Monthly Update

Whew! Finally getting back to put up a post for everything I've been doing this past month.

And whatever happened at the Bighorn 100?

I will tell you. As succinctly as I possibly can...

Let's start with Bighorn:

I made the drive over to Sheridan, WY in the Plastic Porsche with Mike and Melissa (Mike's pacer) and we spent Thursday afternoon picking up race packets, prepping, then dropping off our drop bags, having an all-you-can-eat pre-race pizza and pasta dinner, then rolling over to our campsite ten miles away near the race start in Dayton, WY.


Friday morning, we got up, got ready, and liesurely began preparing for our journey that was scheduled to begin promptly at 11am. Trevor drove out from Portland to run the race with Mike and I and the 117 other wonderful wildpeople out there with us.

In short, the race went ok. Not what I had hoped. For some reason, after having two months of runners high, I felt slightly off and a little lethargic out there. Maybe I simply wasn't able to maintain my two month "peak" all the way through to this race. Whatever the reason, I just kept going anyway, never having a really bad spot necessarily, but just plugging away at those miles. Especially through the night and into the early parts of the morning. My body began rejecting any fluids I drank (though the normal evacuation process, no puking) and my legs felt heavy and I couldn't run without my heart rate and breathing skyrocketing. But, you know, this wasn't necessarily "bad". It was just slow. Slower than I thought I was capable of anyway.

I hit 50 miles in about 12 hours. The next 16 miles took me from 11pm to 4am at which point I stopped at the Footbridge Aid Station, sat down in a chair and was tended to by the most awesome group of volunteers I have ever experienced. These guys were the absolute best. They brought me cup after cup of hot soup. A bowl of boiled and cubed potatoes. Watermelon. Some chips. And when I began to feel cold a few minutes after sitting there, they pulled a huge sleeping bag out. One guy gave me the jacket off his back. I was feeling kinda drowsy by then so I slid off the chair onto the ground and propped my back up against a rock. Another guy brought over another sleeping bag to cushion my back. Is this racing?!?! Seriously?!?! Should I really be sleeping here like this in the middle of a race gatting waited upon and tended to my every need?!?! Well, whatever, it happened and I gotta give a bunch of kudos to that crew at the Footbridge. You guys were awesome! (Maybe I like "luxury" too much)

I spent 15 minutes eating, 30 minutes dozing, and was back up and moving up the 2,000+ ft climb out of the canyon at 4:45am. It was getting light. I was still feeling sluggish and continued to feel that way until about 9:30am when I reached the Cow Camp Aid Station at mile 76.5. And that meant one thing. Bacon!

These guys know how to do breakfast for ultrarunners. Lots and lots of delicious, salty, crispy, greasy, dripping bacon. Pulled off a plate and handed to me directly in the dirt-covered hands of one of the aid station volunteers. It was perfect. All these volunteers were simply amazing. I love this race just because of that. THE best aid station crews you'll ever find. I ate eight strips of bacon, two cups of oatmeal a couple orange slices and a couple pieces of watermelon and I was off again. In an hour and a half, I was up at Dry Fork with 17.5 miles to go. It was 11:25 when I left that aid station. So much for running a sub-24, but all of a sudden I was off and running again. And I'm talkin full on running. Not the ultra-shuffle, but the legitimate ultra-run! My guess is the bacon must have kicked in. I ran the final 17.5 miles to the finish in 2hrs, 24 min, an average pace of approximately 8:14, and my fastest segment of the entire race. Go figure. I had to go 83 miles before finally feeling good! (does 83 miles count as a warm up?) I needed a finishing goal to help make me feel like I had a good race so I began maintaining my running pace and, with the goal of finishing in under 27 hours, I was able to catch back up to a couple guys who had passed me hours and hours and hours before (including one within a mile of the finish) and that helped make my finishing kick worth it. (Although I'm convinced that if the race had been 125 miles, I would have placed even higher)

I finished in 26 hrs, 49 min in 15th place overall. And Trevor and Mike finshed as well after battling their own difficulties out there. Our group had a 100% finishing rate! And judging by how we were walking the next morning, I'd say we were even more succesful. Feet were in relatively good condition. So were joints and muscles. A bit sore, yes, but we were all moving around pretty dang well considering the 100 miles we put in the day before!

I took the next week off following the race, and for whatever reason was recovered enough to want to head out into the mountains for a long run the following Saturday, so I shot off a text to my local running homies to see who was interested and sure enough, got a "yes" response from Melissa. She's always up for adventure. And oh what an adventure it was. 7 hours on foot. 23 miles covered. Two, huge 3,000ft climbs. Sweet glissading down vast snowfields. Route-finding through an avalanche debris-filled, overgrown, unmaintained canyon that I don't think has seen human footprints in over ten years. Beautiful alpine lakes. Waterfalls. Views all the way to the Tetons and beyond from the high point at 9,500 ft.

And not a single picture because I forgot my camera. @&$%^#*&$#^@!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So then the next day, I went out on a two hour mountain bike ride with a couple friends to recover. We rode the Mill Creek Trail from Teton Canyon up to Grand Targhee and then turned around to enjoy all that the blissful descent had to offer. Ahhhhhhhhh, wheels are gooooooooood!

The next weekend (of the 4th of July) I went out with a couple other running buds on another good 20+ mile loop in the Teton Pass area: Start at Mike Harris TH, climb up to Mount Oliver, down to Mail Cabin TH, cross the highway, go up Coal Creek, over Mesquite Pass into Moose Creek Meadows, and down Moose Creek back to Mike Harris across the highway.

Ready, Set... Go!

Next Up: Big Horn 100

Much time has passed since my inaugural 100 mile run a year ago. Much change in the world. Much knowledge gathered. Much fitness gained. Time for anutha hunda. And now I actually feel prepared.

100 milers aren't like 10k's in that if you have a bad race, you can't just give yourself a week or two off and come right back out and have at it again. There's simply too much time, money, and energy invested in an event like this to hack your way through it just to be miserable, risk getting injured and maybe even not finish. If you're gonna do one, and do one right, you need to make sure everything is ready. Races like this typically require months of preparation time and months of recovery time. And because of the length of time required just to finish one, there's a constant long drawn-out mental/physical battle being waged between pace, fluids, food, clothing, physiology, weather, trail surface...etc. It's just as mentally exhausting as it is physically. When I'm out there on the trail, my body is the machine and my brain is the computer analyzing every micrometer of every system, performing a constant sequence of calculations and system checks to ensure everything in and on the machine is operating properly. It is usually what I think about when I'm out there running. Sound boring? Tedious? Monotonous? Maybe so, but it's what I do and I love it. And when my mind is ready to run and my body isn't, I force it to keep running anyway so long as it doesn't break. On the other hand, when my body is ready to run and my mind isn't, as most runners would probably agree, it's usually pretty easy to get myself going. When my body is willing and able to run, I only hope my mind will follow suit.

After a year's experience completing two 100 milers, a handful of 50's, and dozens of runs and races in the 50k range, and after much experimenting with a variety of nutritional substances (all legal!) I've finally honed in on what works and what doesn't. And now I will finally get the chance to put it all to the ultimate test. This is what I've been waiting for. I've been eagerly anticipating this race since last fall, but only a month ago did I realize that I was finally ready. I think it's funny to look back at who I was three years ago when I first began this ultra-running journey and see myself as a young, naive, beginner. Even though I have been running off and on since I was a 5 year old playing soccer and later a teenager running track and then an adult finishing a couple of painful road marathons in my early 20's, I simply didn't know what it took to run ultra-distances properly.

I didn't train right. (I have always had a problem with over-training).

I didn't eat right. (Has anyone else ever ran 50 miles consuming an entire package of Pepperidge Farms Oatmeal-Raisin cookies along the way? Or, even better, headed out on an unsupported, high-altitude, 40 mile mountain run carrying 110 oz of Gatorade and two Powerbars? And no water treatment. Come to think of it, I didn't even have a jacket of any kind with me.)

I didn't drink right. (200 oz of Gatorade over 50 miles is ok, isn't it? Let's see, that's approximately 350 grams of sugar. That's 3/4 lb.)

And then, more than any other factors, I just had no interest in changing anything. I don't know why. I just wanted to continue to hack away out there and then wonder what I could have done differently without really wanting to do anything differently. Or maybe I didn't feel capable of it. I don't know. There are parts of me from years past that I don't even recognize now. I'm 31 years old. And I'm only looking back three or four years. At this rate, I can't even try to imagine what my life will look like when I'm 35. But that's a whole other story that I'm going to politely avoid right now.


Point is, I finally feel ready.


This year's Big Horn 100 course returns to it's original route after last year's reroute due to the heavy lingering winter snowpack that was still present around 9,000ft near the customary turnaround point at 50 miles. Apparently, some snow is typical and this year, according to the website, there will be some along that stretch. But I'm happy that we get to do the original course this year. If anything, just to run up the Little Bighorn River Canyon in daylight after running only the lower seven miles of it last year completely in the dark because of last year's rerouted course. This section of trail has been touted as the most "wild and scenic" stretch along the entire 50 mile length. Unfortunately, because of the 11am start on Friday, I will probably only get to see it once on my way out to the turnaround. I expect to reach the turnaround somewhere near 10 hours which would make it 9pm and just getting dark enough to need lights. But ya know? I really don't care. I'm going to enjoy as much as I can anyway.

CAUSE I'M READY TO GET MY RUN ON!

Pocatello 50

A few days have passed and I'm still reliving Saturday's beautiful run. There couldn't have possibly been a better day for a run and combined with some of the most scenic and enjoyable trails I've been on, it all added up to one thing: perfect.

I left Victor Friday night and stayed at my buddy Mike's place in Blackfoot, ID about 20 miles north of Pocatello. He would be running the 50 miler as well and this way, I would only have about a 40 minute drive in the morning to get to the start from his place instead of a 2hr, 15 min drive from my place in Victor. We got up around 4:15am, ate some oatmeal with blueberries, left the house at 4:45 and arrived at the start at the Mink Creek Group Camp Area at 5:30, a half hour before the start. A quick race prep and drop bags dropped off in what I thought was the appropriate areas (my first drop bag would not make it to me at the first aid station and I guess I should have taken more care in making sure I set it in the right spot before the start of the race, but a race volunteer told me where to put them and that's what I did, but I seemed to understand what she was saying backwards and instead of drop bags arranged in piles for Aid Stations 1-2-3, they were arranged in piles for Aid Stations 3-2-1) and right on time at 6:00am, we were off and running.

The first mile we headed down canyon on the paved Mink Creek Canyon Rd before veering left (north) up a singletrack climb that took about 20 minutes. The early morning temperature was perfect. Maybe 50 degrees? And the sun was rising, but struggling to penetrate the thin layer of clouds spread out to the east. At the top of the ridge, we began traversing an east-facing slope through open hillsides of sage and scrubby vegetation, rolling along over the contours of the wavy terrain and dropping frequently into groves of aspens and other small alpine trees with the early morning sunlight filtering through before popping back out into the open again. We were running the Gibson Jack Trail and I must say, it was one of the most pleasurable trail experiences I've ever had. And I had Mark to keep me company.

Mark and I introduced ourselves on the first climb 2-3 miles into the race and proceeded to run together all the way to the first aid station at mile 8. Talking the entire way. Mark was a storyteller and an entertaining one at that. He had a think southern accent which only made the stories that much more entertaining. Thanks Mark, for passing the time! It was a pleasure to be out there sharing the morning trail with you.

We cruised into the 8 mile aid station around 1:20, I think, and I refilled on water and was quickly off up the trail a nice, runnable uphill stretch. Mark took off up ahead, but Chris from Jackson soon caught up to me and suddenly I had another pal to chat with. Chris and I caught up on things a bit. I had seen him at the Moab Red Hot 50k back in February and then the Buffalo Run in SLC in March and I hadn't seen him since so we talked about our spring adventures and then, there it was: The brute of a climb completely off trail up a steep, rocky, vegetated southern slope for 1,000+ ft. It felt good to give me legs a break from the almost non-stop running shuffle I had been applying for the first 10 miles, but hot diggity this thing was steep! And rough! But fun and adventurous!

Chris and I had passed Mark on the way up and when we reached the top, he quickly zoomed away down the double-track descent. I had no hurry to beat up my legs this early on in the race. Mark caught back up to me and passed me just before coming into the first major aid station at the City Creek TH at mile 15.6 which I arrived at after 2 hrs, 56 minutes. My drop bag hadn't made it there and I briefly pictured it sitting at the other aid station wondering where it was and why I had sent it off in another direction other than what I had planned. I remember it seemed sad to me. Back to reality, I filled up with water, drank a yummy cup of Nuun, grabbed 5 Hammer Gels from the aid station table and headed back out onto the next stretch.

This stretch began up a gentle gravel road for a mile or so before turning into the trees and switching onto the City Creek trail which, as its namesake suggests, follows right next to City Creek. And I mean RIGHT next to it. There were places where there was the trail two feet wide and the next foot over was creek. And it was b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l! If the first stretch along the Gibson Jack Trail was near perfect, then maybe this stretch WAS perfect. If only I had more pep. Chris was somewhere ahead of me. So was Mark. Krissy had passed me along this stretch. This would turn out to be one of my low spots of the day. Not horrible. Just dragging a bit. I realized I hadn't peed in a while. Uh-oh. Drink drink drink. Keep drinking. Don't get into a deficit. Drink til you pee. The climb began to get steep. Then steeper. Then we began to hit patchy snow. And then, the trail ended and we were face to face with a narrow, 45 degree, rocky, muddy chute filled with giant patches of melting snow with creeklike runoff pouring down it. Que es esto?!?! This is a true adventure! This is gnarly! I like it!

I soon spotted Mark up above me in the chute and caught up to him and passed him. He was breathing awfully hard and said the altitude was getting to him. Up on the ridge, we were at roughly 7,000ft. At the top of the ridge, I spotted Chris and Krissy. Good, they weren't too far ahead. A couple minutes maybe. Get to the top, then cruise up and latch onto them on the long downhill stretch back to Mink Creek. The downhill was fun. Rolling doubletrack. I focused on having both my bottles finished off by the time I hit the aid station at mile 25. I timed it perfectly and Chris was there as I shwooshed in, filled my bottles, nabbed 3 orange slices and took off again. He left with me, but said he had puked at the top of the last climb and wasn't feeling too chipper. Yikes. I told him I had just experienced that a month ago at Zane Grey, but was able to bounce back and finish feeling good. I told him to keep drinking and keep going and he'll get to feeling better again and we separated again. I caught up to another guy who said he wasn't feeling to good either. Yuk. I hate that feeling. My goal was to finish off my two bottles by the time I reached the next aid station. By my calculations, it would take me about an hour.

The next 6 miles were more blissful trail winding gently downhill through the trees back into Mink Creek. I hit the Mink Creek aid station at mile 33 in exactly 6 hours with two empty bottles. I refilled the bottles with water, grabbed my drop bag which I was REALLY glad to see, slotted my next group of gels into my pockets, easily downed a 20 oz Gatorade (which I was extremely watchful of as it entered my stomach. I didn't want a repeat of that full-belly feeling like I had a t Zane Grey and the full scale vomiting that ensued), rubbed off my face, arms, and legs with a wet towel (which felt SO refreshing, let me tell you!), lathered on some sunscreen, and I was off again. Still feeling good. It was getting hot now and I knew this next stretch was completely without shade.

I had ran this next loop a week before the race and I'm glad I did. The lower part was very runnable if one had conserved energy. The upper part would be steeper, muddier, and then turn to snowpack so I didn't expect hardly anyone to be running that part. My plan was to maintain pace and run the first 25 minutes up the dirt road until it got steep and would become unrunnable to just about everyone. I wanted to catch someone. Maybe I could make up a little time by running this lower stretch while some of the others walked. The hunt was on.

I got passed by 3 or 4 relay runners on the early part of that climb, but I was still running and felt exactly how I wanted to feel. Tired, but not exhausted. The climb went up. And up. And up. And then finally I reached the next aid station below the western slopes of Scout Mountain where I would be headed next. I wasn't feeling to hot at this point and I'm really not sure why. I'd been drinking a ton. Around 40oz per hour. But now I just didn't feel up to running. My legs were beginning to slow. 'Sigh.......' I took a nature break, tried to regroup, and forced myself to keep running for as long as possible until I reached the unrunnable snow and then I could walk as much as I wanted because I knew pretty much everyone would be doing the same.

The route up to the summit of Scout Mountain was a circuitous one as we continued our gradual climb heading south far below its summit to the east before wrapping around its southern flank to reach a saddle between Scout and its neighboring peak further to the south. We then curved north up a gravel road half covered in snow looking north along Scout's eastern slopes. Before getting too far north, we curved west again, crossed back over to Scout's west side, and began up a series of short switchbacks before finally setting off north again along the western slope towards the summit a mile or two away.

I finally saw the carrots I was looking for. One single runner up ahead by maybe 10-12 minutes and two other runners within 7-8 minutes. Giddyup! That boosted my energy and I picked up the pace knowing this was the last stretch of the last big climb of the day to make up some time before tha loooooooooooooooong descent back to Mink Creek. We still had 10 miles to go. Easy does it.

The glissade down the north side of Scout was treacherously soft. My feet would sink into the snow with every bounding step and I would quickly have to yank them out and take another giant step lest my forward momentum would carry my upper body down the slope whilst my lower leg remained gripped by the snow in its post hole from the knee down. Dangerous. But still pretty fun! Ha Hah!

I was able to look further down the trail along a stretch I could see and I saw nobody. Nobody ahead, nobody behind. Geez, I haven't ran with a single soul the entire time out here on this last 19 mile loop! A stark contrast to the chatty first 20 miles. Oh well. I'm still feeling good and having fun. WOAH! Is that an iPod?!?! Sho'nuff, there was someone's iPod Shuffle resting on top of a pile of snow as the trail rounded a corner. Hmmmmm... Good luch finding the owner, but I'm sure someone will realize they've lost it and maybe I can get it back to them. I picked it up and put it in a velcro pocket and continued on my way blazing down the trail with a speed I was certain would catch me back up to somebody.

Nope. I got to the final aid station at mile 47 with 5 miles to go (This 50 miler was really 51.8 miles), didn't see signs of any other runners, refilled my two empty bottles (which had been empty for the past 20 minutes or so), took in some Gatorade, packed another couple gels, and set off down the road. Just before the final 500 ft climb through the Nordic Ski Area, I spotted my carrots again. But it was too late. They were 10 or so minutes in front of me and Iwasn't feeling like I had an extra 10 minutes to make up. I slogged up that last climb and glided down the other side knowing the end was within 15 minutes. And then, there I was. At the finish. A happy, dirty, smelly, tired runner who felt thrilled to finally finish a race feeling good. Ahhhhhh...

This race took us on some of the best trails I've ever been on and overall, it was just as well planned and organized in its first year as most other races are in their years and years of experience. It was truly, a first-class event and the race organizers and all the wonderful volunteers deserve all the thanks we runners can give them for taking care of us and allowing us to participate in the first running of what very well could turn out to be one of the country's best 50 mile events.

So if 52 miles and 13,680ft of elevation gain sounds like a super-duper way to spend your saturday, then put this event on your list for next year. It'll be worth it.

Results are here

Yes, that's right. A brand new 50 miler on the mountain trails stretching south from Pocatello, ID. This is the inaugural year for this event and I'd say, from the looks of things at this point, 2 days before the race, that it's gonna be a big one. And that's not just considering the 80+ solo runners and 100ish relay runners, but also taking into account the number of experienced professional level ultrarunners from all over the west that have committed to racing here.

And when you look back at the yearly race calendar over the past years, there really has been no big race in this region in May. The idea to hold a 50 miler on this particular weekend works wonderfully for those runners looking for a worthy last tune-up before the 100 milers start up with Bighorn and Western States a month from now. Maybe that's the big draw. Or maybe it's more of a convenience being so centrally located to so many. Maybe everyone just wants to get out and have a jolly good time skipping and prancing in the mountains together. I mean running. We'll be running. We're runners, not alpine fairies.

I will be using this race as a tune up for the Bighorn 100 where I have been plotting my sweet succulant revenge against the wild Bighorn Mountains in Northern Wyoming through which I battled my way to a rough finish in my first 100 miler last summer.

Another year older. Another year wiser.

And I'm coming into this race in Pocatello this weekend fitter than I've ever been. And healthy too! The patella tendonitis that has plagued me over the past two years has dissipated to the point where I now have completely pain-free downhill running. And I credit this to the change in training habits I've made this past winter and spring when I began taking long periods of rest where I would do no running other than a short one hour run once a week for six or eight weeks between events. I noticed it most at last month's Zane Grey where I felt better than I had in years despite running a total of maybe 12 hours in the preceeding four weeks. Rest good. Good for muscles. Good for lungs. Good for knees. Good for mind.

Let's go!