me totally informed regarding whatever impending misery was headed my way.

The sun eventually faded entirely and we continued our run under the glare of our headlamps. We pushed through Upper Big Water and headed toward Desolation Lake.

Jen and I were running down the trail making small talk when I heard something thrashing in the brush near the trail. I shot my headlamp in that direction and caught the gaze of an enormous bull moose, chewing on some brush. I slammed on the brakes and showed it to Jen. Then my headlamp caught a second bull moose. Were we surrounded? They were staring at us pretty intently while we stood there and stared back. Enlisting an age old defense mechanism, Jen began to speak to them in sweet sounding, slightly hushed tones. In English, because it was obvious these moose were local. As Jen kept them entranced with her words, I led us in a wide arch, off the trail and around these beasts. Once we were far enough away, we ran.

Jen and I made it into the Desolation Lake aid station where I fueled up and rested my legs for a few minutes. Four minutes to be precise, because Jen was dragging me back out of the aid station before I got too comfortable. She was pretty demanding.

I was feeling better at this point of the race than I had at any other time. Jen and I made the big climbs, hurried down the descents and did everything we could to make good time through the mountains.

Before I knew it, we were rolling into the Brighton aid station at mile 75.

Coming into Brighton

I lingered in Brighton for a while because the aid station was filled with friends and bustling with activity. I ate some food and chatted for a bit before heading out. I didn't want to linger too long, because Brighton is often referred to as "The Morgue".

Jen was done pacing and I was picking up my second pacer, Jason Brockman. We suited up and headed into the mountains together.

Me and Jason Heading Out of Brighton

Things didn't get off to a great start. As soon as we left the aid station to begin a long climb, we were lost. There were no course markings at the first trail junction and we had no idea where to go. I had no interest in wandering around the mountainside lost, so Jason ran back to the aid station to get directions.

When Jason returned, we headed up the mountain, hopefully in the right direction.

Despite our best efforts, we did get off course. Fortunately, a group of trail runners saw our bobbing headlamps as we bumbled around in the woods and got us redirected. Back on track, we continued the climb.

The climb wasn't terrible, but the descent was. We navigated the steep terrain and loose rock for an eternity as Jason got a lesson in the depth of my vocabulary.

The next several miles were much the same. A big climb on rough trail, followed by a steep descent on an even rougher trail.

As Jason and I made our way down the trail, I began to feel sleepy and I had to keep the conversation going just to stay awake. I was completely drained and only focused on getting this race finished.

The sun eventually made its appearance and I turned my headlamp off and stowed it away. I've run a lot of 100 mile trail races and this is only the second time I've ever seen the sun come up while I was running. It served as a reminder of how long and hard I had been working at this.

To save time, Jason and I had stopped visiting the aid stations. I was relying on the Hammer products I was carrying in my pack. I was so eager to be finished, I didn't want to waste any time at all. Jason would run into the aid station, give them my number and then hustle down the trail to catch back up to me.

We rolled through the Decker Canyon aid station and stepped out onto the gravel path that would eventually take us to the finish line about 6 miles away.

That was the longest 6 miles of my life. This is a multi-use path that winds into canyons as it hugs the side of the mountains. Every time we emerged around a corner, I expected to see the finish line. Every time, I was met by disappointment.

I was trying to push the pace as hard as I could but eventually got discouraged when the finish line continued to elude me. I was deeply frustrated.

The gravel path eventually made way for a paved road with trail markers on it. After rounding a corner, I could see the finish line and I gave one final push with everything I had in me.

I crossed the Wasatch Front 100 finish line in 28:37:09.

Being Greeted at the Finish!

She Makes it Happen for Me!

Driving home from the finish of the Wasatch 100 takes us up the freeway, along the route that I had just finished running. It wasn't until that drive that I realized the magnitude of that run. It covered a tremendous amount of terrain in some of the most rugged country out west. From that perspective, it seemed almost impossible.

I was delighted with the finish, but disappointed in the errors that slowed me down. In every small failure, lies a lesson and I think I have learned mine.

I need to thank Jen and Jason for their selfless efforts to get me through this difficult race. It takes special people to commit to something like that. You guys are incredible!

I'm taking a few days to enjoy the accomplishment before turning my focus to the Bear 100, which is only three weeks away. Time to learn more lessons.

Thanks for reading.

2014 Leadville Trail 100: Chasing the Big Buckle

2014-08-18T19:58:00.002-07:00

"What you perceive as failure today may actually be a crucial step towards the success you seek. Never give up."

- Richelle E. Goodrich

That quote is what kept me going for so long. It encouraged me to "Dig Deep" when I fell short. It helped me to maintain focus, to train and to stay diligent in my preparations to conquer defeat and return in the hopes of achieving my goals.

That's right! That quote helped me to finally find my proper place on the podium at the Leadville Beer Mile!!

Last year was the inaugural Leadville Beer Mile, and faced with a stacked field and lack of proper conditioning, I was only able to muster a measly 5th place finish. Rather than slinking away in shame, I held my head high, made plans for redemption, and returned a year later to exact my revenge!

The Start of the Beer Mile

Photo by Abby Dunn

To the common spectator, the Beer Mile may seem like pure silliness, but I can assure you, it's serious business! It requires an equal mixture of athletic prowess, advanced beer drinking ability and a total control of your natural gag reflex. These are all ingredients that combine to make the perfect athlete.

Trying to Breathe

I could write poetically for hours on the topic of all the brave Beer Milers that have made valuable contributions to society, but the topic is so advanced, and somewhat polarizing, that it's best if I just summarize my experience...

3rd place at the Leadville Beer Mile is a feat that may never be bested and I'm cool with that! Training and perseverance paid off. Next year...I'm aiming for the WIN!

Why, YES! I Think I WILL Have Another!

Photo by Abby Dunn

As a matter of coincidence, that same determination to meet my relentlessly unfounded and sometimes unrealistic expectations, is also what has kept me coming back to the Leadville 100 for the last four years.

When I ran my first Leadville 100 in 2011 (also my first 100 miler), I had a goal of finishing the race in under 25 hours. I had absolutely no reason to expect that finish time, but it was my goal nonetheless. I found no small amount of disappointment when I finished in 25:50 that year. I vowed to return the following year and avenge my meaningless and self imposed failure.

Returning in 2012, a much smarter runner with several 100 milers under my belt, I went on to post a time of 28:30. So much for course knowledge and training!

Back in 2013, now a veteran 100 miler, I went on to post a time of 26:19!!! Things weren't getting any better.

In preparation for my 2014 race, I actually took the time to review my tactics and came to the conclusion that my finish times MAY (no scientific evidence) be impacted by the fact that I always run an ultra the weekend before Leadville. So in 2014, I decided to take that weekend off for rest.

The sacrifices we make to meet our goals are sometimes unbearable.

Me and My Good Friend, Rob Goekermann Lined up for the Leadville 100

Leadville is comfortable. It's familiar ground by now and there is no fear of the unknown. I wasn't nervous about the race, but I was a little annoyed that I was STILL chasing a sub 25 hour finish. My butterflies had been replaced by a sense of annoyance that I was once again, lining up for the race that kept defeating me. I would rather have butterflies.

Here We Go! Again!

As we set off, leaving Leadville at 4:00 AM, I felt like I had a solid plan for success. I planned to run slow early, in hopes of being fast later. I had never attempted such contradictory race strategy, but nothing else was working so I went with it.

As we rolled down the Boulevard, leaving the dimly lit town in our dust, I maintained that focus. "Stay slow, to be FAST". I slipped to unfamiliar territory in the middle of the pack and tried to blend in by making casual conversation about the virtues of barefoot running, Paleo diets and crossfit, all popular topics based on my casual observation.

I rolled through the Tabor Boat Ramp, swapping bottles and getting some direction from my bride. Again, a very familiar feeling. Things were a little slower than normal, but all is well.

Reaching the May Queen aid station, about 10 minutes off my normal pace, I change the bottles out for a pack filled with Hammer Endurolyte Fizz and Montana Huckleberry gels and took a fresh bottle of HEED. Jo and I exchange a few words as she walks me toward the trailhead, a quick kiss and I'm through mile 13.5, feeling good.

The change in race strategy made everything feel different, but that was ok because I needed this race to be different. I needed to be better, and up until now, the same old strategy wasn't working. Fighting instinct, I stayed the course and followed the plan. "Stay slow, to be FAST".

Heading UP Sugarloaf

In previous years I had run hard up the Sugarloaf ascent, especially when the cameras were busy capturing my athleticism and ultimate demise. This year, I walked more. A lot more. Focusing on conservation and finding a way to be satisfied by being passed...stay focused...be humble...a constant mantra.

The Famous and VERY Ugly Powerline Descent

After finishing the ascent up Sugarloaf and meandering down Powerline like an old man, I rolled along the short section of asphalt towards the Outward Bound aid station.

Coming Into Outward Bound

Photo by Denise Ricks

Jo had a fresh hydration pack waiting for me, fully loaded and ready to go. We swapped packs, gave all the essential updates and parted ways. We were both smiling still, so I knew things were going better than normal.

Photo by Denise Ricks

Outbound from Outward Bound

Photo by Denise Ricks

Leaving Outward Bound, I knew I wouldn't see Jo for about 4 hours as I made my way to Twin Lakes. I settled in, head down and slowly picked my way toward our next rendezvous.

Half Pipe Aid Station

I rolled through the Half Pipe aid station with no intention of lingering. I topped my pack off with some water and continued my relentless trudge toward Twin Lakes.

After some typical Jeep road, we veered onto the Colorado Trail for some fun along it's inviting single track.

The Colorado Trail

As always, I could hear the ruckus of the Twin Lakes aid station well in advance of my arrival. Fortunately, I know the trail well enough to realize I have some distance to cover before beginning to relish in the idea of Hope Pass.

I was settled into a comfortable run and taking my time!

Dropping into Twin Lakes

The Twin Lakes aid station is my ALL time favorite aid station. The crowd is intense, the volunteers are incredible and the thought of these things diminishes the reality of the upcoming climb.

Jo was ready for me when I arrived. She fed me an ice cold bottle of HEED, swapped my packs out and gave me all the mental and emotional encouragement I could have asked for.

Multitasking at Twin Lakes

Photo by Denise Ricks

Jo and I Walking Toward Hope Pass

Photo by Denise Ricks

Leaving Twin Lakes, I fell into a leisurely gait through the meadows leading toward the Arkansas River, and eventually, Hope Pass. The river levels were high this year and the meadow was flooded, leaving standing water between me and the start of my ascent. I trudged along.

Arkansas River Crossing

My ascent up Hope Pass was nothing short of typical. I would love to say that I powered straight up the mountain, leaving trail runners in my wake, but that simply didn't happen.

I hiked. Slowly.

There was a lot of shuffling of the field on the climb. People falling away, others surging ahead. I was steady! Slow....and steady.

I eventually broke through the tree line, revealing the Hopeless aid station and it's team of llamas that graciously pack the aid station supplies to 12,000 plus feet.

Llamas...Doing What Llamas do, I Guess

More Llama Action

The novice Leadville runner will associate the aid station with the end of the ascent. WRONG! Still plenty of sweating and swearing before cresting the top of Hope Pass. PLENTY!

Finally Reaching Hope Pass

Photo by Caleb Wilson

The descent toward Winfield was just as I had nightmared many times before. Steep, rocky, crowded, exposed and steep. Wait...I said "steep" twice. Whatever, it's probably fitting.

Coming into Winfield

I reached Winfield about 15 minutes slower than normal, but I also felt much more comfortable than I usually do. I was still moving well and feeling good.

Stay slow to be fast!

Being Greeted by The Best

Photo by Denise Ricks

I stayed in Winfield for a few minutes while I fueled up, hydrated and assessed the situation.

It was HOT out, so I hydrated more. I was hungry, so I ate. My legs were sore, so I rested them. None of this is complicated stuff, but you sometimes need to stop and focus on your needs before moving on. Something I frequently forget to do.

Getting Ready to Start the Return

Photo by Denise Ricks

I was also picking up my talented pacer, Justin Ricks. Justin is an incredible runner with a lot of knowledge and insight about the sport and I was elated to have him help me over the pass.

Me, Jo and Justin Rolling Out

Photo by Denise Ricks

Justin had his work cut out for him. Admittedly, I'm a giant freaking baby when I climb Hope Pass, inbound. I warned Justin of this reality in advance, so any complaining coming from him would be totally unwarranted. He was warned!

I planned to focus on keeping my heart rate down on the climb, so I stopped frequently to let it settle. I was also battling a sour stomach, so stopping wasn't really an option anyway. If I had pushed the ascent too hard, I was going to puke. Justin, being a savvy and experienced vomiter, was willing to take all the time we needed.

The climb was slow, but it always is.

Justin provided constant encouragement as we made the climb. His words were appropriate and timely. He kept me moving with a gentle hand, and through him, we made steady progress.

Justin and I Topping Out at Hope Pass

Photo by Caleb Wilson

Justin, proving that he had keen skills with a watch and an eye for fueling tendencies, reminded me repeatedly that I hadn't been eating enough. My stomach was fine with not eating, but my body needed nourishment. As we dropped into the Hopeless aid station, we arranged my dinner plan. I wanted Coke and mashed potatoes. I ended up with a cheap Coke alternative and some noodles. My stomach did not agree with the menu items.

Hopeless Aid Station

We didn't linger long before finishing our descent towards Twin Lakes. We made conversation as I picked my way off the mountain. Eventually, I began to feel better and we ran more. Then we ran harder.

Twin Lakes

Coming into Twin Lakes

Photo by Denise Ricks

Justin would be done pacing me at Twin Lakes. But before he wrapped up, he helped get me seated, fed and ready for nighttime running. I chugged some HEED, ate some aid station food and took the time I needed to properly prepare for the evening ahead.

I can't thank Justin enough for the excellent work he did for me. Pacing is a selfless act and I know I would have suffered severely if it wasn't for his encouragement and support.

Fuel UP!

Photo by Denise Ricks

Jo Leading Me Toward Leadville

Photo by Denise Ricks

I had a little less than 10 hours to make it back to Leadville to claim my "BIG" Buckle. A 14:45 pace would seal the deal, but that certainly wasn't a sure thing. Not at Leadville and not with my track record. Nonetheless, I was damn sure gonna try.

I made the gradual ascent toward the Colorado Trail. I had focused on conservation in the early miles, but I slowly began to spend all that I had saved away. I pushed my way up the mountain, letting my energy go. I was making good time and feeling strong.

I eventual reached the tipping point of the climb and began a smooth, gradual descent toward Treeline. I ran, letting my legs fly. In past years, I would have been walking most of this. Not this year.

"Stay slow, to be fast" had paid off and I was reaping the benefits.

I flew through the Half Pipe aid station, topping off with fluids, Hammering a gel and I was off, headed toward Outward Bound.

My feet hit the pavement that leads me to the aid station. I remembered walking that section the last three years of the race, the misery of shuffling down the road as race crew traffic poured by, blinding me with their headlamps.

This year, I ran.

When I reached the Outward Bound aid station, I took time to fuel up, chat with Jo and make sure my gear was squared away for the climb up Powerline. After a few quick minutes, I was on the road again.

Powerline is a physical and mental drain. After making this trip a few times, I think I've conquered the mental aspect, but the physical demand remains. I hunkered down, hands on knees and made the ascent.

I passed a lot of struggling runners, arguing pacers, and demoralized souls on the climb. I ignored it all and pushed my way to the top.

After the crest, I took a few minutes to walk without the burden of defying gravity, collected my breath and RAN toward May Queen.

Jo met me at May Queen with a fresh, fully loaded hydration pack. I grabbed it, kissed her and left quickly. Only 13 miles to go and I was running short on time.

The traverse around Turquoise Lake in the morning is fun and light hearted. After 87 mountain miles, it's a daunting nightmare! I slugged it out with the rocks, roots, shadows and demons. I kept moving as quickly as I could, keeping a mindful eye on my watch.

The watch taunted me with promises of receiving the long sought Big Buckle. Then suffering a rough patch along the lake, it would revoke all the earlier promises of achievement.

I almost threw my watch into Turquoise Lake just to make it shut up!

Eventually, I emptied out on the Boulevard, heading toward 6th Street in Downtown Leadville. I tried to run, but it came out like a shuffle. I pushed, trying to spend everything that I saved up. There just wasn't much left to spend. Still...I pushed. My watch taunted.

I picked off a few runners as I turned left off the dirt and my feet hit pavement. Soon after, I made a right hand turn onto 6th street, making that final, painful climb. Near the top, I could see the lights of the finish line. I RAN!

I didn't break stride as I crossed the finish to collect my 4th hug from Marilee, my kiss from my wife and the big buckle that I had been chasing for so long.

Back Home and Early Enough to Celebrate!

A Familiar Face

And my Hug!

I finished in 24:44:20, completing the journey I had started back in 2011. More than satisfied, more than relieved...I was exhilarated!

Persistence, race strategy, luck....all of those things played a role in finally achieving this goal, but none of it would be possible without my wife, my friends and all the people that care about me and this sport. It's humbling to know that so many sacrifice so much to help me make these things happen.

Now that this box is checked off, it's time to prepare for the Wasatch 100. Maybe there are new goals waiting for me to conquer!

Thanks for reading!

2014 Jupiter Peak Steeplechase: How to Make a Long Day Out of a Short Run

2014-08-03T13:23:00.001-07:00

Stee-ple-chase noun
: a race in which people riding horses jump over fences, water, etc.
: a race in which runners jump over fences or water.

I just want to be very clear about this...the Jupiter Peak Steeplechase is not a mud run or obstacle race! There were no fences or water hazards to jump over and I didn't see a single horse! Not even an army surplus cargo net to climb!

This is a 16 (ish) mile trail race that starts at the base of the ski areas in Park City and immediately heads up (UP!) for the first 7 or 8 miles before looping back toward the finish line at the resorts.

I say "16 (ish)" and "7 or 8" because I don't wear a GPS, so I never really know where the hell I am.

They Tell me That People Sometimes Ski in Park City, Too. Weird.

I very rarely run short distance races like this. It's easy for me to forget there are serious differences between the ultra running community and the general trail running community. It's not a bad thing, I just find myself being reminded that differences exist.

For instance, the start line at an ultra is pretty low key, with people chatting so carelessly they sometimes don't notice the race has started without them. In contrast, before this race started, the parking lot was full of runners doing sprints to warm up for the start. I considered doing the same thing, but then remembered I really don't give a crap. I figured I would warm up somewhere in that first 8 mile climb.

I was here to run, not to race. To be totally honest, I don't even know how to properly race these distances. Everything is different! Pacing obviously, but fueling is different, too. I've spent years conditioning my body to run kinda slow...and very far. It's not easy to change that.

The race started at 8:00 (I know! The day was half over already!) and we started the climb on a service road before hopping on to some pretty sweet single track.

Heading for the Hills!

Typical Park City Trail. Very nice! Can you believe they let people ski here?

I had run this race last year, but I had forgot how runnable the first several miles were. We're averaging about 450 feet of gain per mile on the way to the peak at 10,400' but it never really felt daunting. I won't lie, I was hoping for more hiking and hardcore vert!

Somewhere above Park City

Like all races, the field was sorting itself out for the first few miles as people found their rhythm. I had planned to lock onto runners that I perceived to be running at a slow and easy pace because I wasn't in a hurry and was hoping for a consistent effort, not a mad dash up the mountain.

I latched onto a runner that was the perfect candidate to pull me up the mountain. He was the ideal balance of "Not a Bad Pace" and "Damn, I Should Pass this Dude!". He motioned for me to come around a few times (probably because he could feel my breath on his neck) but I declined, telling him I was right where I wanted to be. After the 4th wave around, I started to feel bad, so I lurched passed him. As I cut back in front of him, my left foot caught one of those invisible objects on the trail and I went down like a ton of bricks. It was one of those falls that you never see coming, you just realize it happened after you're already on the ground.

It hurt.

I was content laying there on the side of the trail, looking up at the sky. It was a gorgeous day and the weeds I had landed in smelled really nice. I probably got up because runners kept asking if I was ok, and I got tired of waving them off, telling them I was, "Great, just chilling in the weeds".

You Can See Why I Fell! Gnarly Trail...

And THIS Dude! I Dunno What It's All About...It's Just There.

Somewhere around mile 5 (totally guessing, here), I was churning uphill, staring at my feet with my mind somewhere else when I looked around and realized I was all alone. There was nobody in sight and it was dead quiet. Fortunately, I've experienced this enough to instantly realize that I somehow got off course. This isn't even remotely unusual for me so I wasn't fazed by it. I don't know how I manage to be so consistent when it comes to getting off course, but I have a special ability for it. I got lost in a 5k road race once. That's really hard for normal people to do.

I spun around and enjoyed some downhill running until I found the course and fell back in line, even deeper in the pack.

The climb began to get steeper and I settled into a hike before rounding the corner and seeing the climb to Jupiter Peak. This climb sorta sucks.

The Steep Stuff

The "trail" to the top is loose and hard to get decent footing. It's not a well defined route, so runners were meandering all over the face, trying to find the best route. Let's be honest, unless you find an escalator, there isn't an easy route.

View Near the Summit

Aid Station at the Top with Rock Music, But NO BEER. Ugh...Not an Ultra...

After the first summit, we bomb down to a saddle, cross a ridge line and make another tough ascent to the top of Tri-County Peak. Most people that haven't run the course aren't expecting the second peak. Disappointment abounds.

Leaving Tri-County Peak, I point my shoes downhill and enjoy the benefit of gravity. The rest of the trail is almost entirely smooth single track and easy running.

Love the Aspens

Around mile 12 (we've established by now that I really have no idea what mile I may be at), I was well into my rhythm, once again focusing on the trail and the guy in front of me as we ran down a rocky jeep road. I noticed a narrow trail shoot off to my right, but paid no attention to it. Several minutes later, I could hear a large group screaming for a runner that had gone off course. I immediately assumed somebody had turned down that narrow trail I had passed. The screaming continued, so I stopped and looked back up the mountain. Way up the mountain! Yeah...I was the dude they were screaming for. As it turned out, the narrow trail I totally SAW and IGNORED was the course. I tried to yell for the runner in front of me, but he was wearing earbuds and never heard a word.

I started the LONG climb back up the mountain and got back on course.

As you might imagine, my level of "Give-a-Damn" had dwindled down to nothing. However, I had a beer cooler at the finish line, so there was still a good reason to keep the pace up.

I could see the ski resort as I made my way off the mountain but we were running down shallow switchbacks, so my progress was painfully slow. When I started to encounter hikers, I knew I was pretty close. Most hikers in Park City don't venture too far from the Mercedes.

The trail emptied out onto asphalt and I cruised across the finish line.

Despite a hard fall and two diversions from the course, I still had a good time. The course is fun and beautiful, it was a gorgeous day and I logged the training run I came for.

Most importantly, I ran easy enough to avoid the need for any recovery time. I have several big mountain races coming up soon, and I need to stay fit and ready for some big climbs at high altitude.

El Vaquero Loco in Afton, Wyoming next weekend! Twice as long and three times as hard, and most importantly, it's ten times more scenic!

Thanks for following along!

Vertigo Night Run 63k: The Race That Tried to Kill me.

2014-07-28T10:29:00.001-07:00

"I should have worn a diaper on that last loop, because crapping my pants was a real possibility."- Kelly Agnew at the end of the Vertigo Night Run

That quote pretty much sums up my experience from the 2014 Vertigo Night Run. What started out as a casual 40 mile training run, turned into so much more. But without the possibility of adventure, this sport wouldn't be the same.

The Vertigo Night Run is an Aravaipa Running event and is held in the Arizona desert, outside of Phoenix. This race is part of the Insomniac Night Series, which makes sense, because who really wants to run the Arizona desert during the day, in July? Doesn't seem like a good idea to me.

The course is a 6.5 mile loop that twists and rolls through the rocky desert. They offer a 10k, 31k and 63k option. For me, it would be the 63k, which meant I would be running this loop six times.

The race starts at 7:00 PM and the desert gets dark at 8:00. I was pretty confident that I could leave the headlamp at the start/finish area for the first loop, because there was no way it would take me an hour to cover 6.5 miles. I only bother to mention this now, because I was absolutely wrong.

Start

(Note Jamil Coury filming us. At one point, Jamil runs into me on accident, yells "CONTACT", laughs and runs away. I nearly pissed myself from laughing so hard.)

Oh yeah...it was 106 degrees at the race start.

When the race started, I went out at a slow pace because I was worried about overheating while the sun was still up. I felt pretty good for about the first 800 yards, but we were grinding up a gradual incline and it was hotter than Satan's sack out there. There was a gentle breeze blowing but I think a 106 degree wind probably hurts more than it helps.

I dropped to slower gear to fight off the heat. Then I slowed even more. By the 3rd mile, I was alternating walking and running just so I could try to get my body temp down.

I was embarrassed to be walking so early but I didn't see a choice. I was never going to make it if I tried to race this first loop. I know attrition is high in all these races, so I focused on keeping myself held together and promised myself that there would be some speedy miles after the temps dropped.

I chatted with a few runners, enjoyed the sunset in the desert and focused on staying hydrated.

I was carrying a single handheld bottle, filled with Hammer Endurolyte Fizz tabs. There's an aid station 4 miles in for refills, and then it's a short, 2.5 miles back to the start/finish. By the time I made it to the aid station, my bottle was bone dry. I loaded it with ice water and headed out.

I swear to Sweet Baby Jesus that water never tasted so good!

I decided I would run the rest of the loop, not because it was cooling off, but because it was getting dark and my headlamp was 2 miles down the trail still. I drank up and started my mad dash to the finish area.

Ultra City

It was pretty much pitch black when I finished my first lap. It was dark, I was slow and I felt a lot worse than I should have at that point. I loaded up on water and Fizz tabs, grabbed my headlamp, stripped off my shirt and headed right back out.

Lap 1 Complete

The second lap was a lot like the first, except there was a bit more running involved. The 10k and 31k had started while I was on my first lap, so the trails were considerably more crowded.

Once again, I drained my handheld well before the 4 mile aid station. When I arrived, I drank 3 large cups of ice water before filling my bottle. I estimated I was drinking about 10 ounces of fluid per mile, which has to be some kind of record for me. Even at that, my voice was beginning to crack from dehydration.

My second lap was faster than my first.

Finishing Lap 2

Heading out for the third lap, I was distracted by the storm in the distance. There was a steady stream of lightning pounding the hills across the valley. It was fun to watch the explosions in the desert sky. With the absence of the moon, it provided a brilliant backdrop for the race.

I silently hoped the storm would stay on that side of the valley because it looked unbelievably violent.

I was passing several runners on my third lap and enjoyed the brief conversations. The temperature had finally dipped below 100 degrees, but it was still oppressive. I wasn't feeling great, but I was getting a long far better than a lot of other runners. Attrition was high.

Finishing Lap 3

At the onset of lap 4, the storm across the valley had migrated closer to the race course. I could hear the deep roll of thunder that had been silent until now. The storm was wide and the lightning seemed to stretch across the entire horizon. It was clearly heading our way, but I was hoping to be finished before it reached us.

My legs were getting heavy from the rolling trail. The entire course is runnable, but not flat, so the exertion doesn't register like it does in mountain racing. I was moving pretty well, but not as fast I had hoped.

Near the end of the 4th lap, the storm was nearly on top of us. The lightning had surrounded the entire race course and was relentlessly pounding the hills and desert floor.

What had once been peaceful and entertaining at a distance, had become stressful and worrisome up close.

Finishing the 4th Lap

I knew I was in the top 10, but when I came in after 4 laps, I learned I was in 3rd place. I had just been in 4th, but another front runner had just dropped. I hadn't been preoccupied with my standing in the race, but it was pleasant news, nonetheless.

I didn't waste any time before heading back out. Jo filled my bottle, I grabbed a Hammer gel and started to head to the trail while talking to Jo. She followed me down the trail while I was giving her my update and expressing my concern about the storm. Just as I was getting ready to run off, a huge gust of wind came through and started toppling the tents at the finish line. I yelled for Jo to get back there where she would be safe and I headed back out on the course.

Things were starting to get biblical!

The storm had rolled in fast and was happily hovering over the race course. The lightning strikes were relentless and the thunder was deafening. I could feel the air blast from the nearby lightning strikes. It was getting pretty sporty now!

My mind was completely occupied with the thought of getting struck by lightning as I hurried down the trail. The rain had started, but it wasn't as torrential as I would have expected from a storm this size. The winds picked up and the temperature dropped by about 10 degrees. It would have been quite pleasant if the storm didn't bring with it, the fear of death from the sky.

I was definitely on track for my fastest lap of the night.

As I was flying down the trail, mesmerized by the storm, I almost didn't notice the large rattlesnake making its way across the trail.

I was midair when I looked down and saw it stretched out beneath me. There was a lot of information to process in a very short amount of time. First, I needed to confirm that this WAS a rattlesnake. A quick glance toward the butt end of the serpent verified that it was. As time slowed to a crawl, I probably could have counted each rattle on his tail.

Now that I knew it was, in fact, a poisonous snake, I needed a plan for not getting bit. As I hovered above the snake, I assessed my options for landing safely. After a quick review, it became clear that I wasn't going to be able to avoid landing directly ON the rattlesnake. Accepting that reality, I did the only thing I could to protect myself...

I landed on his FACE! As soon as my foot made contact with his head, the tail came up and whipped me in the leg. The rattles were buzzing loudly as I launched myself off his face. I took three strides down the trail before turning around to look. He was alive, but quite pissed off. He gathered himself up, dusted off and hurried away from the trail with his tail still buzzing.

My heart was pounding as I blurted out, "DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?!". Yes, Kelly...that DID just happen.

I headed back down the trail with the added fear that culminated into believing that every crooked line in the sand, or stick on the trail was a snake that had been dispatched to do me harm.

Between the lightning strikes and the snakes, I was getting a little jumpy.

I had to stop running entirely a few times because I was being blinded by the lightning. The strikes were so close that I was losing my night vision and was stumbling down the trail until it returned.

Shortly after the aid station, I got word the race was being stopped due to the weather. I was bummed at first, but relieved to be calling it a night.

I ran hard, finishing out the loop, stopping at 52K.

I officially finished in 3rd place overall with a time of 5:41. Not blazing fast, but fast enough for the conditions.

I really had a great time, despite the last several miles being a scene right out of Natural Born Killers. The storm would have been a highlight of the race if it hadn't been right on top of us. But like all Aravaipa races, this one was great.

The goal was to log some training miles for my upcoming 100's and that was achieved. Up next...we're running local before heading to Wyoming for the famous El Vaquero Loco!

Thanks for reading! We hope to see you on the trails sometime soon.

2014 Leadville Silver Rush 50: Regaining Perspective

2014-07-14T17:46:00.000-07:00

"You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing for you."- Walt Disney

The mental evolution of my running career is something that I completely overlooked until I was faced with the daunting realization that I had a problem. A big problem.

After several miserable races and a lot of pretty lame excuses for such, I was forced to sit down and really THINK about where my failures were emanating from. Initially, I blamed several physical failures for my shortcomings. I blamed poorly designed race courses, shitty course markings and bad aid stations. But I never thought to blame myself.

Slowly, reluctantly and quite begrudgingly, I began to see right through the web of lies I was spinning for myself. My failures weren't physical, they were entirely mental.

When I truly analyzed my poor performances, it became clear that I had evolved into the type of runner that will DNF or otherwise throw a race away, whenever things aren't going exactly as I had hoped. If I lost sight of the podium, I was content with calling it a day so I could start getting ready for my next race. I became the runner that I had always criticized for not being committed to seeing things through. I became the last thing that I ever wanted to be. I was THAT guy. I don't like THAT guy.

Since this epiphany, I've been working to regain the passion I once felt for this sport. I want to love running again. I want to appreciate the gift and revel in the natural beauty of the mountains I run in every day. I want to feel the childlike enthusiasm for racing through the mountains, rather than the mechanical obligation to perform like a circus animal.

I want things to be the way they were. Like a failing relationship, my relationship with running was on the ropes and I needed to fix it. NOW!

This is why the Leadville Silver Rush 50 miler came at the perfect time.

This would be my fourth consecutive year of running this race and it's like an old friend. I know the course better than any other and I've always enjoyed every step of this race. It's exactly what I needed to get my mind back on track. 50 miles of tough mountain running in a place that has always brought a smile to my face. I was happy to be back in Leadville.

My Wife and Trail Running...My Most Treasured Things in Life

Lining up for the Silver Rush is always exciting. This race start has an intensity that a lot of races can't match. Our heads are filled with adrenaline charging music, a beautiful National Anthem, and then we're sent charging up Dutch Henri Hill like a wave of warriors. It's pretty intense.

Flag Waving For the National Anthem

Shotgun Blast to Send Us on Our Way

I never intend to race up the first steep climb, but the rush of enthusiasm always gets the better of me. Starting at 10,000 feet can make this sprint pretty challenging, but I felt great on the way up.

I continued to race the first several miles of the course. I felt strong and was having a lot of fun. The first seven miles are a long grinding uphill. This tricks you into running harder than you should because it's not steep. It's just relentless. A lot of runners fall victim to these early miles and I was nearly one of them.

After the first aid station, the climb gets steep enough to take notice as we trudge through water that spills over onto the rocky trail, navigating our way across slippery rocks and moderately technical terrain. Nearing the top of the climb, it becomes clear that this is a legit mountain race that will sear your lungs and fry your legs if you don't exercise some caution.

After topping out at the first pass, we have a nice, gradual downhill heading into the Printer Boy aid station. I had started the race with two handheld bottles filled with Hammer Endurolyte Fizz and I had a few Hammer gels stuffed in the bottle holders. My plan was to swap my bottles for a pack at the aid station. I rolled into Printer Boy, handed my bottles to Jo, slipped my pack on and kept rolling right along.

Coming into Printer Boy

Heading Out of Printer Boy

After Printer Boy, we're treated to about a mile of steep descent before crossing a paved road and beginning a long, grinding climb.

Heading UP...and UP Some More

After about a month of climbing, we top out in the Rock Garden. This is probably the most scenic section of the course, providing views of several 14'ers across the valley, and most of the Leadville 100 course.

Running the Rock Garden

This section rolls, but is pretty runnable. My advice is to take your time and enjoy the scenery. It's a truly beautiful spot.

After a bit of (somewhat) flat cruising, we take a totally unnecessary descent. To a first timer at the Silver Rush, this may appear to be the drop that takes us into the 25 mile turnaround point. That would be a foolish mistake. This is just a steep descent that stages us at the lowest possible point before making our final climb over Sherman's Pass.

Losing Elevation That We'll Immediately Regain. Only Steeper.

View Down Valley as we Climb UP the Pass

Making the Final Push Over the Pass at 12,000'

When I reached the top of the pass, I took a few moments to look around and soak in the beauty of the Colorado Rockies. As a few people filed by, I refused to be burdened by the "race". I just wanted to enjoy where my feet had taken me and appreciate the moment for what it had to offer. I felt centered. I was happy.

Dropping off the pass, I ran with a few other runners as we swapped positions. I was running a solid carefree pace and was focused on the peace of my run, enjoying my time with other runners and the great feeling of descending toward the halfway point in the race.

Cruising into Stumptown at Mile 25

As I reached the aid station, I tossed my depleted pack to Jo as I continued down the trail to pass through the timing mat. By the time I came back through the aid station, she had my pack refilled and ready to go.

I should never be surprised by how efficient my wife has become in the crewing game. She's the best crew chief in the business and she was really dialed in at Leadville.

Tossing on a Full Pack, Ready to Head Back to Leadville

Physically, I was feeling better than I ever had at the midpoint of this race. Mentally, I was in old, but familiar ground. I was having fun and happy to let things unfold naturally. I was having more fun than I had enjoyed in a long time.

I left Stumptown and fought my way back over the pass and down into Rock Garden. I made small talk with other runners, swapped war stories and gave encouragement to those that were struggling. Rock Garden passed quickly.

Getting Ready to Drop Out of Rock Garden

After a sharp and fast descent, we crossed the paved road again and headed back up the steep climb toward Printer Boy. This is a grueling climb and the sun was beating down on us mercilessly. Before I crested the top of the climb, I could hear the revelry at the aid station. A reminder that this is all supposed to fun.

As we rolled into the aid station, the crowd support was intense. It was an awesome feeling to be surrounded by that kind of enthusiasm and it served to renew my spirit.

Back to Printer Boy Aid Station at Mile 36

I rolled into the aid station, swapping my pack for two handheld bottles. Jo had them loaded and ready to go. She was getting me in and out as fast as possible, like she always does, but I wanted to linger. Not because I was tired or needed attention, but because I wanted to enjoy the scene.

Jo walked out of the aid station with me as I filled her in on my day. We smiled and laughed before I kissed her and headed toward Leadville.

Feeling centered again.

Enjoying Printer Boy

The run from Printer Boy starts with a stupid climb. 3.5 miles of gradual uphill that feels like it'll never end. Running is sporadic at best but I managed a few bursts of leg speed on the way up. The trip to the top allowed for me to get lost in my thoughts and occasionally chat with other runners. It was time well spent.

After cresting the top of the last pass, it's a mostly downhill run to the finish. Mostly, because there are a few rollers mixed in to serve as a reminder that you've run a really long ways. I pushed hard toward Leadville but not hard enough to become depleted. It was a well measured downhill ass whooping mixed with the appropriate amount of lingering.

Two miles from the finish, I took note of the time and realized I was probably going to miss a sub 9 hour finish. My time from last year was 8:42, which is a pretty respectable finish time for that course. I had a brief moment of panic but it quickly faded and I settled back into my calm stride and focused on enjoying the remaining miles on one of my favorite race courses.

The Silver Rush course weaves you toward, and then away from the finish line a few times in the last mile. You can hear the announcer, music and cow bells...then it fades. I knew the route and expected this, but it's still a little disheartening.

I eventually found myself running across the top of Dutch Henri Hill and could see the finish line down below. For a brief moment, I didn't want the race to be over but that feeling passed when I realized I had tickets for two free beers waiting on me.

I made the final sweeping turn and descended to the finish chute, crossing in 9:01, my second fastest time at the Silver Rush.

Finishing and Feeling Great!

I was truly content with my run and I still felt strong at the finish. I didn't land on the podium or even snatch an age group award, but I still felt like the run was a huge success. It was a cathartic exercise that gave me 9 hours to shut everything out and learn to enjoy running on the trails without pressure, fear or unwarranted expectations. It was just me having fun, which is why I started all this madness to begin with. Despite recent wins and FKT's, I consider this to be my most successful run of the year.

In the end, it's all about being happy.

2014 Comrades Marathon: On the Road to Durban

2014-06-03T03:15:00.002-07:00

"Comrades is a great 5k. The problem is the two marathons you have to run to get to the starting line" - Unknown

I don't know the origin of that quote, but I can wholeheartedly agree.

For those that are unaware, the Comrades Marathon is an 89k (56 mile) road race in South Africa. It's also the largest and oldest ultra marathon in the world, and is the largest spectator sport in South Africa.

Simply put, the Comrades Marathon is a big deal.

The race course alternates each year between the "Up Year" and the "Down Year". I need to tell you right up front that I have run both courses on consecutive years and I can barely register a difference in the level of difficulty. So if any of you are planning to run Comrades on an "easy" year, you just forget about it. This was the down year and I still had more than my fair share of hands-on-hips climbing along the way "down".

Pietermaritzburg City Hall

Being the down run, we were bussed inland to the start line in Pietermaritzbug and would be running back to Durban, which sits right on the coast of the Indian Ocean. The bus ride went well once our driver calmed down after getting lost a couple of times. Few things can start your day like a bus full of Africans yelling at each other.

Before I dive into the details from my race, I would like to share a few interesting facts about Comrades:

1. Runners are not allowed to display sponsor or corporate logos anywhere on the body.
2. Each runner must OWN their own timing chip and have it registered with the race.
3. Each runner must wear TWO bibs, unfolded and unaltered. One on the front of your shirt and the other on the back.
4. Runners must be registered members of a running club, unless you're an international runner.
5. Runners must run a qualifying race to register, unless you're an international runner.
6. The race has a firm 12 hour cutoff, at which time the finish line is closed and any remaining runners are barred from crossing the line. No finish time, no medal, no sympathy.

It's also important to note that it's wintertime in South Africa. To some people, that fact may suggest cold temperatures and possibly good running weather. This is true...if you're an African. For local runners, they're in the coolest and most hospitable time of the year for running. For North Americans, we're just emerging from our winter and not yet acclimated for hot weather running. Despite being winter, it's still 80+ degrees in the shade, and much warmer on the race course.

The race begins at 5:30 AM and I was comfortably nestled in my starting corral by 4:50. It was already warmer than I wanted it to be.

I have completed 156 races in my life and none of them can rival the spirit of the starting line at Comrades. The start line has a calm sense of enthusiasm, friendship and warmth, unlike any other event I've been a part of. It's an experience you have to enjoy firsthand to fully understand.

My favorite part of the pre-race ritual is the singing before the start. It's a beautiful song and despite my inability to understand a single word of it, I find it to be very moving. You can watch the video I took below.

After the anthem is played, the runners are sent off, accompanied by the ever faithful serenade of Chariots of Fire. This too has become a tradition at Comrades, and as soon as the song begins, the runners are pushing toward the front.

As a 135 pound white guy, I found myself wondering how more runners aren't crushed to death like this. It was akin to selling Justin Bieber tickets outside of a Canadian junior high school.

The first few miles are run in darkness. There's enough lighting to run without incident, but just barely. The real problem was the TV cameras, which aimed bright lights right into your eyes along the course. Whenever we approached a camera in the darkness, I tucked in behind a taller runner so he could shield me from the blinding glare.

As the sun came up, I was happy to see overcast skies because this would significantly reduce my exposure to the heat of the day. The clouds are our only real option for shade all day long. I was sincerely hoping it would remain cloudy during the race. However, unlikely...

Coming to a Checkpoint

Unlike a lot of runners, I don't race with a GPS watch. I prefer to wear a cheap digital watch, and if I'm so inclined, I can calculate my splits in my head. This is also a great way to occupy my mind during long races. For this race, I vowed to only allow myself to look at my watch at the end of every 10k split, otherwise, I may over think things, which is never good.

At the end of my first 10k split, I realized I was on a very solid but comfortable pace. Pleased with my progress, I went back to ignoring my watch.

At the end of my 20k split, I was also pleased by what my watch revealed. And again at 30k! I was having a great run! I was comfortable, moving quickly and having a fantastic time interacting with other runners and the spectators. I began to think I might have a spectacular day. I should know better than to ever begin that line of thinking in an ultra.

Somewhere in the South African Countryside

"KAY-LEE!! KAY-LEE!!! GOOOO KAY-LEE!!!" That was what I heard from the crowd all day. It never got old and the pronunciation of my name forced me to crack a grin every time I heard it.

Sachets of Water and Energade on the Course

I checked my watch again at the 50k split and noticed I was pretty close to a PR for that distance. I was still feeling great and I was in a good place mentally. I was fueling and hydrating perfectly and it was paying off.

As you can see from the picture above, water and sports drink (Energade barely qualifies as a sports drink) are served in plastic sachets instead of cups. This takes some getting used to because you have to tear the sachet open with your teeth so you can get to the contents. But this also makes them portable. I was grabbing several sachets and stashing them in my waistband so I always had water with me.

In addition to fluids, the aid stations had small amounts of candy, potatoes and bananas. Far fewer options than what you would find at any American ultra.

Local Children Begging For Candy and Food After the Aid Stations

The moment I had been waiting for came suddenly, and without warning at the 55k mark.

I began to feel very hot, like I was cooking from the inside. The sun was no longer being concealed by the clouds and I was overheating badly.

I slowed my pace in an effort to reduce my body temperature, drank more water and began to apply ice to my head and neck whenever I could find it. Despite everything, I couldn't get my temperature back down and I began to worry about more serious problems.

I wasn't dehydrated and I still had a lot of energy. My fueling strategy had been perfect. I was still sweating properly, but with no air movement, I just wasn't getting the cooling benefit of my sweat.

My 60k spilt was brutally slow and I felt like crap.

But...I Wasn't the Only One

I stayed focused and worked diligently on improving my situation. I was hoarding ice in my shorts, my shirt and under my hat. In these later miles, there are water sprays for the runners to pass through and I made a point of parking myself under them for as long as I could tolerate.

Cheerleaders Failed to Cheer Me Up...It Must Be Bad!

I was still running but my pace was ridiculously slow. All I found at the end my 70k split was more disappointment.

At the 75k mark, I began to come back to life. I tested my condition by slowly picking up my pace and things began to perk up again. After 20 kilometers of doctoring myself, I felt like a new runner. Unfortunately, I had lost a tremendous amount of time on the clock and there was no way to overcome that reality.

I pressed on toward Durban with deliberation and confidence.

As we got closer to downtown Durban, the crowds grew and so did the support. I was among the few runners that could still maintain a decent pace, so I was getting more than my fair share of attention, which I really needed at that point.

The Distant Durban Skyline Under the Bridge

Entering downtown Durban was intense. The crowds were thick and the noise was earsplitting.

I began to see familiar landmarks and I knew the finish line would be coming quickly. I began interacting with the crowd again and feeding off their enthusiasm.

Downtown Durban

As I neared our hotel, I could hear the race announcer calling out the names of runners. The finish line at Comrades is an intense scene, creating a unique balance of destruction and celebration. I was eager to get to that line.

Human Suffering Meets Compassion

I Don't Have Words For This

The race ends in the local cricket stadium and soon enough, I was rounding the final corner and entering through the gates. After a parade lap on the perimeter of the cricket field, I could see the finish line and the race announcer was calling my name over the address system and letting the crowd know I was an American finisher. The stadium lit up with cheers as I made my way to the line.

Coming to the Finish

Done! 9:14:53

I found my way to the International Runners Tent, found my bride, my beer and soft piece of grass to sit down on.

Scene at the International Tent

Happy to Be Reunited

Jo and I relaxed and watched the rest of the race unfold while meeting up with friends as they finished their own races and came into the International tent. This is a race that a lot of runners plan and prepare for during their entire running careers and watching the culmination of that effort is pretty amazing.

We watched from the infield until all our friends made it in, then we walked across the street to watch the final moments of the race on TV, and from the window in our hotel room. Witnessing the final moments of the Comrades Marathon is something we didn't want to miss.

As promised, the finish line was closed at the 12 hour mark and hundreds of runners were shut out. Still on the course and knowing their race is over and their dreams have vanished, you can see the devastating emotions rise up in every runner on the course.

Runners Heading to a Closed Finish Line

I didn't have a goal for this race, so it's not fair for me to say I was disappointed. In fact, I feel quite the opposite. I feel pleased that I was able to battle through a terrible low point and rally my way to the finish. All things considered, I am very satisfied with my finish time and how my race unfolded. It's races like these that inspire confidence in my running and my technical abilities and I need that confidence for my future races.

Jo and I truly love South Africa and we're happy to have had an opportunity to return for this race. I achieved my goal of finishing both courses on back to back years and now it's time to find another international race to fixate on.

Thanks to all my friends and sponsors that have been so gracious and supported Jo and I along the way. Next up...the Bryce 100!

Goodnight Durban

Grand Canyon 100....Uhhhh....50k

2014-05-19T14:11:00.002-07:00

2014 seems to be a year of incredible highs and devastating lows for me. That reality is particularly painful when I'm anticipating a high that turns into a soul crushing low. That's pretty much my story of the Grand Canyon 100 mile trail race.

Please follow along so I can take this opportunity to highlight the many ways I can screw up a perfectly good race.

Jo and I made the nearly 8 hour drive from Ogden to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon on Friday afternoon, getting to the race headquarters in time for us to get my bib number and set up camp for the night.

Our Version of a Motor Home

Mistake #1- We rushed ourselves and didn't plan the trip as well as we normally do. As a result, I didn't properly fuel myself the night before the race, I was tired and agitated from the trip. Not a good way to start a long and daunting weekend.

Getting Ready to Go

I came into this race with the intention of claiming a podium spot as a worst case scenario, but I was focused on the real possibility of a win. I knew I had some competition, but I was feeling strong, my runs had all gone well and I was ready to battle it out.

Mistake #2- I should never fixate too much on a possible win. This is a lesson I had already learned but I failed to follow. Becoming fixated on a specific goal has a way of bringing on a defeatist attitude when things don't go well (which ALWAYS happens at least once during a 100 mile race). That attitude gets in my head and mental deterioration is quick to follow.

The 50 and 100 mile races started at 6 AM. We gathered around the fire and listened to Matt Gunn give our final instructions before releasing us to the trail.

When the race started, I dropped into 2nd place and was focused on an easy pace while trying to ignore the runner ahead of me, as well as the throng of runners chasing me. My plan was to get through the first 50 mile loop in good shape, then begin hunting for the lead later in the race.

The race begins with a long, grinding ascent on Forest Service roads, before breaking away onto some rocky, twisting single track. The first trail section is an out-and-back to a lookout on the north rim. The trail was fun and I was having a blast cruising through the sage and juniper.

The Ditch

I saw the leader as he came back toward me and we exchanged a quick word of encouragement as we passed each other. After reaching the outlook, I marked my bib with their marker, as proof that I was there, I spun around and headed out.

This was the best part of my day. I was still in 2nd place so I got to see the entire field as they came to the outlook. Everybody was smiling, giving encouragement and it was clear we were all having a pretty good time.

Things would change soon enough.

I headed back the way I came, hit the first aid station and was directed to a short out-and-back, to another overlook of the canyon. When I got there, I was greeted by a volunteer that offered to take my picture on the rim. I politely refused, made a quick turn and headed back to the aid station. I flew right on by without stopping.

The next stage of the race takes us onto a trail section that hasn't seen a trail runner since Christ was a carpenter. The race crew had found this ancient trail sketched on a piece of parchment paper in some vault in the Forest Service office, then decided to resurrect it for this race. It was narrow, soft and had uneasy footing because of the 12 inches of pine needles and forest mulch that had slowly accumulated since it's well designed abandonment. It was impossible for me to get any speed going on this section and frustration was mounting.

I still had a big lead on the rest of the field, so I opted to take the time to pick my way through this section.

Then the hills started...

They were gradual at first, then I encountered a couple of relentless goat paths. Going down was as time consuming as going up. The footing was so loose that I was sliding more than running, and even hiking was a challenge.

And THIS is where it all unraveled.

While side stepping my way down a steep slope, my downhill leg slid away from me on three consecutive hops. On the third and final slip, a pain shot through my groin. It was sharp and fast. At first I thought nothing of it and I carried on. Once I got to the bottom of the ravine and started running again, I could feel a tugging pain on my left side. Again...I ignored it. As I began to make the steep ascent out of the ravine, the pain became far too much to ignore. I stopped to stretch and massage the area, hoping that would be the end of it. It wasn't. After reaching the top of the climb, I ran again and realized the pain wasn't as bad, but it felt all wrong.

While I was trying to work it out, three runners passed me, leaving me in 5th place. This wasn't a worry because I had ample time to hunt them down. After all, we were only at mile 10.

The next descent and ascent caused the pain to flare up even more. It was then that I realized I was in trouble. There was no doubt that a 100 mile finish was impossible, so I considered dropping down to the 50 miler. After some more hobbling, I realized that even 50 miles was probably not going to happen.

My day was sunk! Rage began to build because of this stupid incident! My plans were shot and I was beside myself with agitation.

Mistake #3- NEVER loose your cool! A lot of things can be worked out and my race probably could have been saved, but my emotions got the better of me. I behaved like a child and it was that behavior that made everything much worse.

North Rim Single Track

On my way to the Parissawampitts aid station (I prefer calling it Paris Armpits), I had decided to hop onto the 50k loop when it peeled away from the 100 mile course and I planned take that back to the finish line and call it a day. I knew dropping down to the short race would be acceptable to the RD, but it wasn't a decision that sat well with me.

Paris Armpits Aid Station

Kinda Running

Jo was there to meet me and she was already in motion to get me in and out as fast as possible. I slowed her down and explained what had happened and that I had a new plan of action. Not deterred, she still tried to get me out as fast as possible, but I was having none of that. I resigned myself to a crappy day and I had no interest in trying to be the least bit competitive anymore.

I tried to look at the upside and stay positive, but the best I could do was drink a beer and relax for a few minutes. That few minutes turned into 20 as I was enjoying my time on the tailgate.

Mistake #4- I should never have taken my head out of the competition. I wasn't going to win ANY distance, but there was no need to totally throw in the towel.

I eventually hopped back on the trail and headed out for the last 17 miles. I was totally unamused with my situation and only wanted to end this as quickly as possible.

The next five miles of trail were pretty excellent, but I can only acknowledge this after the fact. While I was on the trail, everything was a burdensome pain in the ass and I failed to see the beauty in any of it.

Traversing the North Rim

I was running, hiking, but I wasn't eating. I wasn't replacing my electrolytes like I should have been either. I guess because I felt like I wasn't competing anymore, none of those things really mattered. Without even realizing it, my groin pull was becoming the least of my problems. I was putting myself in a really bad spot without even realizing it.

Mistake #5- I stopped taking care of my nutritional needs because I mentally checked out of competition. This made my day significantly worse.

Stunning View From the Course

My next aid station was coming at mile 20 but I had told Jo to skip it and meet me at the final aid station before the finish. This was probably a good decision because if she had been there, I almost certainly would have crawled into the Land Cruiser and called it a day.

When I got the aid station at mile 20, I realized my fueling mistake and I took the time to rehydrate and get some calories in my body. I had run out of Hammer Peanut Butter gel, so I foraged on fruit to get me energized. I sat at that aid station for about 20 minutes before pushing on.

Mistake #6- I had now burned about 40 minutes sitting in aid stations for no good reason. Again...when I lost my competitive drive, I began making stupid mistakes.

The last 14 miles (yeah, 14 miles...the course was a bit long!) were on dirt roads. The heat of the day was in full effect and I was burning up. There was no meaningful amount of shade for the entire distance and I had to be cautious with my pace for fear of falling back into a dehydrated and depleted condition.

I never thought this section was going to end! I passed the time by leapfrogging with a couple of other runners but nobody was in the mood for idle chit chat. I assumed they were struggling as well.

My groin pain had largely subsided by now, but due to the mismanagement of my race, I wasn't in a good position to be laying down any fast miles.

Coming to the Final Aid Station

I came into the last aid station and didn't linger. Not because I had learned my lesson, but because I really just wanted to go sit down at the finish and process my miserable day. I was in and out in a minute or two. Jo later commented that she knew I was in a miserable place because I refused her offer of an ice cold beer and drank Coke instead. A sure sign that things just aren't right!

The final miles were almost all downhill on a narrow dirt road. I was completely alone, except for the demons haunting my thoughts. I began to realize my failures as my mind lifted from the fog a self pity. I had made so many mental errors that I could barely even recognize that this was a race that I would have executed. I couldn't believe how I had failed myself so miserably.

Mistake #7- I was unable to shake off my mental errors and I beat myself up over them all the way to the finish line. When we run 50 or 100 miles, things tend to go wrong and it's important to process those issues, regroup and move forward. I failed at doing that.

I eventually saw a glimpse of the finish line but it had lost it's typical magnetic pull. I didn't rush towards it with a sense of victory. I jogged toward it with a sense of defeat and self loathing.

I was just happy to have the entire mess behind me.

Coming to the 50k Finish

I directed myself to a nice, shady patch of grass and plopped myself onto it in a rather unceremonious manner. Jo found me a cold beer and I began to share the story of my horrific day on the trail.

It was through the telling of my story that I was able to begin to pinpoint the mental errors and see all the other possibilities for a more favorable outcome. I had become so immersed in my own pity party that I had allowed one small issue to take down my entire race.

I also realized that the groin strain (or whatever it was) had taken me out of contention for a podium spot, so I allowed it to take me entirely out of the race when it shouldn't have. I overreacted to a painful situation and it ruined a day that I had been planning for a long time.

Mistake #8- Ultra running involves pain and I failed to accept that for some reason. I bowed out at the first sign of imperfection.

Through the course of the race, I made eight major mistakes and probably a dozen minor ones. But the upside is that I clearly recognize them, have accepted them and I will learn from them. From this, I will be a better runner.

Taking a 50k finish in a 100 mile race is nothing I have ever done, nor is something I ever hope to do again, but it could have been much worse.

My greatest regret is not embracing the course the way I should have. When I got into a funky mood, I wrongfully ignored the beauty and serenity surrounding me. I count that as my biggest regret because that's a large reason why I'm out there to begin with. I lost that vision because my mind was clouded and muddled with all the wrong things.

Matt Gunn and his crew did an amazing job with this race and I'm sure it's going to be a popular event in the coming years. I know I'll be back next year so I can do it right next time.

Thanks for sharing in my failures as readily as you do my successes. It means a lot to me! I hope to see you all out on the trail soon!

Sinister Night Runs 54k: Sand, Sun and Scorpions

2014-05-05T19:53:00.001-07:00

Another Amazing Aravaipa Running Event

I'm really not very good at running these shorter distance ultras but I keep finding myself running them. Partly because I need them to maintain my base and partly because I just love trail running, even when I suck. Because of my self acknowledged suckiness, I came into the Sinister Night Run 54k with very low expectations, an open mind, and a cooler full of ice cold beer.

Beer, Babes and Running Shoes. All I Need to be Happy!

The 54k race starts at 7:00 PM, which fooled me into thinking it would be cool and comfortable at the start. It was actually 95 degrees and the sun was taking its time dipping below the horizon. We were running a rolling, 9k loop with an aid station near the middle, so I decided to run with a single handheld bottle full of ice, water and Hammer Endurolyte Fizz Tabs. The secret to success when running desert races is to conserve, hydrate and focus on making it the distance. There's always a lot of attrition in these races because of poor planning. That usually works to my advantage.

As stated earlier, I suck at this distance so there's no need for me to try to race up front with the guys that clearly DO NOT suck at this distance. My plan was to lay back while the sun was still up, do some course recon on the first loop and focus on keeping well hydrated. Simple enough...

By mile 2, my running clothes were saturated with sweat and I started to sense the physical indicators that suggested dehydration was already coming on. I had nearly drained my handheld, but I was losing the battle. It was WAY too early for this crap.

I'm about 99% certain that I was the first runner that actually stopped at the first aid station. Most runners that frequently run up front won't stop that early in a race, and I'm usually no exception. This time, I had no choice and I stopped long enough to load up on ice water. Because I hadn't planned to stop, I didn't have any Endurolyte Fizz tabs with me, so I was temporarily screwed for electrolytes.

After leaving the aid station, I slowed my pace so I could better control my fluid loss. I began to get passed and I struggled to remain patient in these early miles.

I hate being passed.

The sun was setting during the first loop but the temperature remained unchanged. There was a gentle breeze blowing across the desert but it was hot and provided no relief whatsoever. These conditions can be dangerous because the dry heat and warm wind cause sweat to evaporate, giving a runner a false sense of actual fluid loss.

I finished the first 9k loop in about 51 minutes. I loaded up on fluids, sucked down some Hammer Peanut Butter gel and rolled right back out.

The field was thinned out by now, but the 9k race was starting at 8:00 and soon enough, I was being overtaken by a stream of speedy runners on fresh legs.

I clicked off the next few laps with no issues. I continued to drink far more than I thought I needed and that seemed to keep me properly hydrated. I hammered a gel at the end of each lap and managed to maintain a very even pace throughout the run. I didn't feel great, but I was getting by.

Running in the desert at night is one of my favorite things. The sky opens up to a sea of stars and the air carries dozens of unique scents, one of which is the foul smell wafting off my body. I don't think I'll ever get used to the pungent ultra stank that seems to reach it's savory peak around mile 30. It's just gross.

I had been tracking my progress after each lap as I crossed the timing mat. Aravaipa uses a large monitor that displays your position in the race whenever you get scored. My patience and consistency was paying off and I had clawed my way into 5th place after 45 kilometers. I had one more lap left and still felt good, considering my rocky start.

I was actually surprised how well things had gone up to this point. A small part of me knew that it wasn't likely to last. It never lasts.

I started my 6th and final loop in good spirits. It was a beautiful night, I was having fun and things were going well. I coasted through my final aid station stop and then hiked and ran with a few other runners before darting off into the desert all alone, absorbing the serenity of my final two miles.

I can't say I was surprised when the hard packed, rocky trail came flying at my face. It's always times like this that I fall. When I allow my mind to wander and try to focus on all the positivity of the run. That's when I fall. It's a very rare occurrence, but when I do hit the trail with my face, I usually do it in epic fashion. For example, I've only fallen 7 times during trail runs (now 8) but I've broke my ribs twice and have sustained a wide range of serious injuries. I don't fall well.

I was running pretty fast when my toe grabbed that invisible rock and catapulted me, temporarily airborne, before I augured into the trail, plowing coarse angular sand down the trail. It hurt.

I rolled onto my butt and tried to clear my head. The dust was thick in my headlamp and I couldn't see my surroundings and seemed to have lost my handheld bottle somewhere. I simply sat until the dust settled enough for me to locate my bottle and assess my injuries. As I was wiping the blood off my fresh trail rash, my eye caught some movement near my foot. Thats when I noticed the belligerent scorpion looking up at me with a look of total disdain. He was postured for an attack with his tail and stinger poised to strike. Annoyed by my circumstances and his menacing presence, I was in no mood for his crap. I brought my water bottle around and shot him right in the eye with a full stream of my Endurolyte mixture. This really pissed him off! He scurried around trying to look intimidating, but let's face it...he's a BUG.

I picked myself up, dusted myself off, flew the bird at my scorpion buddy and headed down the trail toward the finish.

Stupid Bugs

I always feel like an idiot when I fall on the trail, but I take some comfort in the reality that there are way more embarrassing ways to fall.

For example....

I managed to finish the last two miles without falling or being attacked by scorpions and I crossed the finish line in 5:44:03, taking 5th place overall. Another great Aravaipa race in the books!

Me and my Bride Post Race

I can't say enough about Aravaipa Running and all their great races. I also want to express my gratitude to our awesome friend, Maria Walton, for hosting us for the weekend. As always, we had an amazing time in Arizona and can't wait to get back.

Thanks for taking the time to visit my blog and share in my experience.

Happy Trails!

2014 Boston Marathon: A Trail Runners Perspective

2014-04-23T14:27:00.000-07:00

"The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people."

-Martin Luther King, Jr.

The Boston Marathon was NOT silent!

I never aspired to run the Boston Marathon. It wasn't a goal of mine. I never trained for it, planning and hoping for a BQ. It's not because I lacked an interest in Boston, it was because I lacked an interest in ALL road races. Boston wasn't in my blood because I'm a trail runner and I didn't belong in that community.

After the tragedy unfolded at the finish line in 2013, I gained a new perspective that shattered my earlier perceptions about the Boston Marathon and the differences in our respective running communities. The bombings reminded me that we're all runners and we all have a binding connection in this sport, without regard to distance or running surface.

Like runners all over the globe, I ached for the victims of the 2013 bombings. That singular event changed history and brought the entire running community together in a way that has never been seen before.

I chose to line up at the 2014 Boston Marathon so I could show my support and respect for the victims, the sport and the amazing city of Boston.

Lots of Security at the 2014 Boston Marathon

Several months prior to registering for the Boston Marathon, I had the good fortune of meeting Pat Canonica while I was working the mile 28 aid station at the Wasatch 100. Pat and I got talking when he passed through my aid station and I was getting him fed and hydrated. Through this brief encounter on the side of the mountain, Jo and I received an invitation to stay in his home during the Boston Marathon, and also to take advantage of the first class transportation they arrange to the start line and from the finish line. They also put on a huge pasta party at Pat's house on race weekend. It seemed like Fate!

I kept in mind that ultra runners have a tendency to say all kinds of crazy things during races, so it was hard to measure the level of sincerity when he extended the invitation. But like it or not, that dude was having house guests during the Boston Marathon because I had witnesses at the aid station that would back up my claim that I had truly been invited. I'm pretty sure that would have held up in court if needed. As it turns out though, Pat was very sincere and proved to be an amazing host!

Race morning was very relaxed for me and I snoozed in my comfortable seat on the bus until the runners for Wave 1 were called to the start line, shortly before 10:00 AM. The BAA moved us through the corral loading process in a surprisingly efficient manner, especially considering the high level of security at the race start.

Leaving Athletes Village

I positioned myself near the back of the first wave because I didn't want to get tied up in the mess that was pretty much guaranteed up front. After enjoying the National Anthem and a pretty cool flyover, the race was underway.

View From the Back of Wave 1

Here was my plan for the race:

1. Find beer on the course. It HAS to be easy enough to find "race beer" in Boston.
2. Kiss Wellesley Girls. Maybe all of them.
3. Don't get knocked over by the "Amateur But Think I'm a Pro" at the water stops.
4. Finish before dark.

Yes. I had a conservative race plan. It's not like I was in contention for the win, so what else is there?

I ran the first few miles at a pretty brisk pace and got wrapped up in the noise and celebration that surrounded the race course. I was in awe of the massive turnout and I loved the enthusiasm of the spectators.

If I had a dime for every high-five I gave out, I could retire today! It was unreal.

I let out a laugh every time a spectator yelled, "GO HAM-UH!!!" or, "YOU GOT DIS HAM-UH!!!". Without my name being visible, they could only address me by acknowledging my sponsors name, HAMMER. It took me a while to realize that's what they were trying to say.

Beer?

I found my first advertised beer stop around mile 8. Don't get me wrong, I saw a lot of beer coolers and people drinking beer along the course, but I wasn't desperate enough to actually panhandle for beer at that point. By mile 9, my scruples may have dictated otherwise, so this beer stop came just in time.

I peeled off the course and accepted a plastic cup of beer. I peered inside the cup and immediately handed it back, saying, "Dude, I'm a full grown man. Fill this to the top"...which they promptly did. Then I handed it back two more times with the same request, before settling in.

I don't think they actually expected any of the runners to "hang out" with them during the race and they started to get a little antsy, reminding me about the ongoing marathon as I was attempting to drain their keg. These guys shouldn't start something if they don't intend to finish it.

After I had my fill, I gave proper thanks and aimed my shoes toward downtown Boston.

Wellesley! For those of you that don't know, the town of Wellesley is the home of Wellesley College, which is an ALL GIRLS SCHOOL. Following strict marathon tradition, the girls from Wellesley College line the streets and kiss the willing marathon runners as they come by.

I was initially tentative because this is where Hillary Clinton went to school, so the quality of the young ladies was somewhat suspect. Nonetheless, I went into it with an open mind.

The First Sign I Saw Pretty Much Confirmed My Fear

At my age, kissing college girls sounds pretty interesting, especially without the threat of jail time or any other civil action being brought against me. I was game.

Eager Young Ladies

Jo and I had discussed my race plans, and specifically my intentions at Wellesley. I explained that I would spend no more than a half hour at the college. She thought that was probably too much time, considering my other goals for the day (she's always looking out for me). We entered into prolonged negotiations and eventually agreed that 8 minutes would be appropriate.

I set my watch when I came into Wellesley.

I slowed. I mixed and mingled a bit. Truth be told...I'm a pretty picky guy. I left Wellesley with a few minutes to spare.

Point to Ponder: If you're a male runner and you suffer from low self esteem, I would encourage a trip through Wellesley during the Boston Marathon. It'll definitely boost your ego.

We were approaching the middle of the day and the course was getting pretty warm. There is virtually NO COVER on the Boston Marathon course and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

I needed to find another beer stop, STAT!

Well...I'm down for 2 out of 3

As an avid trail runner, I have a bad habit of staring at my feet when I run. For Boston, I was trying to remind myself to pick my head up so I could enjoy the sights along the course. Ultimately, I would fall back into the comfortable routine of staring at my feet until I remembered where I was.

At one point as I jerked my head back up, I saw a familiar looking runner just ahead of me and I sped up to catch her. I pulled alongside my friend, Sarah Reinertsen, and hung at her shoulder until she looked up and registered who I was. We stopped running, gave each other a quick hug and then recruited a spectator to take a picture of us on the course.

I've known Sarah for a while but hadn't seen her in over a year. It was awesome to run into her on the Boston course. She's an incredible athlete and the total embodiment of strength and courage.

Sarah...Total Badass and Hero

I crested the top of Heartbreak Hill before I realized I was climbing it. I was tipped off by some signs that spectators were waving in the crowd. I literally stopped, turned around and checked it out from the top. Not what I expected at all. I may have even felt a twinge of disappointment.

I glanced at my watch and suddenly realized how much time I had been wasting. I wasn't concerned about my finish time, but I really didn't want to be out there so long that people began to worry about me. I hurried down the course, heading toward Boylston Street.

Coming Into Boston

When the giant CITGO sign came into view, I knew we were close to the finish. The frequent mile markers were also a dead giveaway.

By this point in the race, the crowd was completely insane! People were stacked 10 deep behind the barricades, screaming at the tops of their lungs. I had never experienced anything remotely similar in a race.

I was just smiling and in awe of the entire experience.

When the finish line finally came into view, the noise intensified. I was moved by the signs that read, "Thank You For Coming Back to Boston". That was the prevailing sentiment at the finish. The locals wanted the runners to come back and celebrate this historic race with defiance, reverence and respect. The finish line was filled with emotion, as much from the spectators as the runners. It was a surreal spectacle.

I crossed in 3:48:17, which isn't remotely speedy for me, but speed wasn't on the menu for the day. As it relates to my time, my only regret is that I didn't take more time on the course to thank the crowds and volunteers along the way.

Finishers Chute

The 2014 View From Boylston Street

Boston Strong!

For me, it was a bag of mixed emotions. I went into Boston, knowing this would be my final road marathon. That reality forced me to recall the days, in the not-so-distant-past, when running a marathon was my ultimate goal as a runner. This was less than 4 years ago, before I even knew trail and ultra running existed. Crossing the finish line at Boston was a culmination of that chapter in my life and I couldn't envision a better chapter to end on.

I try not to take running too seriously because it sucks the joy out of a sport that has done nothing but bring me immense happiness. Running should be fun. It should bring happiness and health into the lives of the people that seek it out and relish in all it has to offer.

The 2013 Boston Marathon briefly threatened our ability to find that happiness. The 2014 Boston Marathon served to cast those thoughts to the side and helped to reinforce the reality that our community of athletes and supporters are well suited for adversity and challenge.

After a brief rest and reuniting with my beautiful bride, we made our way to Jacob Wirth's Restaurant, which was a short walk from the finish line. As runners walked through the door to the bar, the entire restaurant would erupt in cheers and applause, bathing the runners in love and respect. It was a truly touching scene.

Unwinding After the Race

I'm extremely pleased that I ran the Boston Marathon. It's an experience unlike any other and I wish all runners could have experienced the special event that 2014 turned out to be. It can't erase the pain from 2013, but it will definitely go a long way toward healing the community that it tried so desperately to harm.

For me, it's back to the trails! We're coming into the busy season and I feel like I'm ready to do some good things.

Thanks for taking the time to read about my Boston experience. I hope to see many of you on the trails soon.

2014 Zion 100: Bouncing Back From the Dead

2014-04-06T18:26:00.001-07:00

"Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour."- Victor Hugo

Gluttony. A term that is largely tied to habitual overeating, but that's largely because we're a nation of habitual over eaters. Gluttony can apply to many things.

The Glutton, Ready to Race

I had a shakeup in my (very well planned) race schedule when I was asked to run the Pickled Feet 24 Hour race. I desperately wanted to run the 24 hour event but it smacked right up against the Zion 100, which is a personal favorite. The only solution was to run them both.

I had run back to back 100 milers in the past (once), so there was precedence here. Not entirely new territory. I had some small measure of confidence. Not much...but some.

I had set the modest expectation of a sub 24 hour finish. That sounded easy enough. I knew the course well from my previous races and I had a much faster finish there the year before. I had a solid, reasonable plan.

After logging 130 miles at the Pickled Feet 24 Hour race, I rested some. I logged some miles during the week. I tested my body and assessed my readiness for running 100 miles, and I felt like I was prepared.

I wasn't. It didn't matter. I was running the Zion 100 no matter what.

Start of the Zion 100

When the race started, I found myself running with a friend, Danny Widerburg. We fell into discussion as easily as our feet fell into a synchronized rhythm. We chatted as we approached the climb up Flying Monkey. I was happy to have the company because it kept my mind off the upcoming climb, which is my least favorite ascent on the course. But like death and taxes, this climb couldn't be avoided and we eventually began the ascent.

Danny, Giving the Monkey a Solid Spanking

Danny and I laughed and joked our way to the top of this ugly climb. Our banter mostly consisted of typical juvenile bathroom humor, which most certainly impressed the nearby runners in our endless conga line. None of the other runners joined our banter and I like to think it's because we had them paralyzed with our comedy routine.

We really are amazingly funny people.

After finishing the Flying Monkey ascent, we ran across the top of Smith Mesa and began a daunting downhill run on a well groomed dirt road. This dirt road led us to a poorly groomed paved road. We proceeded to crush our quads with a brisk pace and lack of long term thinking.

I was forced to take a quick pit stop on the way down, thus leading to the culmination of the Danny and Kelly Show, much to the detriment of many nearby runners, I'm sure.

Crossing the Highway, Heading to Sheeps Bridge Aid Station

Sheeps Bridge Aid Station comes at mile 14. I was happy to see my amazing wife, get some fuel in my belly and head out to the JEM Trail for some winding single track. I was in and out quickly.

Sheeps Bridge Aid Station

The JEM Trail is a twisting mess of rocky single track that mostly follows the Virgin River. I've always enjoyed running this section of the race and this time was no different. Initially, anyway.

After a couple of miles into the JEM, my legs began to stiffen up. My feet got heavy. My turnover pretty much stopped turning over.

16 miles into the race and I was already falling apart. I expected this to happen, but not at mile 16.

I shuffled down the trail, falling into a funk and cussing at myself for trying to run these races back to back. A body needs rest and I was failing to allow that to happen.

I realized there was no possible way I could finish this race. I accepted my fate.

Virgin River Along the JEM

I made plans to drop at the Virgin Dam Aid Station at mile 23. I even began mentally drafting my race report, creatively crafting a story about my eyes being bigger than my stomach. An epic crash and burn tale for people to learn from.

It sounded pretty good too. I like to think it would have been a popular blog post.

Our Friend Cherri Coming into Virgin Dam Aid Station

Me Pretending to Run into Virgin Dam Aid Station

I told Jo I was going to have to DNF and I headed for the truck, eager for a ride back to the hotel for a shower and a meal.

I sat in the backseat, popped my cooler open and drank a beer, trying to wash the self pity away. I explained my situation to Jo and she listened intently. When I was done talking, she told me I wasn't allowed to DNF at Virgin Dam. If I wanted to drop, I needed to do it from the top of Gooseberry Mesa.

GOOSEBERRY MESA?!?! That's one of the NASTIEST climbs on the course! I was content to drop closer to sea level!

She was throwing down a challenge and I recognized it right away. She had no sympathy because she knew I was just being a baby. She wasn't going to tolerate it.

I Can SMELL the Self Pity Clinging to My Clothes

Defiantly, in the way a 3 year old is defiant, I grabbed my crap and began heading toward Gooseberry Mesa.

With a beer in hand and a bad attitude, I recruited a buddy, Matt Hagen, to run with me to Gooseberry Mesa. Matt is a great guy with a big smile, a warm heart and stellar attitude. Because of these traits, I forced him to listen to my whining for the next 7 miles.

Me and Matt Getting Ready to Begin My Pity Parade

My Dramatic and Pathetic Exit From the Aid Station

Running with Matt did a lot to help me sort things out mentally, but it did nothing to help me overcome the physical problems. My body was just exhausted and there didn't seem to be a solution that somehow involved running a 100 mile trail race.

The biggest issue was the fatigue in my calves and hamstrings. These muscle groups are particularly important for hill climbing. When Matt and I reached the base of the Gooseberry Mesa ascent, I encouraged him to go on ahead because I knew the climb was going to be slow and painful. Matt reluctantly agreed, and I was alone again. Or nearly alone. I had my self pity to keep me company.

Starting the Gooseberry Climb

The climb is exactly how I remembered it. It sucked. Every single step was an annoying and painful reminder of why I wanted to drop back at Virgin Dam.

The Final Steps Up Gooseberry

When I arrived at the Goosebump Aid Station, I was fully prepared to drop from the race. I was 31 miles in and I didn't see any reason to go any further.

Jo refused to let me drop. She insisted that I run the slick rock section of the Gooseberry Mesa and then consider my dishonorable exit from the race when I was finished.

I kinda saw that coming. No need to argue about it. I loaded back up and got ready to go down the trail.

Chatting With Hammer Nutrition Teammate, John Fitzgerald Before Heading Out

Gooseberry Mesa Single Track

As I ran the slick rock, my mood lightened and so did my legs. I seemed to be slowly pulling myself out of my funk, but I was skeptical that it would last. I just tried to focus on enjoying the race for as long as I could and I tried to push the negative thoughts from my mind.

View From Gooseberry

I made good time on the Gooseberry loop and found myself back at the Goosebump aid station sooner than I had expected. This time, I didn't even bother to mention dropping. I refreshed my gear, downed some Hammer Nutrition gel, and headed down the dirt road leading to the Grafton Aid Station, a mere 6 miles away.

I came into Grafton at mile 49 in about 11 hours. That's painfully slow for me, but it was the best I had to offer. Annoyed by my slow time and focused on taking advantage of my mild rejuvenation, I was in and out of the Grafton Aid Station quickly.

The next section was a fast 5 mile loop that would bring me right back to Grafton. I ran that trail like I was angry with it.

Cactus in Bloom on Grafton Mesa

Coming back into Grafton, I loaded up and got ready for night running. I took my larger pack, some extra layers and my headlamp. I also changed into a pair of tights because I was expecting slow running and cold temperatures.

I was off like a herd of turtles!

Grafton Mesa Aid Station

Before I could leave the aid station, our friend, Jennilyn Eaton, FORCED me to stop running so she could make a video of me dancing. DANCING! I don't dance. I explained my lack of interest, but she was insistent. I danced. On camera. It's a good thing my mood was improving, otherwise, it's really hard to say what the status of our relationship would be today.

Jo and Karen Skaggs Waiting on Their Men at Grafton

Matt Hagen at Grafton, Having a Great Race

I ran off the mesa, headed toward Eagle Crags. This is a 14 mile loop, which brings me back to the Grafton Aid Station for a final time.

I ran the descent well and was really beginning to feel good. I hit the bottom of the hill and ran every step to the climb up Eagle Crags. My uphill hike was speedy and felt good. I made a fast turn at the Eagle Crags Aid Station and headed back toward Grafton Mesa.

I passed several runners along the way. I was getting small pieces of my confidence back.

The climb back up Grafton Mesa was daunting and some of the pain began to return to my legs, but before it became unbearable, I was on top of the mesa. I walked for a few hundred yards and allowed my legs to settle down before running again.

This was when I actually believed I could finish the race. I had 4 of the 5 major climbs out of the way. This could happen. Not fast, but I would be happy with any finish. Sub 24 seemed totally impossible, so I prepared myself for a daylight finish in the 25-26 hour range.

Jennilyn Eaton Posing With a Mystery Animal Oddity at Grafton (What goes on at aid stations while I'm out running?)

It was fully dark now and getting cold. The dropping temperatures helped me to stay focused on moving quickly enough to stay warm. Freezing to death is a great motivator.

I ran the 6 miles of dirt road leading back to the Goosebump Aid Station. I saw some headlamps in the distance, but I ran this entire section alone.

I reached Goosebump at mile 74, saw Jo, made a brief stop at the aid station and bombed down the 1200' drop. This is best described as a "somewhat controlled free fall". I was skidding and bouncing my way off the mesa. I was passing nameless, faceless runners, apologizing for the dust I was kicking up. The descent was a total blur.

Once I landed at the bottom of the mesa, I ran/walked/slogged my way through 5 miles of rolling desert floor, ran down the shoulder of the state highway and crossed over to Dalton Wash Road where my lovely bride was waiting.

We changed headlamps, restocked my pack with Hammer gels and I headed up the final major climb of the race to the Guacamole slick rock loop.

The climb actually went quickly. This is a 4 mile dirt road that stair steps its way to the top of the mesa. I ran the flats and hiked the hills. I only saw one runner heading back down, which made me wonder if I hadn't climbed toward the front more than I realized.

I entered the Guacamole aid station, drank a cup of cold water and headed for the slick rock loop. I would later hear some grumbling about the course markings in this section and hear stories of people getting lost, but for me, it was a flawless run. I've run this section in daylight hours, so there may have been an advantage in that, but I had no issues finding my way and doing it quickly.

What I DID have issues with was hallucinations. I rarely hallucinate, and when I do, it's brought on by total mental fatigue. My hallucinations are always terrible. The kinds of things that force you to lose sleep.

THIS! This is What Visits Me When I Hallucinate. Every. Single. Time.

I could see the bobbing headlamps of runners that had wandered off course. I could hear a few voices. Frustrated and confused. Some knew they were lost, others were just wandering in tight circles, unaware they were lost. I know I gained several spots due to the confusion, but I have no idea how so many people were up there wandering on the slick rock.

I blew back through the Guacamole Aid Station and made a screaming descent toward the valley floor. I ran every step, gaining several more spots along the way. I covered that 4 mile section is 38 minutes and was surprised that my worn out legs could hold that pace.

I saw a glimmer of hope that a sub 24 hour finish MIGHT be possible.

I met Jo back at the bottom of Dalton Wash Road at mile 95. I had a little over an hour to make it to the finish line in under 24 hours. Running 5 miles, in my condition, in that amount of time seemed completely impossible. I accepted my fate and loaded up on a few more supplies then headed down the trail.

This last 5 mile section starts with a soul crushing climb on loose sand and rock. I scrambled, cursed and kicked rocks to the top. I was scooting down the trail with conviction once it leveled off. The end was near and I was trying to find it as fast as I could.

The trail twists and turns its way through the desert, frequently disappearing except for a few flags marking where a trail would be if somebody had built it. This was makeshift bushwhacking at its finest.

I came to a river crossing and paused before barreling across it. This is the only water crossing on the course and I wanted to keep my feet dry if possible.

As I was scanning the river for a way across, I heard a loud rustling in the brush. It was so loud, I assumed it was a deer coming down for a drink of water. I shined my headlamp around, looking for the animal and I found nothing. As I began to turn my head back to the water crossing, my headlamp revealed the animal. A SKUNK only a few feet away!

NOT THE ACTUAL SKUNK. THIS IS A PAID IMPERSONATOR.

The skunk was oblivious of my presence until the beam of my headlamp hit him. This is when he wheeled around, lifted his tail and peered at me between his legs, taking careful aim right at my EYE!

My feet got pretty wet as I pushed a 4 minute pace across the river. Once I was safely across, I glanced back to watch the skunk prance off, thinking himself victorious. What a dick!

After a few more twists and turns, my feet struck pavement. I knew exactly where I was. I was close. I opened up and left everything I had out on the course, in pursuit of the best possible finish.

I rounded the final corner, saw the finish line and scooted across in 23:43:41!! I had run those final miles at a 9:20 pace. I was elated to break 24 hours in a race that I had been trying to DNF for almost 80 miles.

Greeted by Friends at the Finish

Each Zion 100 buckle is hand made and is entirely unique. Getting to choose my buckle is a pretty cool part of this race. I poured over a huge pile of buckles until I found the one that had been made especially for me.

My Latest Buckle

Sitting at the finish line, in front of the fire with good friends and a great wife was the perfect way to wrap up my race. I was warm, I was smiling and I was content. I couldn't ask for any more at that moment.

I can't properly express how thankful I am that my wife refused to let me drop from the race. She's more than just a world class crew chief, she's my other half and she often knows me better than I know myself. If I had been in any kind of danger, she would have pulled me from the race herself. She knew I was just being a drama queen, so she poked and prodded me to the finish. For that, I am eternally thankful.

Thanks again to all my sponsors, especially Hammer Nutrition. It was quality fueling that eventually pulled me through and helped me bounce back. I would have suffered dearly, or dropped from the race without their endurance fuels.

One last piece of business...I raced in the Altra Olympus at the Pickled Feet 24 Hour Race and I put 130.13 miles on those shoes. I wore them again for 100 miles at the Zion 100 one week later. I put more than 230 miles on these shoes in 7 days and I have a few things to say about them. I'll be drafting a comprehensive review of these shoes in a few days and will share it here in my blog for those that are interested. I'm no Altra historian, but I would be hard pressed to believe that anybody else has ever logged 230 miles on the Olympus so quickly, especially after having almost no experience with Altra's OR maximalist shoes. It has been an interesting experiment.

Altra Olympus

Jo and I are headed to the Boston Marathon in two weeks for what I hope will be my final road marathon. I hope to see some of you there.

Thanks for reading and happy trails!

2014 Pickled Feet 24 Hour Race: Being Chased in Circles

2014-03-31T12:02:00.000-07:00

"However, if you fail to prepare, you will either go through stress to win your race or you may quit when the battle becomes tougher than you ever imagined"

- Israelmore Ayivor

I have run a lot of tough races and I have covered some tremendous distances in the pursuit of the finish line. Without a doubt, this was the most mentally difficult race I have ever ran.

Running in timed races is a relatively new experience for me and the Pickled Feet 24 Hour race would be my second effort in this type of race format. After my win at the Across The Years 48 Hour race, I've been interested in exploring timed races. Few things are more motivating than a possibility to win a race. These opportunities don't come around often, especially for an aging athlete, so I owe it to myself to push out of my comfort zone and explore the world beyond the typical trail ultras. Who knows...maybe that's where I'll find my strength.

Getting Ready to Go...

The Pickled Feet race is made up of a 100 mile trail race in addition to the 6 hour, 12 hour, 24 hour and 48 hour events. All of these races are held inside the Eagle Island State Park in Eagle, Idaho. The course is a 2.5 mile loop consisting mostly of dirt trail, plus a tiny bit of pavement. My race started at 6:00 PM on Friday. When we arrived, the 100 mile and 48 hour races were already underway. The 6 hour and 12 hour runners would be joining us for the 6:00 PM start as well. Bib numbers and colors distinguished which race each runner belonged to. This keeps a 24 hour runner from battling head to head with a 6 hour runner for absolutely no reason. Or at least it's supposed to.

Race Director, Emily Barriochoa Giving Pre-Race Instructions

Here's my detailed plan for the race:

RUN MY ASS OFF FOR 24 HOURS AND WIN THE RACE OR DIE TRYING!

I realize this plan may seem simplistic, slightly foolish, and maybe even dangerous. Conventional wisdom never came into play while I was developing this plan. I had no time for that nonsense.

By the way, I have a patent pending on this race plan, so please refrain from stealing my intellectual property. Thank you.

In an effort to provide the appropriate presentation at the start of the race, I lined up deep in the pack. When the race started, I bolted past all the other runners and went right to the front. This gives the illusion of even greater speed than I was actually exhibiting. To the novice runner, it probably looked lightening fast and somewhat terrifying.

I actually giggled for the first half mile. My plan was working!

Me Chasing a 6 Hour Runner at the Start

I would learn later that the runner I'm chasing in these pictures was running the 6 hour race and he had incorrectly assumed that I was ALSO running the 6 hour race. He was running wildly, trying to put distance between us. We got a good chuckle out of his misunderstanding when we met up five hours into the run. To my credit, his fear of being passed by me pushed him into an enormous lead and eventual win. I'm all about helping other runners out.

The "loop" is really a lollipop, meaning we run out from the start/finish area and then begin the actual loop, returning to the start/finish area on the "stick" of the lollipop so we can get scored for a lap. And...repeat!

We were allowed to choose which direction to run the loop and we could change directions as often as we wanted. This may seem like a small thing, but believe me, after 30 loops, any little change of scenery is a blessing!

It Clearly Says "You Can Go Either Way" at the Fork

On the first loop, I was still chasing my buddy from the 6 hour race when we came to the fork. He ran to the right, so I ran to the left and planned to head him off at the pass. Absolutely NOBODY followed me. Furthermore, a chorus of runners began yelling at me, telling me I was running the wrong way. I simply referred them to the sign, as I did not have time to enter into a debate about this.

TRAIL

At the midpoint of the loop, there's a sign that says "Half Way". When I reached this point, the lead runner had beat me there by only a few meters. And then the rest of the race field began to file by as we headed in opposite directions. This gave me a chance to scan for the bib numbers I had memorized. I was hunting for the runners that I knew were a threat. There were three runners that I was worried about, and sure enough, two of them were running near the front and they looked strong.

LAKE

FARM

I finished the first loop in about 19 minutes. I ran through the aid station without stopping, flew through the timing chute, and started loop #2.

Meanwhile, the lead runner was still looking over his shoulder at me. Poor guy...I'M NOT EVEN IN YOUR RACE!! SLOW DOWN AND RELAX!!

My plan was to take a big gulp of Hammer Nutrition gel every five miles and to carry one handheld bottle filled with Hammer Nutriton Endurolyte Fizz Tabs (Lemon Lime Rocks!). I would also swap my bottle every five miles for a full handheld that Jo would have ready and waiting. Pretty solid plan.

At the end of the first five miles, Jo ran along aside me as I blew through the aid station, chugging gel while swapping bottles. I never stopped and Jo ran stride for stride with me. We did this for the first several hours. Never stopping...just fueling and running. It was a pretty awesome display of ultra crewing badassery, if I say so myself!

I was running, I was leading, and I was happy! Until mile 20 when somebody did something to really get my blood boiling. Seriously...I almost lost my mind.

As I was running toward a shuffler, who I assumed was in the 48 hour race, or the 100 miler, I could see him fixing his gaze on me. As I got closer, he began to raise his hand and he slowly pointed his bony finger right in my face. In a thick European accent, (saving nationality to protect the "innocent") he angrily blurted out "YOU WENT OUT TOO FAST!!! SLOW DOWN!!!"

Look...this dude was ANGRY. Normally, I would have been all "Whatever, Pops", but this really got under my skin. I probably got so angry because the EXACT SAME THING happened to me when I ran the Across The Years 48 hour race. That guy was ALSO European. Maybe I was unwittingly breaking some European timed race rule! Anyway, I was so flustered by the whole thing that I wasn't capable of crafting an appropriate response and I just blurted out some random words. I may have said something about a squirrel, but I can't say for sure.

Geez...just writing about it now is getting me mad again! I need to learn to let things go.

Anyway, I gave the dude a BIG smile and a wave every time I flew by him. When people doubt you, the best revenge is performing well.

As the sun set, the temperatures dropped a few degrees, but it was still very comfortable running weather. I was happy to see the night arrive because it masks the course. This allows me to run all night and pretend I'm anywhere I want to be. There's no scenery except for what I create in my mind. It's a life saver in a race like this.

TRAIL

I was tracking the other 24 hour runners on the scoring monitor, but not frequently. I knew I was being chased by a strong runner and I also knew he was fading. I eventually dropped him by 20 miles and I began to ease off my pace and daydream about actually winning this race. It was still VERY early but I was becoming comfortable with the idea of winning.

That didn't last long and everything changed.

After loafing around the course for a few laps, Jo told me that another runner had snuck within 17 minutes of me and was on the same loop. We were both at 70 miles at this point. He's wearing bib #223 and his name is Bob Shannon.

CRAP! Here I am screwing around, patting myself on the back and having a casual little run, and now I was almost caught! I bolted out of the aid station and tried to find my focus.

I swore at myself for the next 5 miles. I actually called myself some pretty revolting names and I really hurt my feelings. But I deserved it.

For the next 25 miles, I kept close tabs on the scoring monitor. Bob was holding his own against me but I knew I was running at an unsustainable pace. If he didn't eventually break, I knew I would. I was hurting so bad at mile 95 that I was ready to concede the first place spot just so I could relieve the pain. I was in a bad place and my own complacency put me there.

While calculating splits in my mind, I realized I was going to have a new 100 mile PR as a result of this frantic running. My current PR was 17:05 and I crossed the 100 mile mark at 16:30, shaving 35 minutes of my record.

I found some comfort in that silver lining.

Crossing 100 Miles In 16:30

BRIDGE

I eventually pulled away from Bob for a while and we began to exchange words when we passed each other on the course. We were both very cordial but we were also very focused. He looked strong and that intimidated me. I had to either push on or pull over for him. I reluctantly kept pushing.

Once I had a 7.5 mile lead over Bob, I began to relax but I knew I couldn't let my guard down again. That's what landed me in this mess to begin with.

People at the timing tent were taking notice of the battle between Bob and I. It was a real race and we were slugging it out on the course. More people showed up to photograph us, there were more cheers and encouragement and people were waiting to see if one of us would break. It was becoming a spectacle.

MUDDY TRAIL

Rumors began to filter back to me that Bob was going to stop, but nobody knew exactly why. Was he hurt? Tired? Or did he just not care to keep it up? Nobody knew.

Shortly after that, I saw Bob walking on the trail. Slowly. He gave me the universal "I'm done" sign. I stopped and asked if he was OK and we chatted about his condition. He was having some pains and wanted to avoid any real damage. He planned to finish his loop and call it a day. We went our separate ways and I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.

When I crossed the timing mat at 117.5 miles, I had set a new course record. I checked that off the list, grabbed a gel and kept on running.

I continued on to 120 miles, resuming my easy pace and thinking about how nice it would be to get this race finished so I could take a hot shower and get under some sheets somewhere.

And then...BOOM! I saw Bob back on the course! MAN! This is NEVER going to end!

I ran another 5 miles and we were approaching the 23 hour mark in the race. Bob wasn't gaining any ground on my position and I lost interest in tracking him at this point because he didn't have the time to close the gap between us. I was only focused on being finished with this race.

After finishing 125 miles, the race officials opened up the "short loop" for us to run on. This is a .19 mile, paved loop that sits adjacent to the timing tent. This allows us to log as many laps as we can in the final hour of the race and avoid getting stuck out on the big loop when the race is over. Partial loops don't count, so the small loop is the safest bet late in the race.

As I entered the small loop, I saw Bob getting ready to do the same thing. I slowed down so we could run together and chat about the race.

Bob and I Running Together on the Short Loop

I enjoyed running with Bob and chatting about everything that had happened. I have a tremendous amount of respect for the guy and having a chance to run together at the end of the race was a great way to wrap everything up. It will be an experience that I'll remember forever.

Bob was having some knee pain and he eventually decided to call it quits. For real this time. And I was left alone to run some tiny circles.

At 128 miles, I grabbed a beer from my wife and took the opportunity to walk for a while and chat with the other runners. There are a lot of amazing stories unfolding out there and I wanted to enjoy some of their experience too. I found Davy Crockett, a very inspiring runner from Utah, and we chatted while we walked. I was feeling warm and content. I was in a very good place.

Me and Davy Crockett Walking and Joking

I made it known that I would stop at 130 miles and a few people gathered around the timing tent to yell out my distance every time I crossed the timing mat. I ran the last mile pretty strong and was excited to be done.

Finishing 130.13 Miles in 23:44

Congratulations From The Race Director

I won the race, set a new course record, set a new 100 mile PR and became the Idaho State 24 Hour Champion. I was pretty satisfied with that.

That's a lie. I was freaking ELATED!!!

Top Three and the RD

The plaque we received was actually oil on canvas and is handmade by a local artist, which I thought was very cool.

I was equally impressed with my stuffed Idaho Potato. I've won a lot of swag, but this was my very first stuffed potato. I shall cherish it forever.

This is my third ultra win in the last 4 months, but this one was definitely special because I had to dig deeper than I ever have to pull it off. I fought for nearly 24 hours and ran scared most of that time. I battled my deep desire to quit. To relent and give the lead away so I could rest and stop the pain. It would have been easy to accept second place and it was a very tempting option. But I didn't. I found the will to continue and I pulled it off. I honestly didn't know I had it in me. There's a lesson in there somewhere.

Me and an AWESOME Race Director

This is a fantastic event and I'm really pleased that Jo and I decided to come to Idaho and run it. We had a great time. It's a well managed race with great volunteers, an awesome timing crew, good food and fun people. Simply awesome!

I want to thank all my sponsors, especially Hammer Nutrition for working with the RD to get me into the race. I also want to thank Altra Running for providing the amazing shoes I wore during the event.

Most importantly, I need to thank my awesome and beautiful wife for another excellent performance. She's the best crew member in the history of the sport and I'm lucky to have her.

Thanks to everybody for the continued love and support. 2014 is going to be an incredible year!

White Rim Trail FKT: Chasing a Record

2014-03-09T17:09:00.003-07:00

I came across the idea for this FKT (Fastest Known Time) entirely on accident and have been totally fixated on it ever since. After running the Moab Trail Marathon in November, Jo and I went for a hike in Canyonlands with a couple of friends. Our hiking route tied into the White Rim Trail, which I had never even heard of at the time. Our friends are avid mountain bikers and were very familiar with the trail, and after a few minutes of discussion about the layout and conditions, I became intrigued by the idea of running it. As soon as I got home, I researched the FKT history and learned that the current record was set on December 2, 2006 by Peter Bakwin in a time of 18:43:22. I was hoping for a slower record because running 100 miles in under 19 hours is never a sure thing.

Nonetheless, I immediately began planning my attempt.

My original plan was to make my attempt in the fall, but I ultimately decided that I couldn't wait and bumped it up to March. After a brief illness, I bounced back feeling better than ever. I was running strong, feeling great and decided to seize the opportunity to go for the record while I was riding an unexpected peak.

The White Rim Trail is a loop curse, approximately 100 miles long. In reality, it's a jeep road and also includes about 8 miles of paved road. My first course of action was to decide where to start and which direction to run it. I eventually had to decide if I wanted to follow Peter Bakwin's route, or mimic the route chosen by the current female FKT holder, Jennilyn Eaton. They started in totally different areas and they ran the trail in opposite directions. I eventually decided to follow in the footsteps of Peter, mostly because I was competing with his record, so I wanted to endure the experience in the exact manner he did. Fair is fair.

Challenging Peter's long standing record was something that I took seriously. I was determined to only make the attempt if I thought I had a legitimate chance for success. There must be a reason the record has stood for so long and I wasn't entering into this lightly.

For Jo and I, preparing for a 100 mile run is a matter of routine. Once I had made my decision on the date, time and route, we fell into our natural roles and everything came together like it always does.

Jo and I are like pieces of a watch. We work together flawlessly and support each others movements. Always.

On March 8th, 2014, Jo and I were at the trailhead at the bottom of the Schafer Switchbacks, getting ready for my 5:00 AM departure.

For those that are more visual, here's the video version of my report:

It was 29 degrees at the start of my run, but I knew the climb would be more than enough to warm me up, so I dressed light. I didn't carry anything with me and didn't plan to eat or drink until I saw Jo at mile 13. I was running unencumbered so I could move quickly.

You Know I'm Serious When I Put My Gloves On

The route Peter took, and I copied, starts at the base of the largest climb on the course. I liked the idea of getting this out of the way early. This climb also ends at the spot that the asphalt begins. I also wanted to have that put behind me right away because the thought of running on pavement in the final miles is enough to make me want to break something.

I also like this route because once the big climb is done, the next 20 miles are mostly flat with some rollers, or downhill. I hoped this would let my legs rest after the big climb.

I launched an assault on the Schafer Switchbacks and ran every step all the way to the top. By the time I got to the pavement, I thought I may have made a mistake but my heart rate dropped, my legs loosened up and I was rolling down the road at a solid pace.

The route took me right passed the pay booth, and right out of Canyonlands National Park.

I left the asphalt behind when I turned onto Mineral Bottom Road. This is a wide, well maintained dirt road that leads me back into park. This is probably the most boring section of the run.

Heading Down Mineral Bottom Road

Spectators Along the Course

I was trying to compare my splits to the mileage and times that Peter had reported for his FKT. I knew there was a discrepancy with his mileage, but he tied them to specific locations, so I was ignoring the mileage and focusing on the destinations and his time of arrival.

When I hit Mineral Bottom Road, 13.5 miles into the course, I was 24 minutes ahead of his record pace.

Near the end of Mineral Bottom Road, we descend a steep, relentless set of switchbacks. When I dropped off the edge and made the plunge downward, it was a dizzying site.

Making Time Down the Switchbacks

At the bottom of the hill, we find the White Rim Road. They claim this is the only intersection on the route that may cause a problem if you're not paying attention. I would prove them wrong later in the run.

This portion of White Rim is flat and follows the Green River. After a few miles, we reenter Canyonlands National Park, which is mostly recognizable because the dirt road is suddenly unmaintained.

The Green River

The next milestone was Labyrinth. All of the notable destination points on the course are campgrounds, which makes sense because they're clearly marked with an abundance of signs, and there's little else in the park that would be easy to distinguish.

I reached Labyrinth at mile 34 in 4:51. This put me 56 minutes ahead of the record pace. I was running well and feeling strong, still.

Coming into Labyrinth Campgrounds

Labyrinth to Hardscrabble wasn't particularly noteworthy. Even this early in the run, the park starts to look the same everywhere you look. It's all beautiful, but even being surrounded by beauty gets a little boring after a while.

The trail from Hardscrabble to Potato Bottom was where I really began to worry. Jo was crewing from the seat of my F-150 and she was supposed to stay ahead of me and wait for me to reach her every 5 miles. This distance was established so I wouldn't have to carry much with me. Sometimes I would stop for aid and other times, I might run right on by. As we made our way up Hardscrabble, the terrain was so technical that Jo was having a hard time navigating it. The road was extremely narrow in places, which forced Jo to fold the mirrors in on the truck to keep them getting ripped off by the rocky cliffs. The drivers side of the truck was nearly scraping the vertical cliffs and there was a steep drop off on the passenger side. She was moving so slow that I ended up passing her several times during the ascent, then again on the way down.

I was nervous for her and felt guilty for putting her in that situation. When we cleared Hardscrabble and arrived at Potato Bottom, I was relieved to have that mess behind us. I had no idea that it was just the beginning.

Shoulda brought the Jeep...

When I arrived at Potato Bottom, I was now 66 minutes ahead of the record pace.

From Potato Bottom, I was headed to Candlestick. This was a critical destination for me because it represented the halfway mark on the route. I had decided I needed to arrive there in under 8 hours if I had a serious chance of beating the record.

I arrived at Candlestick in 7:38, now 80 minutes ahead of the record pace.

My "Aid Station" at Candlestick

It had gone from 29 degrees to 62 and it was only 12:30. With a steady wind blowing and no cover, the dry air was taking a toll on my hydration. I was never really wet from sweat, but salt was beginning to form in all the usual places. I was drinking a full 22 ounce bottle of water with Hammer Endurolyte Fizz tabs every 5 miles now. For me, that's a lot of fluid.

I realize that 62 degrees isn't exactly hot, but after coming out of winter, and in those conditions, it felt stifling! It seems like I'm always trying to acclimate to something.

HYDRATE!

Pretty Rocks and Things

I was building a pretty solid lead on the record, but even at 50 miles into a run, there's still plenty of room for things to fall apart fast. I'm an expert that shouldn't be questioned about the potential for sudden failure. Just take my word for it.

After the midway point, I began to settle into a more moderate pace and focused on conserving my strength.

But...I was having fun running out there all by myself and when that happens, it's sometimes hard to reign myself in. I was just happy.

Things were actually going flawlessly. Until we headed up to Murphy. This part of the route starts with some gradual climbing but ends with a steep set of switchbacks that lead to the campground. I found Jo sitting at the base of the climb, which was not where we were supposed to meet. She was sitting there because a group of mountain bikers and crew vehicles were coming down the switchbacks, so she decided to wait. I told her I was going to make the climb and would meet her at the top.

And that never happened.

I ran, walked...almost crawled to the top and spun around to see where Jo was. She was still at the bottom waiting for the last mountain biker to clear the road. That would be the mountain biker that was pushing her bike down the trail rather than riding it.

I decided to wait. I waited...and waited...and noticed I had been there for 22 minutes! I had no time for this, so I reluctantly headed down the trail, which immediately turned into another brutal, steep, narrow downhill. I hesitated before plunging off the side because I was worried about Jo and didn't want to leave her in case there was trouble. But I was here to set a speed record and that wasn't going to happen if I was standing still.

After a fast descent, I looked back hoping to see my truck, and my wife, cresting the mesa. Nothing there. I kept running. Five minutes later I found another viewpoint and looked back toward Murphy, but still didn't see my truck. Now I was getting nervous. I was nervous for her and beginning to worry about myself because I was out of fluids and didn't know where my crew was. Our prearranged stop was at the TOP of the mesa in the Murphy campground and I was now miles past that point.

What if she got the truck stuck? Or a flat tire? Or carjacked by a rogue group of mountain bikers? We were miles apart and she was on the wrong side of me.

Just as panic really began to take hold, I saw the hood of my truck crest the top of the mesa and begin the descent. Relieved, I spun on my heels and headed down the trail, pushing the pace to make up for lost time.

NEW RULE: The crew vehicle is never allowed to be BEHIND the runner. Ever.

The next stop was White Crack. By now, the discrepancies in the published distances and what my Garmin were reading had become significant. Peter had listed White Crack at 66.6 miles and my Garmin got it at exactly 70 miles. I arrived at White Crack in 11:03, now 97 minutes ahead of the record pace.

From White Crack, I was headed to Gooseberry, which was about 8 miles down the road. The sun was fading and the temps were slowly dropping. It felt good and I enjoyed the rolling trail. I was settling into the run well and feeling like I actually had a chance to accomplish my goal. But I Still had a lot of running to do.

Peter Bakwin had a pretty amazing run when he set the record. His splits didn't drop much at all in the second 50 miles of his run, which caused me some concern. When I arrived at Gooseberry I had given back 5 minutes of my big lead, going from 97 minutes ahead to 92 minutes. I had a lot of cushion, but this was not a trend that I wanted to see continue.

From Gooseberry to Airport, I was running a steady string of numbers through my head, which is something I often due when I race 100 milers. I'm constantly calculating splits, miles to run, and developing worst case scenarios and plans to avoid them.

Shortly after mile 80, I realized I could power walk my way to the finish and beat the current FKT by 3 minutes. That wasn't the outcome I wanted, but it provided me with some level of confidence.

I finally began to accept the possibility that I might actually pull this off! I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little excited.

Just Happy to Be Out There

All was right in the world....until we left for the final leg...

We only had 11 miles left and every indication suggested this would be the easiest part of the route. We were home free. Until I got to the parking area for Washer Woman Arch. This is where I found Jo parked, for no particular reason. She explained that the road cuts through the parking lot but she couldn't find where it exited and had been waiting for me to come along and help. I began searching the parking lot, looking for an entrance while she followed me in the truck. We had to look like total idiots but thankfully, there was nobody around to witness my truck slowly creeping behind me as I searched the slick rock for evidence of vehicle tracks so I could lead us out.

After a lengthy and exhaustive search, I found a goat path that some people would call a road and Jo headed on her way and I was right behind her.

I arrived at Airport Campground in 14:50, leading the record pace by only 83 minutes now. It was pitch black with no visible moon, but the stars were amazing. It was still relatively warm and the run was comfortable. I was pushing a slower pace, but I was still running.

Last stop...the finish! But not until I kick every rock on the trail between here and there. Because that's kind of my thing at this point of every 100 mile run.

Cruising Through the Night

Because I didn't know the exact distance to the finish, I asked Jo to turn the truck around when she got back to Potash and leave the headlights on so I could use the truck as a beacon, to guide me into the finish. When my Garmin rolled over to 100 miles, I wasn't surprised that I was still running. When my Garmin rolled over to 101 miles, I began to worry a little bit.

I was scanning the dark night for some sign of the headlights. Nothing. Time was ticking by and I still wasn't finished. I wondered if I got off course somehow, but that seemed unlikely. But still...no headlights and I was STILL running.

I crested a small hill and suddenly saw the bright lights below. I glanced at my watch and realized I had lost a lot of time on that last leg of the run. I ran as hard as I could toward those headlights, trying to shave as much time from the current FKT as possible.

I finished in 17:47:25, 56 minutes faster than the previous record and my Garmin showed 101.7 miles. The trip odometer on my truck showed EXACTLY 100 miles.

Better Technology Than GPS?

Jo tracked my data during the run and constantly kept me updated against the data that Peter Bakwin published after his run. I think Peter took his mileage detail from the National Parks maps. I realize how shocking it could be that the federal government might have made a mistake, but in this case, it seems to be true. Here's a comparison of our data:

Location Peter's Miles Peter's Split My Miles My Split
Potash 0.0 00:00 0.0 00:00
I-Sky Road 5.3 1:02 5.4 :50
Minral Road 13.3 2:18 13.5 1:54
White Rim 26.2 4:33 28.0 3:50
Labyrinth 32.7 5:47 34.2 4:51
Hardscrabble 35.0 6:09 37.0 5:15
Potato Bottom 38.8 6:57 40.8 5:51
Candlestick 49.8 8:58 51.8 7:38
Murphy 59.8 11:01 62.1 9:36
White Crack 66.6 12:40 70.0 11:03
Gooseberry 74.6 14:10 78.0 12:38
Airport 86.1 16:13 89.0 14:50
Potash Road 97.4 18:43:22 101.7 17:47:25

I think Peter's mileage is short and that's supported by other GPS data generated for the run. I also think mine is a little long because GPS data is not perfect. Nonetheless, it's good information to share because very few people have covered the entire distance, especially in a single push.

I'm extremely pleased with how my run went because there was so little room for error if I had any chance to beat the current record. Peter Bakwin set the bar high when he set his FKT in 2006 and it was through him that I became inspired to try to copy, and hopefully improve on what he started. I want to thank him for all the work he has done for the benefit of all of us that are interested in pursuing these records.

I also need to thank Hammer Nutrition, and especially Myke Hermsmeyer for all their help. They went well out of their way to help me with this run. I'm fortunate to have such a great partner in the sport.

But most importantly, I'm thankful for my wife and amazing crew chief. She drops everything so she can help me do the things that I do. I sincerely believe there is no better partnership in the sport of ultra running. I'm a very lucky man.

Jo and I are headed to Idaho so I can the Pickled Feet 24 hour race at the end of the month. I'm planning big things there, so I'll be focused on recovery and training for the next few week.

Thanks to everybody for their support. It was truly an amazing experience!

Elephant Mountain 50k: Running on Empty

2014-02-24T14:32:00.000-08:00

Is it better to DNS or to DNF?

I've heard that question asked dozens of times and I've also listened to a wide variety of responses, backed by individual beliefs or personal reasoning for whatever the respondents opinion is. It seems like an easy enough question but it's not. Not at all. And most importantly, I think the answer reveals a lot about the person answering the question because it drills right down to the very core of what motivates you to run in the first place.

I was faced with that question as I was going into the Elephant Mountain 50k this weekend. I had just come off a miserable race at the Moab Red Hot 55k the previous weekend. I was plagued by severe lower GI issues during that entire race. Then, two days later, I was bedridden with the worst stomach flu I have ever had. During the course of my illness, I lost 10 pounds of my already limited body weight and I had only managed to choke down about 1000 calories all week. And most importantly, I hadn't had ANY beer.

On Friday, I was able to try to run again. It wasn't exactly a confidence building run, but it was a run.

Then that same Friday evening, I flew to Phoenix so I could "race" the Elephant Mountain 50k on Saturday morning.

Well....maybe "race" isn't the right word. Nonetheless, I was headed to Arizona.

I woke up Saturday morning and knew I wouldn't be running the entire 50k. I still felt terrible, but much better than I had in previous days. Jo and I made a plan for my inevitable exit from the race and we headed to the start line.

I met up with a lot of great friends before the race and enjoyed being back at another Aravaipa start line. These are my favorite races and as soon as I got out of the car, I knew I had made the right decision by making the trip.

I met up with Anna Piskorska and Mike Reddy before the race started. These are friends that we met when we lived in Pennsylvania and they had made the trip out west for this race. Anna has always been a runner that I looked up to. She has a very impressive race history and can run with some of the fastest men on the trails. Like me, she is a past Across The Years winner and she has run for the US 24 Hour Team. I was excited to see what she could do at Elephant Mountain.

The weather was blissfully warm, but was going to be uncomfortably warm in a few hours. I didn't plan to be on the trail that long.

Givin' It a Go...

The race starts out with a long runnable ascent on a typical Arizona mountain bike trail. Loose sand and rocks with a few washed ruts mixed in for good measure. I settled into a slow, easy pace and made the climb.

The sun was just coming over the mountains and the desert was quiet and beautiful. I soaked it all in, just happy to be on the trail with what little health I had at the moment.

After cresting the top of the climb, we made a nice, gradual descent into a beautiful valley with sweeping views of saguaro cactus and rolling hills.

I was yielding to anybody that pressed my position, reminding myself that I wasn't racing today. I wasn't even trying to fake it. I was just doing what I could to get down the trail.

Two miles in, I pulled off the trail to adjust my shoe and stepped on a cactus, which promptly lodged needles deep into my foot. I should be used to this by now but it still hurts like hell. Not rushed, I sat down and worked them all out of my feet before moving on.

I felt conflicted about being on the trail because I felt like I was posing as a racer. Part of me wanted to run hard so I could show respect to the event and the other runners and part of me just wanted to roll with the trail and breathe it all in. It's not an easy thing to do when you're a competitive person.

The first aid station came pretty early and I would normally cruise right on by. Today, I stopped. I chatted with the volunteers and drank a few ounces of Coke from the table before pressing on.

Almost immediately, I realized the Coke was a bad idea. My stomach wasn't pleased and started to cramp right away. I knew I would eventually have stomach problems but I didn't expect it in the first three miles.

Acid was rolling up my throat and seemed to stop right at the back of my tongue. I would slow my pace and eventually walk until the acid dropped back into my stomach. After running for a while, the acid would return and I would walk again until it settled. I repeated this for the next several miles, constantly worried that I was going to puke. The puke never came, thankfully.

Despite the stomach problems, I was still enjoying the trail. It was a fast course and probably the prettiest trail that Aravaipa Running uses. I had heard others make the same claim and that was one of the reasons I was so intent on running it, regardless of how I felt.

Stopped to Remove More Cactus Needles From my Feet

I started to get pretty warm and salt was building on my clothes and face. I attempted to drink from my pack but I had to spit it out. My stomach was bloated and the acid started to shoot to the top as soon as I put anything in my stomach. Not being able to hydrate can be a real problem in any race, but there's real danger in the desert.

But I was still enjoying the trail. Seriously.

Around 8 miles, I started to feel better and I pushed the pace for a while. I almost felt normal for the first time all week. I was launching over rocks, cruising down the trail and smiling. I began to think about actually finishing the race. Then I felt like crap again and was smacked back into reality.

This section of the race is a long out and back before we split off and run a loop before finishing. I began to see 50k runners coming back at me and knew I must be getting close to the turnaround.

Jo would be waiting for me there and that's where my day would end.

Mike Reddy Looking Good

I saw Jo waiting on me at the turnaround, at the top of a steep climb. I slowed to a walk and climbed the hill, feeling conflicted about my day. I knew it was over but I didn't want it to be. No matter how hard I tried to talk myself into continuing, my better judgement won out. I was pushing my luck as it was and it was time to call it a day.

When the volunteers asked for my number at check in, I gave it and told them I was "out" and kept walking right to the car where I deposited myself into the seat like a ton a bricks.

We ran to the hotel for a quick shower and fresh clothes and headed back to the finish line so we could cheer for all the inbound runners and enjoy some time socializing.

That's always the best part of any race anyway.

I was especially happy to see Anna finish in 3rd place. She's one of my running hero's and I was excited for her. I knew coming to the heat was going to be a real challenge, considering the winter the east coast has had, but she did an awesome job.

Anna Piskorska Finishing Strong!

I was also happy to be there to see Mike finish. When you mix a good attitude, a lot of heart and some talent, you get a runner like Mike Reddy. He's just a great guy.

Anna Greeting Mike at the Finish

My stomach settled enough that it allowed me to have a cold beer while cheering and nursing the finishers. Being at an ultra finish line is something everybody should do, even if they're not a runner. It's a scene full of drama. Stories are made, filled with epic highs and lows. People are crying, laughing, collapsing and jumping in triumphant joy. Sometimes all at once. There's nothing else like it. It's the culmination of so many things. To me, it's the definition of LIFE.

Is it better to DNS or DNF?

I could have stayed home in Utah, saved some money, got some rest and that would have been fine. Moreover, it would have been the socially acceptable thing to do.

But I didn't.

I flew to Arizona, ran and dropped out. I even KNEW I wouldn't finish, but I still came all that way.

And for me, that was the right decision and I have no regrets.

When running is such a big part of your life, it's mentally devastating when your health or an injury prevent you from doing it, or from doing it well. It's like having a part of you ripped away without knowing if you'll ever get it back. And if you do, you never know if it will be the same again.

Thankfully, for me it's a short lived illness and I'm almost over it. I'm beginning to run well again and my speed is coming back to me. In a few more days, things will be back on track and I'll pick up where I left off.

It's nice to have a place in the running community even when I'm not well. And it felt good to be there for other runners so I could help them enjoy the day they've been working hard towards. It's useful to get that perspective from time to time.

I'm happy that I didn't DNS.

2014 Moab Red Hot 55k: The Impossible DNF

2014-02-17T15:43:00.001-08:00

Have you ever had one of those days when everything just fell into place perfectly? When the running Gods were smiling down on you and you were having the best race ever? I have. But this wasn't one of those days.

Crap. Nothing more. Just CRAP.

Due to some untimely changes in my daily routine, I had been feeling pretty rough lately. I've been eating at odd times and losing sleep. Both were taking a toll. I woke up on race day feeling terrible, but committed to getting this thing done.

Pre-Race with Good Friends

I've run the Moab Red Hot 55k before, so I knew exactly what was waiting for me on the course. Pain mostly. And maybe some variable, and probably annoying weather.

I love this race because it brings out a great crowd of ultra runners. The field is usually stacked with a lot of talent, as this is the "Spring Opener" for a lot of runners. It's definitely not a race that will allow me to be competitive, but it's still a pretty awesome experience. I intended to run it as a training run and my only goal was to have fun and hopefully finish faster than the previous year.

SPOILER ALERT: IT DIDN'T HAPPEN.

The course has variable terrain. Some loose sand, packed sand, gravel, boulders, and of course, plenty of slick rock. The entire race is run on Jeep trails, so just imagine where you would take a borrowed Jeep and that's pretty much it.

After some pre-race mingling, the Race Director, Chris Martinez, sent us on our way.

We're Off!

The first climb is almost instant. It's not a terrible ascent, but it's long and crowded. I ran behind Jenn Shelton for a while, wondering what kind of day she would have. My good friend, Ryan Lauck was running by my side and we were making short work of the climb together. That first hill does a great job of sorting the field out. It forces runners to find their place in a hurry.

Photo by Myke Hermsmeyer Photography

Ryan started to pull ahead of me and I didn't even attempt to keep pace with him. I knew he had a grand plan for the day, and I certainly did not.

Photo by Myke Hermsmeyer Photography

I eventually fell in with Kendall Wimmer, a good friend that I seem to share trail with whenever we're running the same race. I met Kendall at the Bear 100 last year and I credit him with saving several minutes on my finish time because he practically drug me the last three miles, refusing to allow me to walk. I only complied because Kendall is a lot bigger than I am.

"Running" with Kendall Wimmer

Photo by Myke Hermsmeyer Photography

We came to the first aid station and passed right on through without slowing down. We were all chatting and enjoying the run. At least superficially. I was already having trouble but was hoping it would pass.

My stomach felt bloated and it was painful to run. I tried to ignore it, hoping it would work itself out.

It didn't.

We were eventually joined by a couple of other northern Utah runners, one of which was Jen. Jen is a newly sponsored Hammer Nutrition runner, so I'm somewhat partial to her in a race. She's a very tough athlete and an amazing person to know. I was really enjoying our time on the trail, but it wasn't enough to take my mind off the pain brewing in my guts.

I was beginning to worry about it at mile 9.

Photo by Kendall Wimmer

For the sake of complete disclosure, I really had to crap. There's just not a nice, flowery way to say it. I can sugarcoat it all day long, but at the end of the day, there's no way to put a good spin on it.

Part of my brain tried to convince me it was just gas, but I wasn't about to rely on it just yet.

Every runner knows this....NEVER Trust a Fart

I took a big shot of Hammer peanut butter gel around mile 10. This was my first calorie intake of the run, but I had been sipping some water and Endurolyte Fizz from my hydration pack. The gel and water seemed to be compounding the bloating. I needed to get this fixed fast.

Photo by Kendall Wimmer

I began to fade as the pain grew more intense. I stopped to relieve some pressure on my bladder, hoping that would help, but when I stopped running, the pain in my stomach intensified.

Slowly. Grinding. To. A. Halt...

Photo by Kendall Wimmer

I had finally had enough! I pulled off the trail, totally unprepared for a pit stop of this "nature", but I didn't care. I would improvise. Like the Marines. But I bet they keep toilet paper handy. So I'll improvise like a bear in the woods instead.

To my utter astonishment, I found the perfect spot waiting for me. Seriously, this couldn't have been planned any better. Just off the trail, behind a large juniper, I found a downed log and a plant with large, soft leaves. It was natures perfect toilet. I was impressed.

I quickly wrapped up my business and hopped back on the trail. I made a quick stop to pull a few cactus needles out of my left foot (VERY normal thing for me), then I resumed my run.

Things were going well for the first 6 or 7 feet. Then suddenly, the recently vacated area in my body was inundated with a new resident. A bigger, more eager resident.

I plodded along, now seriously annoyed and in pain.

Photo by Kendall Wimmer

I reached the aid station and stopped long enough to tear about 150 feet of paper towel from a roll sitting on the table. As I ran down the trail, the stream of paper towel in my wake must have been a beautiful site.

I was scanning the desert for another PERFECT spot to take a pit stop. This section of the course has very sparse vegetation and I wasn't having any luck finding a place to pull over. I don't think there was enough cover to provide privacy to a Jackalope, let alone an almost full grown man.

I eventually found a spot that would suffice and I hurried through the process. Well...I tried to hurry. The new arrival in my lower GI was evidently reluctant to vacate. I begged and pleaded but faced a lot of unnecessary resistance. After a considerable amount of time, there was some concession on the part of Mr. Hanky, but not nearly enough to improve my situation much. I reluctantly went on my way.

I had lost so much time by this point, that I found myself running among unfamiliar faces. I could tell I was deep in the pack now and still in pain. My chances of improving my position weren't looking good.

Over the next few miles, I stopped 4 more times to try to relieve the pain and I had almost no luck.

My only solace was the natural beauty of Moab. This race course is a beautiful place to run and I tried to focus on the beauty, reminding myself that a bad day on a Moab trail still beats most every other day.

I was still unable to eat and I was only able to drink small amounts of fluid. This only compounded my problems.

When I finally made it to the mile 22 aid station, I had already decided to DNF. There was no way to talk me out of it. My mind was made up. I was DONE.

Or I thought so anyway. Here's the conversation that ensued:

Me: I'm not going to finish. How do I get out of here.
Volunteer: Just head the way your going and you'll find the finish line.
Me: How far?
Volunteer: 12 miles.
Me: Do you know what DNF means?
Volunteer: That's the only way out of here.
Me: How about I drop over the cliff right behind you?
Volunteer: You better have a parachute in that hydration pack!
Me: You're new to this, aren't you?

With the devastating news that I couldn't get off the course, I started walking toward the finish line, trying to scan for a way down and onto a road. It seemed hopeless. I kept heading to the edge of the cliff, hoping to find a gentle way to the bottom. Nothing.

I hunted for ways to DNF but none became apparent. I pondered the expense of an airlift, but decided against it.

Who makes a course that it SO resistant to DNF'ing?? Frustrating.

I began getting passed by a lot of runners. It appears that many of them knew who I was and several were surprised to see me. I got tired of hearing, "HEY! You're Kelly Agnew. (long pause) You must be having a bad day!"

Really? I wanted to hide.

If there had been sufficient building materials on hand, I would have constructed a new house and sent for my things. I didn't want to go another step. But I did.

I knew I had friends WITH A VEHICLE at mile 31. I planned to climb in and get a ride the rest of the way. That's right! I was fully prepared to drop at mile 31. Nothing sounded more appealing to me.

Then I met up with another runner and we began to talk. Before long, mile 31, and my friends came into view. Through the course of our conversation, I realized I was being foolish. I decided to suck it up, endure the pain and finish the race.

The last 3 miles really sucked.

I finished, barely getting in under 7 hours. This is a tough course, but not a 7 hour course. But at that point, I was beyond caring about my finish time. I was just happy to be done.

Sharing the Gory Details with my Bride

Photo by Myke Hermsmeyer Photography

Beer Makes Everything Better. And so do Good Friends.

Luke Nelson. A truly Great Guy.

Hammer Nutrition Athlete, John Fitzgerald, Top 10 Finisher

Photo by Myke Hermsmeyer Photography

After a couple of cold beers and some camaraderie, I began to feel much better. The pain faded, my smile returned and things were back in perspective.

I had planned this as a training run. Albeit, a much faster, more entertaining training run. But I definitely learned some things and I'm happy to have struggled in training so I can maybe avoid it during a goal race. And I had to remind myself that shit happens. and sometimes it doesn't, no matter how hard you try.

During the course of the 34 miles, I only managed to get one gel down and approximately 35 ounces of fluid. Not an ideal fuel strategy for a tough race.

Me and Myke Hermsmeyer. My Hammer Nutrition Sponsor Coordinator.

I'll live to run another day and in retrospect, it wasn't all bad. I enjoyed the company of a lot of really great runners, I enjoyed the beauty of the Moab desert and got to run on bare ground. Things could have been much worse.

I want to thank Hammer Nutrition and Myke Hermsmeyer Photography. Myke is a great guy, an excellent photographer and an amazing partner at Hammer Nutrition. Those guys do a lot to support me in my racing and it's greatly appreciated.

Jo and I will be traveling to Arizona next weekend, where I will hopefully have a much better day! I hope to see many of you out on the trail very soon.

2014 Coldwater Rumble 100: Sun, Sand and Single Track

2014-01-27T18:09:00.001-08:00

"The desert, when the sun comes up...I couldn't tell where heaven stopped and Earth began."- Tom Hanks.

I've always enjoyed running in the desert and I have found that it has a calming, relaxing effect on me, even when I'm faced with the daunting task of running great distances.

I enjoy bearing witness to the living things that forge an existence in such a harsh environment. To survive in that landscape requires strength, intelligence and tenacity. The same qualities that can be found in any ultra runner. It's a natural connection.

Jo and I returned to the Sonoran Desert so I could run the inaugural Coldwater Rumble 100 mile trail race. Coldwater Rumble had existed previously, but the 100 mile distance was new and the course had been totally changed from previous years. After running the 50 mile race last year, I was intrigued by the idea of a 100 mile event on that trail network. I was the first person to jump on the chance to register.

Coldwater was being paired with the Javelina Jundred, and together, they became the Sonoran 200. A chance to run both desert 100's and compete for the best accumulative finish times. A very cool concept and something that I couldn't pass up.

CW100 Buckle and Sonoran 200 2nd Place Trophy

Like a lot of the Aravaipa races, Coldwater is run on a loop course and several race distances are available. The 100 miler consists of five 20 mile loops. The terrain and trail conditions have tremendous variability. There are several brand new trails that are smooth and flawless, but also sections of very loose sand, rocky scrabble, slick rock conditions and rutted, beat down, nastiness. There's something to appeal to every runner, even those with the most discerning tastes.

The elevation gain is mild but there are a lot of sharp, steep inclines that will take their toll, especially if you plan to run hard.

This Looks MUCH Worse Than it Really is

Time to Go!

The race started at 7:00, just as the sun was beginning to poke over the horizon. It was about 52 degrees with a promise of reaching 76 by midday. For a lot of Northern runners, this was going to prove to be a problem.

Mile 0.001!

After a short stretch of asphalt, we turned onto some single track and began a steady climb. I was running somewhere in the top 10 and the competitive juices were flowing up front. No talking, no dirty jokes or laughing...nothing but business as we made the climb.

After finishing the ascent, we made a gradual descent into the valley. The pack was shuffling as we all fell into our groove. I passed a few runners, slowly catching them, settling in behind them for a while, then making my pass. Still, no talking.

These guys were taking this shit seriously. Or maybe they're not morning people.

I fell in behind Christian Rios, an Aravaipa Running Teammate. Christian is notoriously fast so I thought it would be useful to shadow him for the first loop. We came into the first aid station at mile 4.5 and Christian stopped for aid. I hadn't planned to stop that early but I was shadowing the dude, so I stopped too. I grabbed a piece of banana and waited for Christian to roll out. When he reluctantly left the aid station, I urged him to get back in front and he obliged.

We were making an ascent as we left the aid station and Christian just stopped and began to walk. I wasn't sure if he needed to hike or if he was pissed off that I was following him. Either way, it wasn't good, so I made my pass and found myself all alone for the first time during the race.

I had run this section of the trail in training during the winter and was familiar with it. It's fast, scenic and a lot of fun.

Until I hit the sandy wash...

Initially, I thought it was a short crossing and I would be out of the sand quickly. Then it drug on...and on...and on! I've decided that running in loose sand requires a certain technique. A technique that I DO NOT possess. I find it maddening and mentally exhausting. I plowed on as best I could.

The second aid station came at mile 11 and I was in and out without stopping.

This section of trail drops in and out of several washes, has long winding single track and a couple of steep climbs. This is my favorite section of the course and I was having a blast!

I passed through the final aid station at mile 16.7, grabbed a Coke and powered on.

First Loop Done!

I finished the first loop in 3:10 and I felt great. My race plan called for 3:15, which I felt was conservative. I was right on schedule.

When I got into the start/finish area, I dropped my hydration pack and Jo handed me another, fully loaded and ready to go. I strapped it on, got a kiss and headed back out for loop #2.

Yeah...we all go THAT WAY!

It was getting really warm on the second loop and my pace slowed significantly. I wasn't being passed, so I assumed it was the same for the rest of the runners. I was sweating heavily, so I paid close attention to hydration. As usual, I was using the Hammer Endurolyte Fizz tabs in my hydration pack, as well as drinking water and Coke at the aid stations. I was covered in salt, but seemed to be staying ahead of dehydration.

Finishing 40 Miles in 6:51:15

I was a bit off my mark for the second loop, but I wasn't worried. I hadn't expected the heat, so it was better to play it safe early on.

Taking a Minute to Hydrate at 40 Miles

Heading Out for Loop #3!

I was beginning to feel the effects of the heat and the rolling terrain on the third loop. I was running fast enough that I would still be under a beating a sun for several more hours, so I continued with a cautious but determined pace.

Most of the other race distances had finished and the trails were less crowded. While I enjoyed the freedom of empty trails, I also missed the camaraderie of the other runners.

I was walking more of the hills on this loop, taking more time to hydrate and fuel at the aid stations and also trying to soak in some of the warmth and beauty of the desert. The field was totally spread out now and I had a true sense of solitude. I was happy.

The sandy wash section was beginning to grate on my nerves at this point. I ran what I could but eventually relented to the madness of it all and walked some of this section. After hours of being beaten up by runners, the wash was in pretty miserable shape.

I finished the third loop much slower than my race plan had suggested. I was beginning to feel a bit deflated, but I was still in good spirits and having fun.

Heading out for my fourth loop meant that I needed to prepare for night running. I switched to my larger hydration pack and Jo had it loaded with all my essentials. I had a few extra clothing items, extra fuel and my headlamp.

As the sun began to set, the temperature dropped quickly and I had several miles of very comfortable running ahead.

At this point, I was walking all the hills. I also noticed an uptick in the number of rocks I was kicking and my lack of patience for the loose sand. I was beginning to lose my sense of humor about some things.

Yet...I continued to plod on....

The sun set and I donned my headlamp. I love running at night and I felt refreshed. The cool air helped reinvigorate me and I was looking forward to a strong finish.

At mile 77, I began to get really cold. I was wearing my OR waterproof jacket and it wasn't fighting off the cold as well as I had hoped. No matter how hard I ran, I was uncomfortably cold. I decided it wasn't the air temperature, but something wrong with my body. I routinely run in much colder weather without a problem. I pretended to not be concerned, but it weighed on my mind as I wrapped up my fourth loop.

When I came in to the start/finish area for the final time, I took some extra time and bundled up for cold weather running. I swapped my shorts for tights, added heavier gloves and swapped my OR rain shell for my heavier Patagonia soft shell with a hood.

All of this time came at a price and I was passed by another runner while I made my adjustments. I was regretful at first, but soon realized it didn't matter. I wasn't leading the race, so I had little to lose. Comfort is KING when it comes to running 100 miles.

My fifth and final loop took forever. Partly because I was slowing down to talk to the runners that I was lapping, and partly because my ass was thoroughly kicked by this point. I was probably just using the other runners as an excuse to slow down and walk. That fact just occurred to me as I was typing this...

I thanked all the volunteers at the aid stations as I passed through and said my goodbyes. I spent an unusual amount of time staring at the sky and finding wonderment in the stars.

I was tired and ready to end this.

I made the final descent toward the finish and was happy to be running well. I was grateful for the gift and I spent the remaining minutes of my run being grateful. It wasn't a great race but I had fun, felt good and was about to finish another amazing 100 mile adventure. I had no complaints.

Finishing!

20:21:13...7th Overall!

My conservative race plan called for a 20:30:00 finish, but I had secretly been hoping for another sub 20 hour finish. That wasn't in the cards for this race, but I was still very satisfied.

Staying Warm and Telling My Tale to Nick Coury

Being Greeted by the #1 Crew Chief in the Business!

Bonus Swag for Finishing the Sonoran 200! A Tasty IPA!

2nd Overall for the Sonoran 200

After an appropriate amount of socializing, Jo and I headed back to the hotel for a shower and few hours of restless sleep before returning to the finish line.

I never miss an opportunity to watch the late finishers of any 100 mile race. It's the perfect display of guts and tenacity. I find far more inspiration in those athletes than I do in any finish by an elite runner. These people are digging deep to tough it out far longer than I ever could. It's an amazing spectacle of courage and strength.

I also got an opportunity to cheer on friends and provide support and encouragement to all kinds of runners. Despite being beaten, battered and exhausted, I found it to be an invigorating experience.

My Friend Matt Hagen, Always Happy and Encouraging

Matt's Lovely Bride, Betsy Rogers, Getting it DONE!

I've had an amazing winter running in Arizona while enjoying that time with my beautiful wife and amazing friends. It has been a blessing to have the time to devote to the things that bring me physical and mental health and having a chance to share that time with the people I love.

Coldwater Rumble was a great way to bring all those things together. I was able to run an amazing race, surrounded by great friends and we all shared the adventure together. It was a perfect weekend of running and camaraderie.

Friends

Coldwater Rumble is destined to become a popular race. Partially because of the course and the time of year, but mostly because it's an Aravaipa Running event. These guys do races better than anybody and they deserve all the success that is destined to come their way. The course was perfectly marked, the aid stations are quite literally the best in the world and the volunteers are amazing.

I'm thrilled to have been one of the first people to ever finish this race and I highly recommend it to anybody that wants to try a runnable, but challenging 100 miler. The beauty of the desert in the winter is a great way to reinvigorate yourself for the upcoming race season.

I want to thank the entire Coury family for the incredible experience and I want to thank my amazing wife for getting me through another 100 mile adventure.

After a short break, we'll be headed to Moab for the Red Hot 55k! I hope to see many of you on the slick rock!

Happy Trails!

My Date With the Big Ditch: A Solo Winter R2R2R on a Whim

2014-01-16T07:59:00.000-08:00

WARNING: Do not attempt to hike from the canyon rim to the river and back in one day. Each year hikers suffer serious illness or death from exhaustion.

Said No Ultra Runner Ever!

I had always planned to run the famous Rim to Rim to Rim adventure run in the Grand Canyon. I think it's one of those things that I feel compelled to do, just so I can check it off the list as being completed. I always envisioned sharing this adventure with a few close friends so we could encourage and support each other along the way. Maybe a Boys Weekend...some male bonding mixed with intense trail running. That plan sounded pretty appealing.

But that's not what happened.

After spending a week of trail running through Moab and then into the Phoenix area, it was time for Jo and I to load up and drive back to Ogden, Utah. I was still itching for a bit of adventure, pondering another stop on the way home so I could hit some new trails. Suddenly, and with absolutely no fanfare, I blurted out, "HEY! Let's stop by the Grand Canyon so I can run the rim to rim to rim before we go home!"

Like with most of my adventure ideas, my loving bride looked at me, holding my gaze for a few seconds before saying, "Sure. I'll get us a hotel near the rim."

It's fair to say that I really didn't know anything about this run before I decided to tackle it. I wasn't even sure it could be done in January. I got online, read a few reports from runners of varying skill and ability levels, and decided I had gained sufficient knowledge to determine that I could get it done in a reasonable amount of time.

We drove directly to Tusayan, checked into our hotel, and went into the park to get some maps. While eating some overpriced pizza and drinking a few overpriced beers, I laid out my plan for the next day.

The weather was forecasted to be 12 degrees on the south rim when I planned to start my run and a high of 54 during the day, so I assumed it would much warmer deep in the ditch. I planned my clothing strategy accordingly.

We woke up at 3:00 AM so I could get my gear assembled and we were at the South Kaibob trailhead by 4:50. I could see that my bride was a little nervous at the thought of me dropping over the rim in the dark, all by myself. I gave her a few words of encouragement, a soft kiss and then dropped into the canyon at 5:00 AM.

My descent is best described as a moderately controlled free fall. Getting to the river fast was a key element of my plan. My feet skidded along the terraced trail, slipping on rocks, bouncing off water bars, and kicking the occasional mule turd. It was very dark and as my headlamp peered over the edge of the canyon, there was nothing but emptiness to be seen. I focused on staying upright, and most importantly, on the trail.

The fine, powdery dust was my biggest problem. The trail was very dry and my feet were kicking up a dust cloud that swarmed around my body like Pigpen. My headlamp caught the dust more than the trail, which made it very difficult to see my feet. I tripped and stumbled a few times but managed to stay upright.

When I arrived at Cedar Ridge, the trail spilled out into a large open rest area. I wasn't here to rest, but couldn't find where the trail made its exit. I started to circle the perimeter in a counterclockwise circle until I found my way out. I continued my descent, a little miffed that they didn't have the trail marked a little better. But maybe they don't expect trail runners to bomb down to the bottom of the canyon in the dark.

I paused briefly at Tip Off to adjust some gear and I heard a new sound. My ears strained to pick it up but I instantly recognized it as the sound of rushing water. The Colorado River! I was close! I started running with renewed enthusiasm...into the void.

After a few tight switchbacks and some steep downhill, I found myself running through a tight tunnel carved through the stone. The moon and stars were temporarily lost, along with the sound of the river. When I emerged, the sound of rushing water was intense and I found myself dashing across a long suspension bridge. I was in the bottom of the canyon!

I crossed the river and turned onto a nice section of flat, well groomed trail. It felt great to be running on the flats again. I picked up my pace, feeling a bit exhilarated. It was still totally black as I ran through Phantom Ranch. I was struck by the number of cabins in the bottom of the canyon. It wasn't what I expected. It was somewhat surreal running through this small community in such a remote place. There was some light coming from a few of the cabins and I could hear the constant hum of a generator somewhere in the distance. I sailed through this little village, totally unseen.

I was making great time through the bottom of the canyon, enjoying some decent leg speed on flat ground and launching myself over the low rollers along the way.

Shortly before I began my ascent up to the north rim, the sun began to make its appearance in the canyon and I could finally switch my headlamp off and take in the sights.

I had started my run with a down jacket, which I shed before I reached the river. That left me with a light rain shell for warmth. I finally shed that as well, as the temperature and physical intensity rose.

The canyon was tight and it was difficult to grasp where I was running. The rim wasn't visible from below. I felt like I was being swallowed by the steep walls.

The trail was comfortable and runnable for the first 16 miles and I was making excellent time. The last 5 miles before the north rim started to bog me down a bit. There were some steep climbs and a few fast sections sprinkled in. I was able to power up the ascent fairly well, but I was also focused on reserving some energy for the return trip. I kept a cautious but strong pace to the top.

As soon as I reached the top of the north rim, I touched the trailhead sign, turned around and began the return trip. I didn't want to linger and risk getting cold at this point and I was eager to get back to the river.

The decent went much better than my run down the south rim. That's likely the result of having daylight to help me along my way, but I also found this trail to be more runnable. I really enjoyed the fast trip back down but my quads were beginning to protest well before reaching the bottom.

I was back to the bottom of the canyon much faster that I expected and my legs were beginning to revolt a bit. I decided to walk for a half mile while my legs took a break and I got some calories in my belly. I ate some Hammer peanut butter gel, a Hammer Bar and spent some time getting my fluid levels back up. After a few minutes of restful walking, I was feeling renewed and ready to push the pace again.

I encountered my first hikers about a mile before getting back to Phantom Ranch. With an early January start, I had been able to selfishly enjoy the trail all to myself up until this point. I flashed a big smile and greeted the hikers as I sailed by them. I'm sure I left some curious thoughts in their minds as I cruised down the trail.

Returning to Phantom Ranch in the daylight was a highpoint of the trip. The ranch is really cool and I wish I had more time to explore what it has to offer. I kept moving but tried to soak it all in as I did.

Before exiting the camp, I saw the famous mule train arriving for their daily supply run. I had planned my trip in hopes of seeing the animals, but I was trying to avoid sharing the trails with them. My timing was perfect, as they were peeling off the trail just as I came along.

I had considered returning to the south rim via the Bright Angel trail. It's about 2.5 miles longer but its supposed to be an easier climb out. I was very tempted to head down that trail but I wanted a "pure" out and back experience, so I continued toward South Kaibab.

Turnoff for the Bright Angel Trail

I soaked up the last bit of flat trail as the Black Bridge came into view. I knew once I crossed it, it would be nothing but climbing for the rest of my day.

Running across the bridge was really cool. I had missed all the scenery earlier in the day due to the early morning darkness. I was in awe of the powerful river that took its precious time carving this amazing canyon.

As soon as I exited the tunnel, I was greeted by a steep climb. I pointed my toes up the trail and settled into a strong power hike.

I was alternating between hiking and running. I only attempted to run when the ascent, trail conditions and my lungs were inclined to play along. I was making good time back toward the top but I wasn't having much fun at this point.

I was getting warm and I drank from my pack liberally. I felt tired, but well hydrated. I was nailing my electrolytes and fuel intake.

The ascent provided me the opportunity to see all the details that I had missed on my way down in the dark. I was a little surprised by how much exposure there was in some sections of the trail and I decided it was probably best to be unaware during the descent. If I had known, I would have been far more cautious and it would have been a much slower trip to the river.

Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

The emergency phone at Tip Off was piquing my curiosity. I slowed down and desperately wanted to figure out how this thing worked all the way down here but I decided to press on, wondering how many calls are logged on that thing each year.

I found a few stretches of prolonged running and took advantage of every bit of it. The skies were cloudless, the sun was out and the temperature was perfect for running. I couldn't have picked a better day to be in the canyon.

During the ascent, I decided every airline must route their planes directly over the Grand Canyon so their customers can get a glimpse of this natural wonder. There were never less than eight planes flying overhead at any given time. I enjoyed the distraction they provided.

When I reached Cedar Ridge, I knew I only had 1.5 miles left to the top. I stopped and found a perch on a rock so I could take a minute and enjoy the remaining moments of my time below the rim. I reached into my pack and grabbed my last Hammer bar. I engulfed it in a few bites, knowing I would need the energy for the last steep swtchbacks. I reached back in my pack and brought out a PBR that I had saved for this exact moment. I quietly celebrated a personal victory in the making. I polished off the beer, loaded my trash into my pack and headed back up the trail.

After leaving Cedar Ridge, I began to encounter a lot of hikers. Most of them weren't dressed or equipped to be below the rim. Many of them were in street shoes, jeans and weren't carrying water.

I realized the warning sign was designed for THESE people.

After a short while, I began to hear voices echoing off the canyon walls and realized I was hearing people at the rim. I looked up and the edge of the rim was now visible. I hunkered down and ran the last 1/2 mile to the top.

My feet struck asphalt on flat ground and I ran to the trailhead sign, finishing the Rim to Rim to Rim in 9:21:57.

When I erupted from the canyon, I expected to be hugged by my bride. She wasn't there. My grin faded as I looked around and confirmed she wasn't in the parking lot.

CRAP!

I dug my phone out of my pack and learned she was waiting down the road, beyond the gate to the trailhead. The road to the trailhead is closed to public traffic, but we had ignored that when she dropped me off in the morning, Now, with the presence of Park Rangers, she wasn't welcome to park in the lot.

I buckled my pack up and ran the mile to the end of the access road where she was waiting. That is where I got my hug and we celebrated another successful adventure!

I was left with a feeling of accomplishment, but I was also slightly deflated. Running in January means I had limited daylight, so I missed some perspective that I would have otherwise had. I was mostly disappointed because I didn't wait for a time that I could share this experience with a group of friends. It's really an adventure that should be shared.

R2R2R is now checked off the list!

Here's a list of all the gear I took for a winter R2R2R adventure:

- Running tights
- Short sleeve tech shirt
- Long sleeve tech shirt
- Smartwool socks
- NB 1400 shoes
- Outdoor Research Helium II waterproof jacket
- Outdoor Research Transcendent down jacket
- Running gloves (2 pairs)
- Kahtoola Microspikes
- Osprey Rev 6 hydration pack (1.5 liter)
- Hammer Nutrition peanut butter gel (2 flasks)
- Hammer Bars (5)
- Hammer Endurolyte Fizz Tabs (1 tube)
- Candy bars (3)
- Cell phone (airplane mode to preserve battery)
- Trail maps
- PBR

Thanks for checking out my story. I'll be resting in preparation for the Coldwater Rumble 100 mile trail run on January 25th. More fun and adventure in the Arizona desert!

2013: Year in Review

2014-01-05T14:17:00.005-08:00

At the end of 2012, Jo and I moved to northern Utah so I could have the opportunity to have access to some of the best mountains in the country to train on. We bought a small house with direct access to an extensive trail system and I immediately went to work in those mountains. I increased my training mileage, focused on more vertical gain and worked on improving my technical trail running.

I think it paid off.

I also had the good fortune of joining the best trail running group in the world. I'm not just saying that...Trail Runner Magazine said it first, I'm just repeating a fact. The Happy Utah Mountain Runners (HUMR's) showed me the local trails, ran with me, encouraged me and helped me become a much better runner than I was before I moved to Utah. They really are some of the best people on Earth.

HUMR Nation and Global Domination!

2013 brought me additional sponsors to compliment my existing relationship with Hammer Nutrition. I was featured in several media spots and interviews and finally, at the end of the year, I won the last two races on my schedule.

It has been an amazing, exciting and educational year. Here's a quick snapshot of my 2013 running season.

Running Stats:

ALL RUNNING

Total Miles- 4043

Avg. Miles Per Day- 11.08

Total Running Days- 335

Total Rest Days- 30

Avg. Miles Per Running Day- 12.06

ALL RACING

Total Races- 38

Total Miles Raced- 1673.3

Avg. Miles Per Race- 44.03

If you would rather watch the photo slideshow version, you can click the video below!

2013 Year In Review- Youtube

Coldwater Rumble 50M

My season started in Arizona where I ran the Coldwater Rumble 50 miler. I came into this race well rested and feeling good. I love running in the desert.

1/19/13
Coldwater Rumble 50 Miler
8:48:31
5th Place Overall

Running the Caribbean

This was my second year of running and racing in the Caribbean. It's a great way to escape the cold and get some valuable speed work in!

1/27/13 St. Croix 5k 20:19:02 2nd Place
1/28/13 St. Maartan 5M 33:02:42 1st Place
1/29/13 Antigua 8M 55:13:21 3rd Place
1/30/13 St. Lucia 5m 35:42:09 1st Place
2/1/13 Barbados 5k 22:13:12 15th Place

Moab Red Hot 55k

Moab is a favorite place for me to run and train in the winter. I logged a lot of training runs on the red rock, including the miles in this race. I ran Red Hot as a supported training run and had a blast with a lot of great friends.

2/16/13

Moab Red Hot 55k

6:15:06

125th Place (ugh)

Antelope Island Buffalo Run 100M

The Buffalo Run was my first 100 miler for 2013 and it's a home town race. It was brutally cold at night and it almost forced me to DNF.

3/22/13
Antelope Island Buffalo Run
20:24:13
9th Place Overall, 2nd Place Age Group

American River 50M

I ran the American River 50 because I had heard so many people rave about this race. They're all lunatics. I thought the race was ridiculous.

4/6/13
American River 50 Miler
8:32:28
90th Place

Amasa Back

Back in Moab for Amasa. I vowed to run more shorter trail races in 2013 and this was one of them. It's a fun, small race and I had a blast!

4/13/13
Amasa Back 16M
3:31:03
3rd Place

Zion 100

I was back in Zion to finish what I had started the previous year. After suffering my first ever DNF, I made this race a priority for 2013. This is a great race with a great RD. I love running here!

4/19/13
Zion 100
21:44:02
13th Place

Provo City Marathon

I ran the Provo Marathon as a training run. As a bonus, I qualified for Boston in the process and took 7th place overall.

5/4/13
Provo City Marathon
3:12:02
7th Place

Ogden Marathon

I ran Ogden as another training run and I had heard great things about the race. Besides, as a distance runner, I can't turn down a chance to run my hometown marathon. It wasn't bad for a road race.

5/18/13
Ogden Marathon
3:41:18
131st Place

Wyoming Rocky Mountain 50k

This race sounded like fun and I had never ran in Wyoming before. I went out WAY too fast and paid a heavy price, but it was still a pretty cool race.

5/26/13
Wyoming Rocky Mountain 50k
5:29:12
5th Place

Comrades Marathon

The Comrades Marathon was a bucket list race. Spending a week in South Africa was an amazing experience. Running 56 miles under the heat of the African sun, was not so amazing!

6/2/13
Comrades Marathon
10:19:21
453rd Place

Adrenaline Night Run 65K

I was back in Arizona for another ultra. This race began at sunset and it was 106 degrees at the start. It only dropped to 91 at night. The race was brutal and the attrition rate was high. I loved it!

6/8/13
Adrenaline Night Run 65k
6:59:02
2nd Place

Black Hills 100

I ran the Black Hills 100 because it looked like a challenging, low altitude race. It was a beautiful out and back course and I really enjoyed the event. But I won't be back.

6/29/13
Black Hills 100
23:05:12
11th Place

Leadville 50M

Running the Leadville 50 has become an annual tradition for me. It's a great tune-up race before the Leadville 100. It serves as a reminder that 12,000' is no joke!

7/14/13
Silver Rush 50 Miler
8:42:02
35th Place

Speedgoat

I came into Speedgoat with tired legs and a lot of big races on the horizon. I fell way behind, wasn't running well and didn't like what was happening. I dropped from the race at Hidden Peak.

7/27/13
Speedgoat 50k
DNF

Jupiter Peak

Jupiter Peak Steeplechase is a 16 mile mountain race in Park City and it has a TON of gain for such a short race. I ran this race with my buddy Leon and we had a blast!

8/3/13
Jupiter Peak Steeplechase
2:58
32nd Place

El Vaquero Loco 50k

El Vaquero Loco is run on the most beautiful course I have ever set foot on. This race has over 9,000 feet of gain in 31 miles but the scenery will distract you from the pain.

8/10/13
El Vaquero Loco 50k
7:32:12
29th Place

Leadville 100

This was my 3rd Leadville 100 and my 3rd finish. It was also my 3rd failed attempt to go sub 25 hours. I'll keep going back until I get it right.

8/17/13
Leadville Trail 100
26:19:14

Labor Pains Ultra

Labor Pains is technically a 12 hour timed event, but in the three years that I have run it, I have ran a 50k, grabbed a beer and jumped in as a pacer for friends. This year was no different.

Mid Mountain Marathon

The Mid Mountain Trail is one of my favorite local trails for training and I expected to run well at this race. I bonked early and struggled to stay in the race. It could have been worse.

9/7/13
Mid Mountain Trail Marathon
4:08:12
12th Overall

The Bear 100

The Bear is another local race and I was excited to get a chance to run it. It's a legit mountain 100 and is as brutal as it is beautiful. I loved every painful step and will back in 2014!

9/27/13
The Bear 100
25:34:14
33rd Place

Ingalls Creek Trail FKT

The FKT isn't a race but it was probably the most meaningful run of mine in 2013. That was the very first trail I ever set foot on as a child and it holds a lot of special meaning to me. I shaved over an hour off the old record.

Pony Express 100

I had high hopes for the Pony Express 100. I was feeling strong and definitely felt like a podium spot was within reach, and possibly the win. I ran hard and fell a little shy of the 1st spot, thanks to the strong running of Matt VanHorn.

10/18/13
Pony Express Trail 100
18:02:57
2nd Place Overall

Javelina Jundred 100M

One week after Pony Express, I was at it again, this time I was running the Javelina Jundred down in Arizona. This was my third JJ100 and I still love that race.

10/26/13
Javelina Jundred
19:18:32
8th Place Overall

Moab Trail Marathon

The Moab Trail Marathon is a tricky, technical course with a a lot of mental barriers for me. I really enjoy the race but can't seem to learn how to run it correctly.

11/3/13
Moab Trail Marathon
5:22:57
125th Place

Pass Mountain 50k

Back in Arizona for another great ultra in the desert. Aside from the constant cacti attacks, I really had a lot of fun at this race.

11/17/13
Pass Mountain 50k
5:18:34
5th Place Overall

Cajun Coyote 100

Cajun Coyote was my first race win EVER! I led every mile of this race and had a great time, aside from the typical stress of leading a race. I felt great and ran hard. Winning is an amazing feeling.

12/7/13
Cajun Coyote 100
19:01:10
1st Place Overall

Across The Years 48 Hour

The only thing better than winning the CC100 was to be able to follow that up three weeks later with a win at ATY 48 Hour race. I ran 201.5 miles for the win and was so far ahead that I was able to stop running 7 hours early.

12/30/13
Across The Years 48 Hour
201.5 Miles
1st Place Overall

The two wins in December certainly weren't expected and I'm thrilled to have finally felt that level of accomplishment after logging so many race miles on the trail. It really is an incredible feeling and can't possibly describe the emotion in writing. I feel so grateful to have been able to win those races this year.

I need to thank Hammer Nutrition, Gear:30, Klymit and Osprey Packs for all their support in 2013. But mostly, I need to thank my wife, Jo Agnew. She works as hard as I do to make these races happen. She keeps me on my feet and moving forward late into the night and there's no other crew member or support team in ultra running that can match her skill and determination. I couldn't do it without her.

2014 looks to be another amazing year filled with running adventures all over the world. We're looking forward to another excellent year! Thanks for following along and providing so much support and encouragement. We'll see you on the trails soon!