Zane Grey 50 Mile

If I could do one race over again, this would be the one. Even if I could just have mile 34 and 35 back, the outcome would have been much different. Much better. For whatever reason, on this day, I was meant to run and I felt it early on in the race. I felt strong; had a spring in my step; a feather in my cap; a whistle on my lips. And then it all fell apart shortly after the mile 33 aid station. And not just fall apart as in a wheel coming off. No, I'm talkin the kind of super-blow-chunks-til-all-energy-is-gone-dead-man-walking-in-a-daze-waiting-for-the-roof-to-cave-in-huddled-in-the-fetal-position-waiting-for-Mr. Grim-to-show-up-and-begin-his-reaping sort of fall apart. Pure misery for the 9 miles before reaching the last aid station at mile 44 and another hour spent there lost in a stupor with my stomach tied in a knot. But then, I came to, made a quick systems assessment, and crawled out of my pain cave to run the final 6-7 miles to the finish. Why did this happen? Well...

Thursday, April 23rd, 2:30pm

Jen and I blasted out of Teton Valley in the Plastic Planetoid heading south as fast as four tiny cylinders would take us. We made it as far as the Coral Pink Sand Dunes just north of Kanab, UT where we pulled over about a mile off Hwy 89 and slept for the night under the big sparkly southern Utah desert sky.

Friday, April 24th, 5:00am

The coyotes started their morning yipping. We got up around 7:00 or 7:30, had a cooler breakfast of cereal, fruit, and yogurt, and carried on our southerly way. We pulled into Payson, AZ around 2:00pm and met Trevor who was napping in the parking lot where we were to pick up our race packets. We found our pre-race pizza fix at the Pizza Factory, got our race packets, and found a campsite at the Houston Mesa Campground just north of town. Asleep under the stars by 8:00pm.

Saturday, April 25th, 3:00am

Up and dressed and a quick bowl of Grape Nuts with blueberries and a 20oz Fierce Grape Gatorade. We pulled out of the campground at 3:30 and arrived at the Pine TH (the race start) around 3:50. I crawled into my sleeping bag in the front seat of the car and dozed off for 20 minutes or so until it was time for the final prep: Drop bags dropped off, water bottles filled, race food loaded into my shorts, race clothing decided upon, Bodyglide applied, shoes double-knotted, and over to the race start with 5 minutes to go. A quick hello to Olga and we were off into the dark morning woods.

I hate bottlenecks in the early parts of these trail races. Thankfully, Trevor and I cruised and shuffled our way through and around just a few runner-globules until we reached some breathing room. And then, there he was... Mr. Stoy. Damien has become a good racing friend of mine over the past 9 months or so. He used to live in Jackson, WY before moving to Estes Park, CO, and then Sedona, AZ last fall. He's moving to northern CA this week, but I see him often at these trail races (Big Horn, Grand Teton, Moab Red Hot, Zane Grey...etc) and we inevitably end up running at least some parts of the race together. Great guy. And I always enjoy the company. We caught up on life over the first few miles and soon we arrived at the first aid station at the 8 mile mark.

We had been running in a long train of about 8 runners. I was running completely comfortably just about in the middle of the pack chatting away while watching the sunrise over the desert hills. To be understated, it was beautiful. It's been a long long time since I've been on a trail that breathtaking and that enjoyable to run. We were cruisin. And numerous times, I remember thinking, 'This is what it's all about right here.' Pure, utter bliss. It couldn't get any better than this. I was in a perfectly perfect state. But then I began running up on the heels of the runner in front of me. And he was running up on the heels of the runner in front of him. Aid station in less than a mile. Better make a move now and lead the train into the station so I won't have to wait for water.

8 miles. 1 hour, 30 minutes. Jen was there at the aid station. I topped off my bottles from a guy wearing the bright red hoodie from last year's Leadville 100. He had his name and finishing time ironed onto his left sleeve: Brent somebody: 23:38:23. Or something like that. He's the guy who finished just in front of me in that race. I ditched the headlamp (waistlamp) and arm warmers and floated off back into the woods up the trail. The next 9 miles were more blssful running. Happy cruising. Pleasant bounding. We ended up with a group of 4 to 6 coming into the aid station at mile 17. Damien was in the group. Trevor was there. And a few other guys we'd been running with for the past however many miles. I had decided to forgo my more typical mix of Perpetuem, CarboPro, and Powerbar Endurance, in favor of good 'ol pure water and my food plan was to take one GU and one Powergel every hour combined with one LARA Bar every 3 hours somewhere during those stretches and then top off my liquids by downing a 20oz Gatorade about every three hours or so at mile 17 and 33. The water is easier for me to drink than the mixes when it's warm. The GUs have a good mix of carbs. The Powergels have 200mg of sodium per gel (4x the amount in the GU) to be sure I was getting my electrolytes. The LARA Bars were easy to chew, tasted good, and were my natural food of choice. It all seemed to be working very well.

The next stretch of 9 miles consisted of more blissful running. Sweet trail. I was feeling like one of the natives of the land from 10,000 years ago. Something a bit primal in me was stirring. Our train continued our speedy pace through the forest.

17 miles. 3 hours, 10 minutes. Feelin goooooooood. Got the bottles refilled. Took a couple orange slices. Drank a 20 oz Gatorade to ensure my liquids were topped off. I was only carrying two handheld bottles and with the dry Arizona heat (which I was prepared for, but had yet to encounter this morning) and somewhat long stretches between aid stations, I didn't want dehydration to be an issue. Drinking this much at the aid station would allow me more distance before I would need to begin drinking from the 40oz I was carrying and thus increase my fuel mileage. 20 oz was alot to take in all at once, but it was a method I had used in my last two 100s last summer and it seemed to work well. I just had to take it easy out of the aid stations due to belly fullness.

The next stretch was where the race began. Some of the more rugged, remote, unkept trail (if there even was one) I've ever been on in a race. At times, the "trail" consisted of yellow ribbon tied in a winding manner to scrubby juniper trees up a 500-1,000 ft slope covered in briars and dry prickly desert flora. By the top, the left side of my shorts had been ripped open, I took a thorny whiplike branch of some kind dangerously across the front of my lower pelvic region, and my arms and legs were cut, scraped, scratched, lashed, and bleeding. It was gnarly. Unlike any other trail race I've ever done. It wasn't a trail. It was a route. An adventure. We all had to pay close attention to the trail ribbons so we wouldn't lose our route.

At mile 23ish, there was a makeshift aid station. I wasn't sure if there would be anything between the aid stations at mile 17 and mile 33, but I was glad there was. Trevor and I were together. Damien and a few of the other guys were up ahead. We were catching back up to them. Between mile 23ish and mile 33, our group joined forces again and we rolled into mile 33 in our group of 5.

Mile 33. 6 hours, 45 minutes. I continued to feel great. I mean, I felt like I'd been running, but I wasn't at all exhausted. No pain. Anywhere. Feet, ankles, calves, knees, quads, hips... everything was a go. I remember how pleased I was feeling about how the race was going. My previous couple of races hadn't gone quite as well as I'd hoped due to my continuing chronic patella tendonitis in both knees and then just lack of proper training or nutrition. I think I was mostly surprised here because I really hadn't been putting in alot of miles over the past 2 1/2 months and I wasn't sure if I'd actually lost some fitness during that period. I'd decided to take that time off to let my body regenerate a bit and hopefully repair itself, especially my knees. I guess the rest was what my body needed! I was continuing to feel good.

Damien left the aid station and Trevor and I followed a couple minutes behind. I had taken another 20oz Gatorade and some more orange slices and could definitely feel my full belly.

Looking back, I should have just slowed to walk the hills over the next couple of miles. But I was feeling so great! Why walk when you can run?! My legs felt great. My lungs felt great. The only issue, a minor one, was all the liquid in my stomach, but that would pass as it was absorbed into my system. Or so I thought.

I felt good shortly after leaving the aid station where the trail piched upward and about 15-30 minutes after leaving mile 33, I caught and passed Damien and began yo-yoing with another runner. An older guy who was haulin up the trail. My stomach felt a bit tight. Hmmmmmmmm... Then it felt even tighter. Oh boy, this doesn't feel good. Maybe I should eat something, I thought. So I ate a lemon LARA Bar. Ooooooo now I really don't feel good. We had begun the day's biggest climb (unbeknownst to me) and as we continued upward, I felt worse... and worse............... and worse.......................... until I finally reached the top. Damien had caught back up to me during this stretch and continued past. Then Trevor caught back up. We walked for a bit. I really felt like I needed to puke. And then I did. Everything out. All of it. It took about a minute. And then I felt better. "Feel like running?" I asked Trevor. "Sure." So we were off and running again But now things had changed. I had no fuel in me after leaving it all on the trail back there. And my stomach wasn't too keen on the idea of taking anything in either. Ugh... The next 5-6 miles took us about 2 hours. We were getting caught and passed by all kinds of folks. And I was feeling worse and worse as time went on. The stretch between mile 40 and 44 was one of the worst trail experiences I've ever had. I felt weak. Foggy. Nauseated. Practically dead.

When we finally arrived at mile 44 aid station, I curled up on the ground and told Trevor to continue on without me. I was in no condition to move anywhere. Jen made me some Recoverite. I was hurtin. A medical guy came over to check me out. "I suggest you don't continue", he said. I didn't feel like continuing anyway. Jen pulled the car up closer and I walked over and got inside and took a 30 minute nap. I was wasted. And then, I woke up. Felt better. Muscles felt good. Stomach felt good. Head felt good. So I got out of the car, packed a couple gels. refilled my bottles, said thank you to everyone there who had helped me, and trotted off down the trail. I had spent about an hour there.

The last 6-7 miles were pretty uneventful. I caught and passed a few runners along this stretch most of whom were wondering where I came from. I felt like I'd crawled out of the grave. That's what I told them. And then, there was the finish. 12 hours and 22 minutes after we'd began. Trevor finished about an hour ahead of me (the hour I spent at the aid station). Damien was a half hour in front of him. I shoulda been up there with those guys. Grrrrrrrrrr! They both had a really good race and finished quite well on an exceptionally tough course. Many of the runners were stating that this 50 miler made them feel like they'd run 100.

Here are the results