Before
After-
My friend B.J. Haeck wrote a great writeup of his Wasatch 100 experience, to share with a few friends, and I suggested it might be good to throw it up on the World Wide Web, for it to be read whereever the four winds blow, as it had all sorts of good info. BJ was kindly agreeable--nice not to be shy. His two conditions were that I also post his "Before" and "After" pictures, which are above---hilarious; and that I provide his contact information, in case anyone would like to reach him. Email: bengator & y&hoo.com. Here's his solid gold writeup:
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Sometime in the winter, I got an e-mail from Scotty. He said, "Hey, lets put in for the lottery for Wasatch!" I thought long and hard about it. Wasatch had the reputation of being one of the hardest races, if not the hardest race, on the 100 mile calendar. I only had 1 of those under my belt, and that was the relatively mild San Diego 100. After much thought, and a little badgering by Scotty, I finally said "OK", figuring if none of us got in, great. If Scotty got in and I didn't, great. I would go pace him. If I got in and Scotty didn't, great. I would give him my number and I would go pace him. The chances of us both getting in were less than 10 percent. No worries. Then the results came in. Oops.
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So here I was about 9 months later, staring at the dark sillouhette of cliffs looming above me, thinking about the 100 miles that lay between me and my next beer. The day in question broke clear and cold. Well, it didn't actually break yet. It was 4:55 and I had just arrived at the start line after a short night sleep following a battle with my ipod shuffle to load just the right music. As I grabbed my pack from the car, I heard the call of "Two Minutes!" I jogged to the start line, running into my friend Scotty by pure luck just before the start. Suddenly, before I had time to get nervous (or use the bathroom), we were off! Scotty had forgotten a light, but there was a string of headlamps that strung out in the distance, so the trail was fairly well lit. Ahead of me, and behind me, the string of lights up and down the trail like Christmas lights on a tree, outlined where I had been and where I had to go. I sat in the back of the pack, content to move along at everyone else's place. Every once and a while someone would crash by, anxious to move up a few places. I didn't think that a few minutes here or there this early would make that much of a difference. Somewhere in the first few dark miles, Scotty stopped to tie a show and I lost him.
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After about 4 miles of nice single track running with a few creek crossings, the race turned up hill, with volunteers waiting to collect the water bottles distributed at the start, a bottle which I had missed out on. But I had three bottles in my pack plus an insulated water bottle in my hand, so i figured I was OK. I was wearing a vest, long sleeved shirt and short sleeved shirt, which was too hot at the beginning, but I would be grateful shortly.
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The trail up was narrow and rocky and often overgrown. It was mostly switchbacks with occasional steep stretches. As sunlight came over the crest, bringing a gray pallid light to the day, I reached a traverse running south and towards some pine trees. After the pine trees, the trail bucked up to the fabled chinscraper. In all actuality, the climb, while long, was not that steep, even at the end. The last 5 minutes at most were truly difficult, but really nothing compared to the hills that were to come. I stepped by someone who was already struggling and knew that he was going to be in trouble. I still thought I was going to be in trouble.
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I hit the top of Chinscraper right at 8, which was right on my schedule. I was surprised by the number of short but steep climbs that dotted the way from the top of Chinscraper to Francis Peak, which was visible for miles around as 2 golf ball shaped radar domes. The views back down to the west over the Salt Lake and the cities nestled along the Wasatch front were especially spectacular. I stopped at one such place to relieve myself with a view, and lo and behold Scotty went up behind me and on, not to be seen until the end of the race.
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Eventually we came up a short climb with John Grobben, the race director, at the end, waiting with a few good words and a pitcher of water to top off the bottles. Then a little more climbing, and a beautiful, runnable downhill pitch on a smooth road, the last one we would see all day. But, with about 4 beautiful downhill miles between the radar domes and the first aid station at mile 19 at Francis Peak, I suddenly got cramps in my hamstring behind my right knee. I had never had any problem there before, and I worried for a moment that I had damaged my knee somehow. So I slowed to a walk for a few minutes and made sure to eat and drink as I headed downhill. After a few minutes I tested it again, with no luck. So I walked again for another few minutes, but then I tried again, and success! As long as I kept it below a certain level, my body seemed to cooperate, so I enjoyed the long blissful downhill, leaning forward and letting gravity do the work. I pulled into Francis Peak at almost exactly 10 AM, right on my schedule.
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A quick turnaround put me out on the section to Bountiful B aid only about 5 miles away. I could not make any speed on the flats, so I resigned myself to a jog/walk combination as the 4WD road headed through Aspens and down past beaverponds into a valley, The course then turned onto a brushy trail, difficult to follow in places, and with steep pitches insterspersed with Aspen laded meadows which served as platforms to catch your breath before you launched upwards again. I passed a few people on the uphills here and finally broke out onto Skyline Drive and the aid station there.
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The road from Skyline to Sessions was rolling, but with a lot of downhill and I found myself making decent time. I found the BYU v. UW game on the radio to keep me focused as we tackled a series of short but steep ups. The Session Hills laid out before us and then the trail to Swallow Rocks, which was for the most part a beautiful traverse along the sides of the hills. I found myself passing people on the uphills and getting passed back on the flats and downs, a trend that would continue right to the end of the race.
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At Swallow Rocks, my stomach was having problems, but I was promptly rescued by turkey sandwiches cut into quarters and individually wrapped which I stuffed in my pockets as well as a grape popsicle that was quickly replaced after my first one plopped to the ground.
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The run from Swallow Rocks to Big Moutain was a good stretch for me with a lot of traverse running, a few hills, and then a big fun downhill to the aid station. You could hear the cowbells and screaming from a long ways away before you hit the switchbacks past the streamers and pink flamingos at the aid station. I almost got run over by a motorcycle crossing the street, but was then quickly directed to the weigh in where it was revealed that I had lost 8 pounds so far, and it was just 5 PM. Yikes! I sat and ate what I could, having already ingetsted those yummy turkey sandwich quarters, put on a warm vest, and headed out for Alexander Ridge.
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The Section between Big Mountain and Alexander Ridge looks mostly downhill on the profile, but there is definitely some climbing before the payoff. Like before, I found myself with a group of three people, stuck behind on single track on the way up but then losing them on the flats. I gradually became frustrated, but soon I had somehow gotten ahead of both of the runners and their pacers and was by myself. On the section between here and lamb's canyon, I passed 11 runners and did not get passed back. Knowing that I finished last, and knowing who passed me at the various other times during the race, I know that these guys didn't finish. Getting back to the run, I got to some fun downhill when YIKES I got stung by a bee in the back of the knee. I saw the bee hive was actually in the ground next to the trail and I had stepped on it. Yelping a little, I pushed on down the ridgeline, looking for the obvious path to the aid station. I never saw the aid as I ran on the south side of the basin until I was almost right on top of it. Again, a quick stop and fill up of water and out I went.
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It was starting to get dark now, but I was trying to avoid turning on my light as long as possible. I was worried about getting lost in this section, but I knew if I followed the power lines, everything would work out. Luckily, I was right. The trail here was through knee high grass and very mellow. Even when the trail turned off, the climb was minimal. However, the trail was more of a bushwack marked by ribbon here and there. It was completely dark by this time, and I wished I had been faster to reach this section in the day as it was slow going from marker to marker. Finally, Lamb's canyon aid station was seen below, but I had been told that things would twist and turn before I actually got there. I was glad I had been warned as the run, while downhill, seemed to take forever. As I got close, I ran right through a stream I hadn't seen through the overgrown trail. Cold, wet feet for the night. Ugh.
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Finally, about 9:40, I pulled into Lamb's Canyon, still feeling OK and ready for night running. Lambs was chaos to me, with lots of runners, crews, and pacers running around and about 5 or 6 different tents set up. However, as they were going to forego this station altogether only a few days earlier, I wasn't one to complain. I grabbed a cup of soup and a grilled cheese. I also changed into dry socks, if not dry shoes, and warm clothes for the night. After a slower stop than I would have liked, I was out the station on the paved road up to Mill Creek. I chatted on the cell with a few people as I planned, as the road was smooth and the Utah-UNLV game which had held my attention was over. I powerwalked the trail and turned off my light, enjoying the stars. The course then left the paved road up Lamb's Canyon and up over the Elbow Fork trail.
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This part of the course was much more difficult than expected. Not only was it brushy and steep, but it also was slippery as the temperature cooled and moisture coated the trail. After a difficult uphill stretch, finally the trail made a downward turn, but it was difficult to run given the steepness and loose rocks. I reached the bottom about the same time as two other groups, and I put myself directly behind them walking up the road to Mill Creek, just trying to hold onto their shadows. I turned off my light again, only turning it on to show upcoming cars where I was. Unfortunately, I found this section to be fairly boring as there was nothing on the radio and I was realizing that I still had a long way to go. Finally, Mill Creek was in sight. After another slow stop, I was off on my way to Desolation Lake.
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I really enjoyed this section, having scouted it and run it two days before in daylight. The inclines were very gentle and the trail wide and smooth. I powered up the trail. Soon, I was caught from behind by Ray. Ray lived in Seattle, as had I, so we had much in common. He also knew Scotty and was pleased to hear Scotty was somewhere ahead of us. Ray also was the drum major for the Stanford Band that went out onto the field against Cal for that famous play. You never know who you are going to meet at these things. Ray was staying with me on the climbs, but I felt I would lose him as soon as we hit any significant downhill.
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We heard some crashing off to our left as we went up towards dog lake. I shone my light off the trail and saw a black bear walking through the woods. Not worried, but not knowing if Ray would worry and not thinking Ray had seen what I had seen, I made some joke about some runner going to the bathroom in the woods. Ray said, "Maybe its a bear." Yeah, Ray, maybe . . .
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As we hit some downhill, I was back on my own again with a slog up to Desolation Lake ahead of me. I was managing to keep down fruit snacks as I tried to find anything on the radio. Finally, giving up, I pulled out my Ipod and started listening to old Art Bell broadcasts. I pulled into Desolation lake being careful to sit way away from the comfortable looking fire. Then it was a power trip up red lovers ridge to Scott's Peak. This section was much easier than I had thought it would be, although I had a little navigation problem finding the exact way up to the very top. That was followed by some ridgeline running where I caught up to Ray again, which surprised me. He said he needed some energy, so I offered him some gels which he took and then powered into the darkness.
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I knew it was starting to get light as I ran along the ridge from Scotts Peak, and also knew I wanted to be at the Brighton aid station about 6:30, keeping plenty of buffer over any time cut offs so I wouldn't have to worry about being timed out. Knowing this, I tried to motor from Scott's to Brighton, and again passed a few people on the way down who I would not see again, meaning they eventually dropped at some point. Surprisingly, I caught Ray about a mile from the aid station and we shared stories until we got close to the station. It was the last I would see of him as he would finish at least a half hour in front of me.
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Brighton was a little warm ski lodge. I weighed in and was still about 10 pounds down, so I was OK. They had lots of stuff there, but scrambled eggs sounded GOOD, so I slurped down 2 plates full as I reloaded for another day out there. God, could I really have 10 hours of running still to go? It seemed impossible, and I tried not to think about it. I had a sour stomach and was tired, but still felt relatively good and confident I could finish. I pulled out of Brighton a little after 7, a little later than I would have liked, but still with plenty of buffer I felt. I put on my audio novel for the day: Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms. There's something about ultra running and Hemingway that mesh well to me. My last and only other 100 I had enjoyed To Have and Have Not, so I figured I had to have some kind of tradition.
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By now the sun was just beginning to light the peaks and bowls of the Wasatch range. I had studied the climb up to Point Supreme, the high point on the course, on the profile many times and felt that it would not be that hard. WRONG! I was doing well up past the first two lakes, but then there was a steep pitch up Catherine Pass and to Point Supreme that really was a struggle. I thought it was at least as steep, if not steeper, than Chinscraper, and it certainly was longer. I'm sure some of that was because I wasn't mentally prepared. Finally, after watching a group of 6 or so that I had been trailing beat me off into the distance, I reached the top and the steep descent. Was this the Dive or Plunge? I couldn't remember where those were, but didn't think they could be any worse than these descents. I pounded down, doing the best I could on feet that had become blistered. (Aside: I wore road shoes for this course thinking only the last 1/3 would be rocky. Horrible mistake! My blisters on my two big toes were a direct result of not wearing trail shoes and it cost me, in my estimation, at least 1/2 hour on rocky downhills).
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Finally, I reached Ant Knolls aid station and enjoyed a pancake with grape jelly. I took off out of the aid station, only to hear someone calling my number. I turned to see what I had done wrong, but it was only the aid captain cheering me on. That guy had some energy! After coming out of there, I headed up the Grunt, of which I had heard much. Its bad reputation is much deserved. I was passed here by at least two groups of runners and pacers. I started to become downhearted, but remembered that I was here to do my own race, so I did my best to struggle up, and soon was winding down some very fun single track to the next aid station.
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As I pulled into Pole Line Pass, the day had turned hot. It was coming on 10 AM and the sun was bright on the exposed trails. I changed out of my cold weather clothes which I had worn from Brighton and was now in shorts and a shirt. I knew I would have to hydrate a ton as a runner my size goes through a lot more water than the average skinny Joe! I filled up with ice water and off I went. BTW, all of the volunteers were GREAT, but I had a first time volunteer, a nice blonde lady, helping me here who was an absolute angel. She was the nicest, most eager volunteer I have ever run across, and she had me turned around and ready to go in no time. Huge thanks whoever you were!
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With some kind words, I was off on what I considered the last section. There were two more sections, but I knew if I could push and concentrate on this section, then the last part would take care of itself as there was a lot of downhill. I told myself to keep focused as I headed out. I knew the mile marks of some of the major aid stations and landmarks, so I tried to set these in my head and pushed towards each one. My first mark was going to be Rock Springs. This is where things started to get kind of funky. About two miles out of the aid station, I saw a car pulled up in the middle of nowhere. I could clearly see the trunk and bumper. As I ran past, it was just a rock with an Aspen tree. I had heard that people sometimes had hallucinations on this course, and mine were just beginning. Immediately after I saw a mother deer and two fawns. And yes, these were actualy deer. Having been able to actually identify a real object, I continued my run.
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The section to Rock Springs was, I thought, very gentle, and I began to wonder whether or not this section of the course, known as "Irv's Torture Chamber" had been overblown. Well, screw you Irv. It would really start to suck. I got through the plunge and dive no problem, as they were very similar to the rocky downhills I had done in training back in San Diego in Mission Trails. But then came these uphills that ground me to a halt. They were steep and not short, as it appeared on the profile, but long enough to sap the wind out of you. What was worse, I seemed to be making no progress whatsoever. I looked at my watch, thinking any minute I would see my next marker. But it never came and never came. Finally, I actually sat down in frustration, figuring I needed a cold drink of water and to refocus. After a minute, I got up again and took off, thinking surely now it would be just around the corner. Nothing. I glanced a little nervously at the clock. I still had plenty of time, but I wanted as much of a buffer as I could get!
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After what seemed like forever, I passed lets buck junction (although I couldnt' find the namesake tree) and headed finally downwards towards where I knew the aid station had to be. But I couldn't see it, though I kept thinking I did. I saw trees that I thought were lampposts, bushes that I thought were trail signs with ribbons tied around, rocks that looked like picnic tables. I was really tripping and laughing at myself the whole time. The topper was when I saw a clearing with a van in it. "We made it" I yelled out loud, only to emerge from the woods to find my "van" was in fact a HUGE male moose who was standing on the trail in a very un-van like manner, clearly annoyed that he had been mistaken for a vehicle. I apologized for any slight, and he went on his way and I went on mine, still pushing for the final aid.
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FInally, and for real, the aid station! I merely had them fill my water bottle, eschewing my drop bag and everything else other than to make sure I had plenty of water as it was easily in the mid-80's. I pulled out at 2:30. Plenty of time to finish, so I relaxed as I headed out to the final 7 miles to the finish. I knew there was a climb followed by a long descent, so I braced for one final push. THere was a stream crossing the road which I gladly plunged through, cooling my feet in the water. It would cross multiple times, and each time the water felt so good on my blistered, swollen, aching feet. I dipped my hat in for some cooling as well. The climb went much longer than I thought, but finally, I saw the ribbon that indicated the downhill was about to begin! I hit the downhill and was immediately disappointed with how rocky it was. My feet at this point could barely take hitting the rocks, so I tip-toed down the hill, getting passed by 4 or 5 different groups or pacers/runners. I was disappointed, but OK, because I still felt a finish was well in hand.
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After a while, I became not so calm. I still hadn't seen any sign of the slight uphill I knew had to come. I ran into a local runner and asked him how far. "4 miles" he told me, "with two uphills." Two? Hmmm, and I only had about an hour and a half left. Still should be fine, but I tried to pick it up just in case. Luckily, it became more runnable and the uphills weren't too long. Finally, the turn through the maples. There were two groups who were behind me. I offered them a pass, but they seemed really too tired to lead, so I pushed downhill as hard as I could, making real good time, taking both of those groups in my wake. Soon we ran into a third runner complaining about losing his pacer and the poor marking of the trail, neither of which seemed warranted to me. I told him to calm down, that we had plenty of time and to grab my tail, which he did. We had quite a group of 6 bombing straight downhill as hard as we could, all nervous about just how long the trail would take to dump onto the streets. I still felt confident we had time, but tried to push anyways. Finally, I ran out of gas and let the others take the lead, and 2 minutes later we spilled out onto the pavement.
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I didn't have the strength to hold onto them, so, as my Hemingway novel had just ended, I put in some music for my half mile finish. I power walked a little, then, once I saw the finish field, broke into my best shuffle. After almost getting run over (AGAIN) crossing the street (we crossed 2 paved roads in 100 miles and I almost got hit by cars on both. What kind of moron am I?), I ran onto the field to a great round of applause from everyone and crossed the finish line approximately 35 hours and 45 minutes after I started. Whew!
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I shook hand with the race director, who I mistakenly called Charlie, then stumbled to a seat, glad to be done. I later learned that Scotty had finished about 45 minutes in front of me, as had Ray. In the end, I finished dead last, which actually I was kind of proud of. I really thought someone would come in during the 18 or so minutes that remained, but in the end, I was the donkey's butt! Ha!
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As I write this on the Thursday after the race, I am starting to feel better. I still feel a little like I have a hangover, but the blisters are starting to go down. My appetite didn't come back until Tuesday lunch, but now its back with a vengance. Fortunately, I haven't even begun to think about what race next.
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In the end, this race deserves its reputation. Its really tough, but there are some incredible views, and I never expected to see the wildlife I saw. Even though I finished last. I am really proud to have finished at all, and my heart goes out to those who made the effort and didn't make it for whatever reason. I hope that you all come back for another go at it. And big thanks to Scotty, to whom goes the glory and the blame for me being out there in the first place. I still owe him a punch to the face.
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So here I was about 9 months later, staring at the dark sillouhette of cliffs looming above me, thinking about the 100 miles that lay between me and my next beer. The day in question broke clear and cold. Well, it didn't actually break yet. It was 4:55 and I had just arrived at the start line after a short night sleep following a battle with my ipod shuffle to load just the right music. As I grabbed my pack from the car, I heard the call of "Two Minutes!" I jogged to the start line, running into my friend Scotty by pure luck just before the start. Suddenly, before I had time to get nervous (or use the bathroom), we were off! Scotty had forgotten a light, but there was a string of headlamps that strung out in the distance, so the trail was fairly well lit. Ahead of me, and behind me, the string of lights up and down the trail like Christmas lights on a tree, outlined where I had been and where I had to go. I sat in the back of the pack, content to move along at everyone else's place. Every once and a while someone would crash by, anxious to move up a few places. I didn't think that a few minutes here or there this early would make that much of a difference. Somewhere in the first few dark miles, Scotty stopped to tie a show and I lost him.
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After about 4 miles of nice single track running with a few creek crossings, the race turned up hill, with volunteers waiting to collect the water bottles distributed at the start, a bottle which I had missed out on. But I had three bottles in my pack plus an insulated water bottle in my hand, so i figured I was OK. I was wearing a vest, long sleeved shirt and short sleeved shirt, which was too hot at the beginning, but I would be grateful shortly.
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The trail up was narrow and rocky and often overgrown. It was mostly switchbacks with occasional steep stretches. As sunlight came over the crest, bringing a gray pallid light to the day, I reached a traverse running south and towards some pine trees. After the pine trees, the trail bucked up to the fabled chinscraper. In all actuality, the climb, while long, was not that steep, even at the end. The last 5 minutes at most were truly difficult, but really nothing compared to the hills that were to come. I stepped by someone who was already struggling and knew that he was going to be in trouble. I still thought I was going to be in trouble.
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I hit the top of Chinscraper right at 8, which was right on my schedule. I was surprised by the number of short but steep climbs that dotted the way from the top of Chinscraper to Francis Peak, which was visible for miles around as 2 golf ball shaped radar domes. The views back down to the west over the Salt Lake and the cities nestled along the Wasatch front were especially spectacular. I stopped at one such place to relieve myself with a view, and lo and behold Scotty went up behind me and on, not to be seen until the end of the race.
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Eventually we came up a short climb with John Grobben, the race director, at the end, waiting with a few good words and a pitcher of water to top off the bottles. Then a little more climbing, and a beautiful, runnable downhill pitch on a smooth road, the last one we would see all day. But, with about 4 beautiful downhill miles between the radar domes and the first aid station at mile 19 at Francis Peak, I suddenly got cramps in my hamstring behind my right knee. I had never had any problem there before, and I worried for a moment that I had damaged my knee somehow. So I slowed to a walk for a few minutes and made sure to eat and drink as I headed downhill. After a few minutes I tested it again, with no luck. So I walked again for another few minutes, but then I tried again, and success! As long as I kept it below a certain level, my body seemed to cooperate, so I enjoyed the long blissful downhill, leaning forward and letting gravity do the work. I pulled into Francis Peak at almost exactly 10 AM, right on my schedule.
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A quick turnaround put me out on the section to Bountiful B aid only about 5 miles away. I could not make any speed on the flats, so I resigned myself to a jog/walk combination as the 4WD road headed through Aspens and down past beaverponds into a valley, The course then turned onto a brushy trail, difficult to follow in places, and with steep pitches insterspersed with Aspen laded meadows which served as platforms to catch your breath before you launched upwards again. I passed a few people on the uphills here and finally broke out onto Skyline Drive and the aid station there.
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The road from Skyline to Sessions was rolling, but with a lot of downhill and I found myself making decent time. I found the BYU v. UW game on the radio to keep me focused as we tackled a series of short but steep ups. The Session Hills laid out before us and then the trail to Swallow Rocks, which was for the most part a beautiful traverse along the sides of the hills. I found myself passing people on the uphills and getting passed back on the flats and downs, a trend that would continue right to the end of the race.
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At Swallow Rocks, my stomach was having problems, but I was promptly rescued by turkey sandwiches cut into quarters and individually wrapped which I stuffed in my pockets as well as a grape popsicle that was quickly replaced after my first one plopped to the ground.
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The run from Swallow Rocks to Big Moutain was a good stretch for me with a lot of traverse running, a few hills, and then a big fun downhill to the aid station. You could hear the cowbells and screaming from a long ways away before you hit the switchbacks past the streamers and pink flamingos at the aid station. I almost got run over by a motorcycle crossing the street, but was then quickly directed to the weigh in where it was revealed that I had lost 8 pounds so far, and it was just 5 PM. Yikes! I sat and ate what I could, having already ingetsted those yummy turkey sandwich quarters, put on a warm vest, and headed out for Alexander Ridge.
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The Section between Big Mountain and Alexander Ridge looks mostly downhill on the profile, but there is definitely some climbing before the payoff. Like before, I found myself with a group of three people, stuck behind on single track on the way up but then losing them on the flats. I gradually became frustrated, but soon I had somehow gotten ahead of both of the runners and their pacers and was by myself. On the section between here and lamb's canyon, I passed 11 runners and did not get passed back. Knowing that I finished last, and knowing who passed me at the various other times during the race, I know that these guys didn't finish. Getting back to the run, I got to some fun downhill when YIKES I got stung by a bee in the back of the knee. I saw the bee hive was actually in the ground next to the trail and I had stepped on it. Yelping a little, I pushed on down the ridgeline, looking for the obvious path to the aid station. I never saw the aid as I ran on the south side of the basin until I was almost right on top of it. Again, a quick stop and fill up of water and out I went.
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It was starting to get dark now, but I was trying to avoid turning on my light as long as possible. I was worried about getting lost in this section, but I knew if I followed the power lines, everything would work out. Luckily, I was right. The trail here was through knee high grass and very mellow. Even when the trail turned off, the climb was minimal. However, the trail was more of a bushwack marked by ribbon here and there. It was completely dark by this time, and I wished I had been faster to reach this section in the day as it was slow going from marker to marker. Finally, Lamb's canyon aid station was seen below, but I had been told that things would twist and turn before I actually got there. I was glad I had been warned as the run, while downhill, seemed to take forever. As I got close, I ran right through a stream I hadn't seen through the overgrown trail. Cold, wet feet for the night. Ugh.
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Finally, about 9:40, I pulled into Lamb's Canyon, still feeling OK and ready for night running. Lambs was chaos to me, with lots of runners, crews, and pacers running around and about 5 or 6 different tents set up. However, as they were going to forego this station altogether only a few days earlier, I wasn't one to complain. I grabbed a cup of soup and a grilled cheese. I also changed into dry socks, if not dry shoes, and warm clothes for the night. After a slower stop than I would have liked, I was out the station on the paved road up to Mill Creek. I chatted on the cell with a few people as I planned, as the road was smooth and the Utah-UNLV game which had held my attention was over. I powerwalked the trail and turned off my light, enjoying the stars. The course then left the paved road up Lamb's Canyon and up over the Elbow Fork trail.
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This part of the course was much more difficult than expected. Not only was it brushy and steep, but it also was slippery as the temperature cooled and moisture coated the trail. After a difficult uphill stretch, finally the trail made a downward turn, but it was difficult to run given the steepness and loose rocks. I reached the bottom about the same time as two other groups, and I put myself directly behind them walking up the road to Mill Creek, just trying to hold onto their shadows. I turned off my light again, only turning it on to show upcoming cars where I was. Unfortunately, I found this section to be fairly boring as there was nothing on the radio and I was realizing that I still had a long way to go. Finally, Mill Creek was in sight. After another slow stop, I was off on my way to Desolation Lake.
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I really enjoyed this section, having scouted it and run it two days before in daylight. The inclines were very gentle and the trail wide and smooth. I powered up the trail. Soon, I was caught from behind by Ray. Ray lived in Seattle, as had I, so we had much in common. He also knew Scotty and was pleased to hear Scotty was somewhere ahead of us. Ray also was the drum major for the Stanford Band that went out onto the field against Cal for that famous play. You never know who you are going to meet at these things. Ray was staying with me on the climbs, but I felt I would lose him as soon as we hit any significant downhill.
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We heard some crashing off to our left as we went up towards dog lake. I shone my light off the trail and saw a black bear walking through the woods. Not worried, but not knowing if Ray would worry and not thinking Ray had seen what I had seen, I made some joke about some runner going to the bathroom in the woods. Ray said, "Maybe its a bear." Yeah, Ray, maybe . . .
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As we hit some downhill, I was back on my own again with a slog up to Desolation Lake ahead of me. I was managing to keep down fruit snacks as I tried to find anything on the radio. Finally, giving up, I pulled out my Ipod and started listening to old Art Bell broadcasts. I pulled into Desolation lake being careful to sit way away from the comfortable looking fire. Then it was a power trip up red lovers ridge to Scott's Peak. This section was much easier than I had thought it would be, although I had a little navigation problem finding the exact way up to the very top. That was followed by some ridgeline running where I caught up to Ray again, which surprised me. He said he needed some energy, so I offered him some gels which he took and then powered into the darkness.
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I knew it was starting to get light as I ran along the ridge from Scotts Peak, and also knew I wanted to be at the Brighton aid station about 6:30, keeping plenty of buffer over any time cut offs so I wouldn't have to worry about being timed out. Knowing this, I tried to motor from Scott's to Brighton, and again passed a few people on the way down who I would not see again, meaning they eventually dropped at some point. Surprisingly, I caught Ray about a mile from the aid station and we shared stories until we got close to the station. It was the last I would see of him as he would finish at least a half hour in front of me.
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Brighton was a little warm ski lodge. I weighed in and was still about 10 pounds down, so I was OK. They had lots of stuff there, but scrambled eggs sounded GOOD, so I slurped down 2 plates full as I reloaded for another day out there. God, could I really have 10 hours of running still to go? It seemed impossible, and I tried not to think about it. I had a sour stomach and was tired, but still felt relatively good and confident I could finish. I pulled out of Brighton a little after 7, a little later than I would have liked, but still with plenty of buffer I felt. I put on my audio novel for the day: Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms. There's something about ultra running and Hemingway that mesh well to me. My last and only other 100 I had enjoyed To Have and Have Not, so I figured I had to have some kind of tradition.
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By now the sun was just beginning to light the peaks and bowls of the Wasatch range. I had studied the climb up to Point Supreme, the high point on the course, on the profile many times and felt that it would not be that hard. WRONG! I was doing well up past the first two lakes, but then there was a steep pitch up Catherine Pass and to Point Supreme that really was a struggle. I thought it was at least as steep, if not steeper, than Chinscraper, and it certainly was longer. I'm sure some of that was because I wasn't mentally prepared. Finally, after watching a group of 6 or so that I had been trailing beat me off into the distance, I reached the top and the steep descent. Was this the Dive or Plunge? I couldn't remember where those were, but didn't think they could be any worse than these descents. I pounded down, doing the best I could on feet that had become blistered. (Aside: I wore road shoes for this course thinking only the last 1/3 would be rocky. Horrible mistake! My blisters on my two big toes were a direct result of not wearing trail shoes and it cost me, in my estimation, at least 1/2 hour on rocky downhills).
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Finally, I reached Ant Knolls aid station and enjoyed a pancake with grape jelly. I took off out of the aid station, only to hear someone calling my number. I turned to see what I had done wrong, but it was only the aid captain cheering me on. That guy had some energy! After coming out of there, I headed up the Grunt, of which I had heard much. Its bad reputation is much deserved. I was passed here by at least two groups of runners and pacers. I started to become downhearted, but remembered that I was here to do my own race, so I did my best to struggle up, and soon was winding down some very fun single track to the next aid station.
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As I pulled into Pole Line Pass, the day had turned hot. It was coming on 10 AM and the sun was bright on the exposed trails. I changed out of my cold weather clothes which I had worn from Brighton and was now in shorts and a shirt. I knew I would have to hydrate a ton as a runner my size goes through a lot more water than the average skinny Joe! I filled up with ice water and off I went. BTW, all of the volunteers were GREAT, but I had a first time volunteer, a nice blonde lady, helping me here who was an absolute angel. She was the nicest, most eager volunteer I have ever run across, and she had me turned around and ready to go in no time. Huge thanks whoever you were!
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With some kind words, I was off on what I considered the last section. There were two more sections, but I knew if I could push and concentrate on this section, then the last part would take care of itself as there was a lot of downhill. I told myself to keep focused as I headed out. I knew the mile marks of some of the major aid stations and landmarks, so I tried to set these in my head and pushed towards each one. My first mark was going to be Rock Springs. This is where things started to get kind of funky. About two miles out of the aid station, I saw a car pulled up in the middle of nowhere. I could clearly see the trunk and bumper. As I ran past, it was just a rock with an Aspen tree. I had heard that people sometimes had hallucinations on this course, and mine were just beginning. Immediately after I saw a mother deer and two fawns. And yes, these were actualy deer. Having been able to actually identify a real object, I continued my run.
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The section to Rock Springs was, I thought, very gentle, and I began to wonder whether or not this section of the course, known as "Irv's Torture Chamber" had been overblown. Well, screw you Irv. It would really start to suck. I got through the plunge and dive no problem, as they were very similar to the rocky downhills I had done in training back in San Diego in Mission Trails. But then came these uphills that ground me to a halt. They were steep and not short, as it appeared on the profile, but long enough to sap the wind out of you. What was worse, I seemed to be making no progress whatsoever. I looked at my watch, thinking any minute I would see my next marker. But it never came and never came. Finally, I actually sat down in frustration, figuring I needed a cold drink of water and to refocus. After a minute, I got up again and took off, thinking surely now it would be just around the corner. Nothing. I glanced a little nervously at the clock. I still had plenty of time, but I wanted as much of a buffer as I could get!
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After what seemed like forever, I passed lets buck junction (although I couldnt' find the namesake tree) and headed finally downwards towards where I knew the aid station had to be. But I couldn't see it, though I kept thinking I did. I saw trees that I thought were lampposts, bushes that I thought were trail signs with ribbons tied around, rocks that looked like picnic tables. I was really tripping and laughing at myself the whole time. The topper was when I saw a clearing with a van in it. "We made it" I yelled out loud, only to emerge from the woods to find my "van" was in fact a HUGE male moose who was standing on the trail in a very un-van like manner, clearly annoyed that he had been mistaken for a vehicle. I apologized for any slight, and he went on his way and I went on mine, still pushing for the final aid.
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FInally, and for real, the aid station! I merely had them fill my water bottle, eschewing my drop bag and everything else other than to make sure I had plenty of water as it was easily in the mid-80's. I pulled out at 2:30. Plenty of time to finish, so I relaxed as I headed out to the final 7 miles to the finish. I knew there was a climb followed by a long descent, so I braced for one final push. THere was a stream crossing the road which I gladly plunged through, cooling my feet in the water. It would cross multiple times, and each time the water felt so good on my blistered, swollen, aching feet. I dipped my hat in for some cooling as well. The climb went much longer than I thought, but finally, I saw the ribbon that indicated the downhill was about to begin! I hit the downhill and was immediately disappointed with how rocky it was. My feet at this point could barely take hitting the rocks, so I tip-toed down the hill, getting passed by 4 or 5 different groups or pacers/runners. I was disappointed, but OK, because I still felt a finish was well in hand.
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After a while, I became not so calm. I still hadn't seen any sign of the slight uphill I knew had to come. I ran into a local runner and asked him how far. "4 miles" he told me, "with two uphills." Two? Hmmm, and I only had about an hour and a half left. Still should be fine, but I tried to pick it up just in case. Luckily, it became more runnable and the uphills weren't too long. Finally, the turn through the maples. There were two groups who were behind me. I offered them a pass, but they seemed really too tired to lead, so I pushed downhill as hard as I could, making real good time, taking both of those groups in my wake. Soon we ran into a third runner complaining about losing his pacer and the poor marking of the trail, neither of which seemed warranted to me. I told him to calm down, that we had plenty of time and to grab my tail, which he did. We had quite a group of 6 bombing straight downhill as hard as we could, all nervous about just how long the trail would take to dump onto the streets. I still felt confident we had time, but tried to push anyways. Finally, I ran out of gas and let the others take the lead, and 2 minutes later we spilled out onto the pavement.
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I didn't have the strength to hold onto them, so, as my Hemingway novel had just ended, I put in some music for my half mile finish. I power walked a little, then, once I saw the finish field, broke into my best shuffle. After almost getting run over (AGAIN) crossing the street (we crossed 2 paved roads in 100 miles and I almost got hit by cars on both. What kind of moron am I?), I ran onto the field to a great round of applause from everyone and crossed the finish line approximately 35 hours and 45 minutes after I started. Whew!
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I shook hand with the race director, who I mistakenly called Charlie, then stumbled to a seat, glad to be done. I later learned that Scotty had finished about 45 minutes in front of me, as had Ray. In the end, I finished dead last, which actually I was kind of proud of. I really thought someone would come in during the 18 or so minutes that remained, but in the end, I was the donkey's butt! Ha!
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As I write this on the Thursday after the race, I am starting to feel better. I still feel a little like I have a hangover, but the blisters are starting to go down. My appetite didn't come back until Tuesday lunch, but now its back with a vengance. Fortunately, I haven't even begun to think about what race next.
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In the end, this race deserves its reputation. Its really tough, but there are some incredible views, and I never expected to see the wildlife I saw. Even though I finished last. I am really proud to have finished at all, and my heart goes out to those who made the effort and didn't make it for whatever reason. I hope that you all come back for another go at it. And big thanks to Scotty, to whom goes the glory and the blame for me being out there in the first place. I still owe him a punch to the face.
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