The Bear 100-2013 by Erik

"No, he can't have a ride!!  If he gets a ride or receives any help, he's disqualified!!"

I had just rolled my ankle and was lying face down in the dirt cursing the rocks, the rutted dirt road, the cold, my weak ankle, and the 30+ miles I still needed to run to finish the Bear 100. When I heard Greg yell these words at the hunters on 4-wheelers that kindly offered their help after witnessing my fall, I knew that there was no way I was dropping.  I'd have to break an arm or lose a limb to convince Greg that I was done.  The hunters drove off fairly bewildered, and Greg compassionately (but firmly) offered me a hand to get up and then informed me that we would walk the last mile to the Logan River Aid Station for my ankle to "swell up enough to stabilize", and then the break was over.

Typically, by the time I reach the finish line of the Wasatch 100, I'm done with running and training for the year.  I'm wiped out mentally and physically and look forward to some mellow days in the September woods.  This year, as soon as I finished Wasatch, I felt like somehow there was unfinished business to take care of, and started contemplating running the Bear.  When the opportunity came up to run, I took the bait and found myself at the start line just 3 weeks after finishing Wasatch.  My training in between was  pretty minimal.  I think I logged 50-60 miles in the interim, and I was optimistic as to how the day would unfold.

I started pretty slow, with runners streaming by on both sides as we made our way through the subdivision leading to the first of the single track.  I chuckled as the grade increased and commented to someone that if this was trail, we would be hiking instead of running.  With that thought, I slowed to a fast hike, and looked ahead to the next 99 miles.  It was overcast, in the 30's with a forecast of snow and rain showers until late afternoon and then clearing skies and temperatures dropping to the low 20's throughout the night.  It would be a perfect day in the September mountains!!

A great start to the day.

Logan Peak Aid Station

For the first 20 miles or so, I felt relatively good, although I could tell that my legs were lacking the "springiness" typically felt this early in a race.  Somewhere just after the Logan Peak aid station, I came to a 4 way intersection while running with a shirtless Kendrick ? from Colorado.  No shirt, snowing, in the 30's.  Seriously??  Anyway, the intersection wasn't marked at all.  Nothing.  We took what seemed to be the the best option, and after 5 minutes of no markers, found ourselves at the end of the road at the edge of a cliff.  Wrong way.  This could be a long day.  Maybe the infamous Bear course "marking" would be in effect today.  We met up with Robert Mueller, Seth Hales, Chuck Kanopa and a few others back at the intersection, they pointed us in the right direction, and luckily there were no questions whatsoever about the course for the next 85 miles.

Erik and Robert Mueller

Robert (Bob, Robbie) -who I had run quite a bit of Wasatch with 3 weeks ago-and I settled into a mellow pace heading down to Leatham Hollow and soon caught up to the talented Diana Finkel, who we we would play leap-frog with for the next 40 miles until just after Franklin Basin.  Leaving Leathan Hollow I ran a little with Drew Harrington who had made the trip down from Fairbanks, AK.

It was on this section that I realized it was really going to be a long 80 miles, and my day began to unravel a little bit mentally.  My hip flexors hurt, my left ankle was starting to get quite sore and irritated,and I felt some weird sort of neuroma/nerve pain on the bottom of my left big
toe that sent a little shock every time I pushed off of my toes.  Basically, my body wasn't too excited about being out for this long with another 75 miles to go.  I tried to take my mind somewhere else, enjoyed the absolutely spectacular scenery unfolding everywhere around me, and focused on getting to Tony Grove where Greg would be waiting to accompany me the 2nd half of the run.

Joe Campanelli leading the way to Cowley Canyon.

I ran with Justin Faul from Flagstaff, AZ for a bit after leaving Cowley Canyon and looking at our pace charts, realized that we were on a 20 hour pace, which before the race seemed to be a realistic goal, but given how I was feeling, now seemed akin to chasing rainbows and pink unicorns.

Cowley Canyon.  

The photo doesn't do the colors justice.

Leaving Temple Fork.

The long climb to Tony Grove ahead.

Catching up to Robert and Joe Campanelli (another Wasatch 100 finisher) we rolled into Temple Fork, and started up the long, muddy hike to Tony Grove.  Another beautiful section, with the beauty of the Crimson Maples detracting somewhat from the steep, slippery trails.  As soon as we topped out the climb and started the descent to Tony Grove, the temperature dropped, it started to snow and it got cold!!  I met Greg here, tried to get some warm soup and pumpkin chocolate chip bread in me and started the shivering hike towards the Franklin trailhead.  Man it was cold!!  It took a good 30 minutes for my fingers to warm up and for the shivering to stop.  Oddly enough, this would be the coldest I would get for the rest of the race, even though temperatures dropped significantly during the middle of the night.  Greg and I settled into a steady pace, and he did a great job of assessing how I was doing and keeping me moving.  Moving through the next few aid stations, along with Diana, Robert and a few others, we began to leapfrog with Georg Kunzfeld from Germany.  He was running his 3rd Bear and on a quest to get his first Wolverine (sub-24 hour) belt buckle. Georg would come into each aid station announcing that he was done, there was nothing left, and he couldn't eat or keep anything down.  Then after two minutes or so, would charge out like it was the start of the race.  At each aid station for the rest of the run, I would get there first, spend too much time drinking my hot chocolate and broth, Georg would arrive, make the same announcement and blast out of there before I left.  I got a kick out of it and it was a fun game to try and catch back up each time.

Gold and White after Tony Grove

Just enough snow to keep it interesting.

Somewhere between Franklin and Logan River and after the sun went down, we teamed up with Ford Smith, an amazing 17 year old from Texas who I met at the Squaw Peak 50 earlier this year.  Ford was on a quest to finish his first 100 miler and was doing an amazing job of it.  While most kids are staying up all night long on the weekend playing video games and engaging in other "wholesome" activities, Ford was displaying the tenacity and mental toughness of someone well beyond his years.  His stomach was starting to complain a little bit however, and I was hopeful he would be able to hold it together.  Just before Logan, I rolled my ankle (see above) and Greg and I found ourselves alone again.  I deep-sixed my negative thoughts and after the Logan River aid station, focused on maintaining a steady hike on the ups and a careful hobble on the descents.  I was surprised to find Robert, Georg, Ford and Chuck, plus a few others, all at the Beaver Mtn Aid station.  Apparently a steady hike can cover ground quickly.

Beaver Lodge

 I spent a few extra minutes in the warmth of the Aid station, made sure I had everything I needed for the last 25 miles, put on a jacket and took off my tights, and we were out of there.  It was here that I told Greg to go in front or behind me, whatever he felt would work best.  He took a lesson from when Jim Huffman paced me on this section in 2008 and took the lead, never really letting me catch up to him.  It was frustration at times, but effective in keeping me moving. I pulled out an old trick to help pass the time and keep my mind occupied.  There were four long climbs over the last 25 miles.  At the start of each climb I would start counting to 100 with each step of my right foot.  1000 steps was approximately 1 mile, so usually by the time I got to 3000 or 4000, I'd be at the top of the climb.  I didn't talk much to Greg during these climbs so I wouldn't lose count, but he was usually far enough ahead of me that it didn't matter, and it got me to the top of the climbs  relatively quickly. The descents were long and arduous.  I was very distrustful of my weak ankle at this point, and my legs were shot.  With that being said, I still managed to stay ahead of Georg and catch up to and pass someone else and their pacer.  I think it was Chuck Konopa.  More than anything during this section, I remember the long beautiful high mountain meadow we crossed after leaving the Beaver Creek Aid Station.  The sky was clearing with brilliant stars and a crescent moon playing hide and seek in the clouds.  The trail stretched out before us through a field of white snow and tufts of golden grass.  It was cold, with a stiff breeze playing in the tree tops, and it was one of those moments that will stand frozen in my mind.  100 mile races are run for many reasons, but in explaining to a friend tonight why run 100 rather than 25 or 50 miles, I understood that it is for moments like these, where the body and mind are so spent, so utterly depleted, that the moon is brighter, the air crisper, and the experience is seared into one's being. To quote Keith Knipling "In the process of completely exhausting myself, I connect with an inner part of me ordinarily veiled by the everyday distractions of life. During that short time spent on a trail in the mountains, my life is reduced to its simplest terms.....Going for a run always clears my head, but running 100 miles distills my soul."

As Greg and I finally came off the trail and onto the gravel road leading to the finish, Greg looked behind, saying "I'm not shi&;%ing you, but I see lights, and they're close."  I hadn't been concerned about racing for about 50 miles.  I had just been concerned with getting to the finish.  I had a vague concept of the idea of finishing under 24 hours, and that it was going to happen.  But I had no idea that there was a freight train of 6 runners only 10 minutes or less behind me, and that there were 3 runners 10 minutes or less ahead.  But now, with a light closing fast, I tried to switch gears and change my trot to a run. The stride lengthened slowly, the speed increased, I actually started to sweat and breathe hard, and still the light kept closing.  With less than 1/4 mile to go, as we turned off the gravel road and onto the highway, Georg caught up to me.  With a slap on my back, he told me in no uncertain terms that he would not pass me.  We would finish together. So, we trotted the last 1/4 mile, and finished.  Together. 23 hours 10 minutes.  Georg got his Wolverine.  A true competitor who gave it everything he had to the end, and showed true sportsmanship and the spirit of ultrarunning.  A lesson that will stick with me.

Thanks:
-Leland Barker and the Bear 100 organizers.  All the volunteers who braved the cold and bad weather to make sure that we runners, pacers and crew were well taken care of.
-Brooke, Sam, Andrew and Kate for putting up with another weekend of mountain wandering and the week of uselessness that I was, following said weekend.
-Wasatch Running Center and Gregory Packs for awesome gear and goods.
-Mom and Paul, Dad and Denise, Jack and Kathy and all others who have loved, encouraged, cheered on, shook their heads in bewilderment and so forth....
-God- for an incredible world and mountains to run in, and the most miraculous body to experience it with.

Hardrock 2012 Report and Breakup Letter

Business first:
Oh Hardrock how I love thee. From your majestic mountains to your warm and friendly family you bring together each summer, your allure is hard to escape. Your stunning scenery leaves me just as breathless as your 13,000' passes. Never has an event stripped me to my core, exposed every emotion from high to low, and left me so elated when it was over. We first met 3 years ago when I was unable to secure a spot on the start line and of course I felt scorned, but you repaid me in kind with two consecutive entries, and I thank you. As much as I love you though, the time has come for me to say goodbye. I don't plan on staying away forever, in fact I might be back next year to run with a friend or maybe to just come hang out and not have the pressure of the watch ever present. Either way I won't be toeing the start line for several years. Embrace the new runners and make them work for that finish just as you have the other 604 runners that have finished the Wild & Tough Hardrock 100. There, I said it, now I can move on.

Descending toward Cunningham AS mile 90. Photo: Greg Norrander

The Report:

After last year I at least had an idea of what I was getting myself into and I prepared appropriately by logging more vertical than I ever have and putting in many long runs. Arriving in Silverton on Wednesday I felt a nervous anticipation but nothing like the previous year. It was great catching up with the Hardrock family and meeting new people, something I never grow tired of. Getting through the pre-race check-in and meetings just left me with a desire to get it on with it. I was tired of waiting and my mood started to show it.

Finally race morning arrived and I walked down to the start with Karl. We had traveled down together and spent much of the last two days together preparing for the big loop in the San Juans. I laughed as we strolled down the dirt road to the gym and the start line, we were both wearing our puffy jackets trying to make it seem colder than it really was, a balmy 50 something. The laugh was a nervous one because we both knew that it could end up being a scorcher.

Signed in and ready to go I gave a quick kiss to Betsy, waited on the final countdown, then we were off. I never, ever, get tired of that feeling when I finally get to leave the start line, it just feels so good to finally let go of all the nervous energy. I started slow and hiked the very first climb we came to as I positioned myself in the top 30 or so. Like any ultra, the early miles rolled by easily but unlike other ultra's I held back and kept a very cautious pace. Coming through KT I was one minute off my pace, which was good, but I decided to take the climb up to Grant Swamp very easy. On the way I saw Betsy, Cheryl and Ben who had gone for a hike and took some pictures.

Climbing up to Grant Swamp Photo: Betsy Johnson

I told Betsy I would see her in Telluride and kept my steady pace up to the pass. Near the top I glanced around and I couldn't believe how many people were up there just hanging out cheering on everyone in the race. Evan Honeyfield was one of them and he quickly pointed the way down the other side as I did a dirt/rock glissade down.

At Chapman I was about 5 mins down on my pace and that actually made me feel good. I had consciously slowed down and still felt great at the 4:40 mark since I had been sticking to the plan, eating solids and drinking as much as I could stand. The biting flies at Chapman kept me moving not only out of the aid station but all the way up the climb to Oscar's Pass at 13,000'. Brian Fisher reeled me in at the top and together we picked our way down Bridal Veil basin as the clouds rolled in. Everything was still great and even improving as the temperature started to fall and the rain started coming down. By the time we hit Telluride it was a full on down pour but it didn't really matter as it still felt good. At the aid station I was still perfectly on my splits but I decided to take 10 mins in the aid station to make sure I was ready for the big climb up to Virginius Pass. I hate wasting time in aid stations but at a race like Hardrock if you get it wrong and leave without enough calories your race can fall apart and we all know what the pain cave looks like.

The climb up to Virginius is relentless and steep but thankfully the cool temperatures stuck around after the rain stopped about midway up. Near the top I found Tim Long who had gone a bit off course and Krissy Moehl just behind me. I grabbed some calories from Roch Horton and the hearty crew up at Virginius and then hit the scree again on my way down to Governor Basin Aid station. I spent 5 minutes there cleaning out my shoes and getting some more calories before getting out just before Krissy and Tim. The pace I was holding felt pretty good until they caught up to after a mile or so then I decided I could run faster without extending myself too far. We all hit Ouray at the same time and once again I was right on my splits but I decided to get some calories down and spent another 15 mins in the aid station while they got out in front of me.

Getting to Ouray felt great, not only because it's the lowest altitude on course at 7,800' or so, but I was also able to see Betsy and pick up Greg for some company. Last year Greg joined me at this same point heading in the opposite direction and my mood was pretty somber. This time around I was feeling much better and I was anxious to get up to Engineer and down to Grouse. Betsy let me know that Erik was on his way down from Salt Lake and I remember giving her this puzzled kind of look and right at that moment  my friend David Hayes showed up looking really good which made me happy. I told him to come catch me and then I checked out of the aid station. We weren't even halfway yet (mile 46) but I was confident because I was feeling so much better than last year.

Feeling a little rough around the edges in Ouray. Photo: Betsy Johnson

The trail leading out of Ouray to the point where the trail starts up Bear Creek is always longer than I expect and shortly after crossing the highway Greg reminded me it was time to eat something again.

Climbing up to the highway crossing leaving Ouray. Photo: Betsy Johnson

I opened up one of my bars and took a big bite and swallowed it down no problem, then seconds later I could tell it was coming back up. I have no idea why or what triggered the sudden reaction but it was my first puking episode of the run and it was right on queue at the 50 mile mark. Greg and I acknowledged it but didn't dwell on it and got back to the business at hand, Engineer Pass. The light slowly faded as we ascended higher and higher and I waited until it was absolutely dark before breaking out the headlamp. The rest of the way up to the aid station was pretty steady but David caught us just before we arrived. We both took our time and put down some broth and soup before tackling the last part of the climb to get over the 13,000' pass. I was down on calories and my pace near the top showed it. To make matters worse there was a "superfan" of the race waiting for us at the top and screaming at the top of his lungs "now that's what I'm talkin' bout, git'r done", over and over. Turns out he had a full bar loaded in his van and offered us a drink as we passed by, I didn't have anything nice to say so I didn't say anything at all.

The Grouse aid station slowly came into view as I tried to keep a steady pace on the descent but too much running and my stomach would start to get tight, so I alternated walk breaks in all the way down.

David Hayes and I fueling up in Grouse. Photo: Betsy Johnson

Betsy met me up the road just bit and walked me into the aid station where David was already sitting down and Tim was laying down covered in an awfully cute kitty blanket. Then I heard a familiar voice and looked over to see Erik. That was awesome. He told me he was going to run with David which I thought was super cool. After 30 minutes of stuffing food in I got up and left for the most intimidating and hard section of the run. Grouse to Sherman is 13.4 miles and travels over the high point of the race, Handies Peak at 14,048'. This is also the section where my race feel apart last year, so to say I was feeling a little nervous would be an understatement. 

I set a nice steady pace all the way up the initial climb and when we reached the ridge before descending into American Basin Greg reminded me to eat again. I threw down a couple of Gu Chomps without thinking about it and seconds later I had the same feeling as before, they wanted to get back out. This time I decided to fight it and proceeded to do some deep fast breathing and sat down to get my heart rate down. A few minutes later it passed and I was fine, disaster averted. Back on track, I glanced up and saw the headlamps in front of us makiing their way up to the peak. It still seemed a long way off but a short time later I was standing on the final ridge with a steady 20mph wind pushing me sideways, making my way to the summit. I pointed out the spot where I puked on the peak last year and quickly got off that beast. At Hardrock it is vital to get down as quickly as possible. The body is completely stressed at altitude and as Betsy Nye told me last year "You aren't doing yourself any favors hanging out at the top". Sure enough, as soon as would lose some altitude everything would start feeling better. David was also feeling well as he picked up the pace and passed me on the descent. Before reaching Sherman I caught up to Krissy and found out she was having a hard time getting any food down which was a real bummer.

The Sherman aid station allowed me another chance to get some solid fuel down and prepare for another long 9 mile section. David and I left at about the same time but it was pretty clear he was starting to really feel good and he power hiked away from me. It would be the last time I would see him until the finish. I left Sherman a little after 5am and the early morning light made me feel a little better initially but around 6am I started to crumble a little bit mentally. I had been out for 24 hours and it was likely going to take another 10 to reach the finish. That's a tough thing to accept at that point in the run, but I kept repeating "the more I run the sooner I'll get there". At mile 81 Pole Creek came and went like a blurry dream and then the descent to Maggie Gulch at mile 85 was quickly upon us. My quads were starting to feel completely fried on every descent and I started to experience some patellar knee pain. I tried to analyze why they would be hurting and Greg just simply replied "maybe it's because you've descended 30,000' so far". Yeah, that might do it.

At Maggie I was pleasantly surprised to see Betsy who had ran in with Suzanne so she could take over from Erik and run with David to the finish.

Betsy, somewhere in Maggie Gulch. Photo: Suzanne Lewis

Greg was off getting supplies for the next leg and I asked Betsy if she would like to run the last 9 miles from Cunningham to the finish. Betsy has never paced me but I knew she would enjoy seeing the course and experiencing the run from my perspective. She said sure and sent me on my way up a brutal 1,200' climb out of the aid station. Billy Simpson was trailing behind us by a bit and eventually caught us while we were traversing across the top. He got in front of us briefly then turned around and pointed straight ahead "best view on the whole course, the Grenadiers". And he was right, they were spectacular and I probably would have missed them if he hadn't said something.

Billy Simpson and I at the top of Maggie Gulch. Photo: Greg Norrander

More climbs and descents and I finally laid my eyes on the beast, Dives Little Giant. I had been thinking about this climb since I found out I was doing the run, 2,700' in 3 miles, topping out at 13,000'. I was tired but a little hail storm on the descent to the aid station urged me along in a timely manner.

Ridge running at it's best. Dives Little Giant is on the right. Photo: Greg Norrander

Betsy was all ready to go and after a quick re-fueling I was on my way. Finishing at this point was a forgone conclusion as I glanced down at my watch and figured out I had a little less than 3.5 hours to get to the finish if I wanted to stay under 34 hours.

Greg and I at Cunningham. Coke and broth to get me to the finish. Photo: Betsy Johnson

As silly as it sounds I was actually quite proud of myself for having the mental capacity to do some simple math as I started up the steep the climb. I could tell Betsy was super excited to be running this last section because she was talking non-stop until I increased the pace and let the altitude go to work. The strong hike I was holding in the first half started to falter near the top when the 12k gorilla jumped on my back one last time. I took a few breaks and watched Brett Gosney close in on us. With a few hundred feet to the top Betsy and I joined up with Brett and Missy to make the final push up King Solomon Mountain and finish off the last climb of the day. I felt a great sense of relief looking down into Little Giant Basin and took off straight away down the rocky narrow descent while Brett stopped to stretch out a cramp.

Betsy and I at 13,000' on top of Dives Little Giant. Photo: Missy Gosney

The clouds slowly grew darker and shortly after getting off the trail and on the long dirt road the skies opened up once again with a very refreshing afternoon shower. The rain lasted all the way down to the stream crossing when it suddenly stopped and by the time we hit the rolling singletrack the sun was shining and forest was shimmering light all around us. I couldn't have scripted a better ending, running with Betsy in the final miles through a stunning landscape. 

We exited the forest and as soon as the Kendall Ski lodge came into view I started to get a little emotional. Running through town I couldn't believe it was going to be over, I was relived but also saddened that the great adventure would be finished. I gave Betsy a quick kiss with a block or two to go and let my emotions carry me down the finishing chute where I kissed the rock. I looked up at the clock: 33 hours 44 minutes and just like that Hardrock was over.

The Rock. Finished. Photo: Betsy Johnson

I can't end this report without thanking the Hardrock family, including the board, the committee, all the aid station volunteers, and communications folks for taking such good care of us runners. Greg is one of the best friends I have I can't thank him enough for dealing with my ornery ass for countless hours, I hope I get to repay you soon, thanks Greg. Thanks to my family for supporting me not only during the race but all the time spent preparing for the big loop in the San Juans. Betsy is my best friend, the best crew I could ask for (even if she did drink my last red bull :) and it was really special to share the trail with her over the last 9 miles. Goodbye Hardrock, I already miss you.


Memories of Hardrock:

Somewhere after Stony Pass. Photo: Greg Norrander

Top of Maggie Gulch chasing Billy Simpson. Photo: Greg Norrander

Descending toward Maggie Gulch. Photo: Greg Norrander

Early morning in Cataract Gulch. Photo: Greg Norrander

Salt Flats 100, 2012

There is a faint light of a runner behind me, and the promising, taunting, frustratingly small light of the finish line in front of me.  Legs hurting in a variety of spots, lower left anterior compartment, and both sets of quads aching with each shuffling step, I slowly work toward the finish.  After 96.2 miles, only able to maintain an 11 minute per mile pace, I have 40 plus minutes of straight running towards a light at the finish.  “Are we there yet?”  “How many more miles do you think we have to go?”  “Hold on I need to pee again.”  Erik, my pacer, I suspect, felt like a parent on a long car trip with an anxious kid in the back seat.  We had been warned to keep moving along as the last stretch would “play with our minds”.  

Photo: Greg Norrander

Peter and Jay staying warm before the start.  Photo: Greg Norrander

Waiting for the start.  Photo: Greg Norrander

At 7 AM yesterday, about 50 of us set off on the hard white compacted salt left when Lake Bonneville evaporated.  My 4th grade son recently wrote a paper on the Salt Flats.  As I started the race on the flat hard surreal surface, I tried to imagine Ab Jenkins in the Mormon Meteor speeding across this odd Pleistocene-era landscape named after a guy (Benjamin Bonneville) who probably never actually saw the Salt Flats.  Even Jay’s record-setting fast pace about 9 minutes per mile (for the full 100) is almost geologically slow compared to the Blue Flame’s record 630 miles per hour or 5.4 seconds per mile.  The Salt Flats are 12 miles long, 5 miles wide, and we were beginning a 100 miler running across them.  

Practice running on the Flats.  Photo: Greg Norrander

Probably the best lounge act at the Rainbow Casino.

Greg and I drove out the night before and stayed in West Wendover.  Despite the shifty characters, cigarette smoke, lure of a tempting lounge act, slot machines, and bar, I was well rested after a night at the Rainbow "Resort" and Casino.  At the start of the race I met up with Daryl Hultquist, another Kenyon College grad.  Daryl and I played soccer together at Kenyon, and by happenstance were both signed up for this race.  Though we had never run together, we matched a nice pace for most of the morning.  

Running with Daryl Hultquist. Photo Greg Norrander

After clearing the Salt Flats, we ended up running through some lovely mud that
added unwanted weight to our shoes.  Jay’s parents were waiting at Aid Station 2 (mile 16), kindly greeted us, and quickly sent us on our way despite instructions from Jay to strike up a long conversation to slow me down.  Daryl and I caught Kristopher Hawbaker, a Navy pilot running his first 100.  We took turns breaking wind (oops, I mean "drafting") behind each other as we ran towards the first climb.  I appreciated the drafting quite a lot, though I wasn’t sure that I was helping cut much wind for these tall guys.

Heading into Aid Station 3. Photo: Greg Norrander

Daryl and I made a quick climb of Cobb Peak Pass at mile 25.5, the first climb of the day.  As Daryl stopped to take in some calories I found myself running alone for the first time all day.  The descent made for some very fun running, followed by an unusually pleasant rolling gravel road to aid station 5.  At aid station 5, I was perfectly on pace for an 18 hour finish.  This was an arbitrary and naive target given my lack of course knowledge and training.  The 19 mile loop through and around Crater Island was amazing, worthy of a destination run itself, though it wrecked my 18 hour ambition.  After the descent from aid station 6, there is a 7 mile stretch across a perfectly flat old lake bed of intermittently forgiving mud.  Running across this in the full sun and head wind was tough. The vast expansive desolateness was beautiful, but made me feel very small, insignificant, and slow as the positions in the distance didn’t seem to get any closer no matter my speed.  Daryl caught up to me on the mud and we stayed together for the next 20 or so miles.  We alternated running and walking, over the flat sections.  I was happy for the rest, given how uncertain my fitness was for running so long on such flat terrain.  While the couple of climbs were welcome breaks,  I stressed about how the decreased pace would affect my overall time.

Aid Station 5 in the distance.  Photo: Greg Norrander

After some soup and encouragement from Carolyn Luckett who captained the aid station 10, Daryl and I split-up.  With 7 miles to the next aid station, shrinking daylight, and being far enough off my pace, the calculation to leave my headlamp at mile 74 was starting to look foolish.  The descent west into the sunset was spectacular though, and while I risked running in the dark without a light, the view on that section was worthy of the miscalculation.  

As I got close to the 11th aid station, Erik met me on the gravel road.  After his previous night of disrupted sleep, a run up Unkle in the morning, and a long day in the VA dental clinic, Erik was still ready to run a marathon with me well into the night. (One couldn't ask for better friends.)  As it became darker and darker, we left our lights off- the road was easy to follow, and we didn’t want to become a target to run after.  We weren’t going to give up second place.  Mentally the last climb went by quickly as did the descent as we exchanged stories and jokes.  

Once we hit the paved road for the last 6 miles, things got hard.  Three weeks ago I ran this section with Christian and Jay.  It was hard then because of a headwind and fast pace.  Now it was hard because of 90 + miles on my legs, the worry that there was someone tracking us down, and an inability to run faster than 11 minutes per mile with a frequent need to walk and pee.  The lights behind us didn’t seem to be close, but it was difficult to tell if any were coming with pace.  There was still a fair bit of ground to cover. 

Running the last 3.8 miles with a dim, teasing target in front is mentally challenging.  The constellations of stars were a distraction as were the cars in the distance on I-80, but the overall goal of getting to the small light at the finish was hard to ignore.  Sometimes time and distance constrict, but here time and distance seemed to exapand.  I eventually crossed the finish line in 19 hours 23 minutes, good for second place behind an amazingly fast 15:04 from Mr. Aldous.  It was windy and cold at the finish.  After a brief interview with the Park City TV crew doing a documentary on the race, Greg, Erik, and I headed back for Salt Lake City to catch the few hours of sleep left in the night.  

Photo Greg Norrander

Many thanks to Vince Romney who directed a very well run race.  The course is spectacular.  The volunteers, from fellow runners, scout troops, and parents of runners made this an even more memorable event.  A huge thanks to Erik and Greg for crew and pacing support.   Huge congratulations to Jay for running a perfect race and setting yet another record.  He made it look easy.  It was not.  I won't say that I am hooked on flat 100s, but I think I am hooked on this race.  Plan to run this unique event before it becomes so popular that you can't get in.

Photo: Greg Norrander

One post script-note: wearing a brand new pair of shoes of a model that you have never worn for a 100 mile race may seem like a bad idea, even stupid.  The Brooks Pure Grit however were flawless, silky, perhaps even stylish with bright orange uppers and lime green soles.  Certainly destined for the brotherhood of traveling shoes.

Breaking News: Jay sets the 50+ 100 mile World Record

Last night (Dec. 17th, 2011) in Phoenix Arizona at the Desert Solstice, Jay Aldous finished running 100 miles around a track in 13:52:29! That's an average of 8:19 per mile. In doing so he set a new World (and American) record for the 50 to 54 age group. As fast as Jay was he was 2nd in the 100 mile event to Michael Arnstein who finished in 13:46:18!

The previous 50-54 age group American record was held by Gard Leighton of California with a time of 14:56:19, set back in '85.
The previous 50-54 age group World record was held by Denis Weir of Great Britain with a time of 13:55:48, set back in '88.

Watch for a full report in the next couple days from Jay, until then Congratulations Jay!

Cascade Crest 100 Race Report 2010

The Cascade Crest 100 has been on my list since I started doing Ultra’s a few years ago.  Even though it is fairly new (started in 1999), I consider it one of the classics.  There are a few main ingredients that make a race stand out from the rest to be considered a classic and for me those are; a quality course, good organization and adequate trail marking, all of which I had heard Cascade possessed.  So when Greg and I were both snubbed by the Wasatch lottery we immediately signed up.

Race day arrived with cool temperatures and a sunny sky.  Right before we started I got a chance to say hi to Matt Hart who would be pacing Bill Huggins and I was able to meet Kathleen (a last minute fill-in for pacing).  Greg and I took our spot near the front and broke off into a gentle jog once the gun sounded.  We stayed back from the lead pack a good 30 yards or so and formed a small second group.  After a mile or two we started the first significant climb of the day up to Goat Peak.  Roughly 3000’ vertical in 3 to 4 miles.  We were almost immediately swarmed by faster runners as we slowed down to power hike the uphill road grade.  Many folks ran by us and I just watched them all go by as I thought about the plan.

The climb finally gave way to some excellent ridge running with short ups and downs as we tried in vain to stay ahead of some motorcycles.  We paused a few times to take in the views to the north that included some stunning mountain ranges as well as the views to the south that included Mt. Rainier covered in a cloud.  I glanced at my watch a few times and as we drew closer to the 2 hour mark I told Greg we must be close.  Sure enough we hit the Cole Butte aid station at mile 11 with a group that was placed 11th through 20th in 2:02.  The aid station crew had us quickly on our way with fresh bottles for a long dirt road descent followed by an equally long climb to the Blowout Mtn aid station at mile 15.  It was now a little past noon and the temperature was still hovering in the mid 60’s with very few clouds in sight.  We passed a few folks through this section and moved up to 11th and 12th.  Again we hit the aid station right on schedule in 2:52.

I was really looking forward to this section following Blowout Mountain because we would spend the next 30 miles or so on the Pacific Crest Trail.  I was growing tired of the dirt road and I was anxious to get rolling on some proper singletrack.  I was told to expect the PCT to be overgrown and a bit on the technical side, but I have to say it was really quite tame compared to some of the trails we frequent in the Wasatch.  It was still a mental boost to get on the trail and our pace increased on the long gradual descent to the next aid station at mile 23, Tacoma Pass, where we would see Jay and Marge (Greg’s wife) for the first time.  About midway through it started to feel like we were holding back but when we arrived we were right on time in 4:18.  It really felt much shorter than that and while I paused to clean out my shoes we were passed by Kim Gimenez and Jon Robinson.  Jay and Marge had us out of there in a flash and told us they would see us again in 11 miles.

Not to far out of the aid station we passed Kim and traded places a few times with Jon, mostly when we were climbing.  I figured if we were getting passed this early on the descents that was fine, I knew there would plenty of descending to do later in the race so long as we didn’t trash our quads to gain a minute or two here and there.  If there was anywhere I felt the heat it was through this 6 mile section to Snowshoe Butte.  I believe we were going through some old clear cut and the trail was quite exposed, so Greg and I adjusted our pace and just eased off the throttle a bit to keep everything in check.  Despite this we passed another couple of runners including Devon Crosby-Helms (she would sadly stop at Stampede Pass) and Arthur Martineau.  I was still staying faithful to the eating schedule and drinking as much as I could handle but I noticed I hadn’t peed in a while.  I wasn’t deeply troubled but I did make a mental note to take a sip a little more often.

The Snowshoe Butte aid station at mile 29 is nearly a mile trek from the nearest road, so I was kind surprised when I could hear it before I could see it.  Then as we crested a hill and it came into view it became clear why there was so much noise; a bunch of very enthusiastic teenagers.  High school cross-country runners to be exact and they we are all running around barefoot, anxious to fill our bottles and send us on our way.  Their energy was infectious and my stride felt a little quicker as we left in 9th and 10th place following the trail back into some old growth forest.  It was almost 4pm and I let Greg know we were nearly done with the hottest part of the day.  So far so good, the plan was working.  I was starting to feel some of the general aches and pains associated with running 30 miles, mostly in my hips and knees, but otherwise I was feeling solid, especially my stomach.  Greg reported the same

It seemed like no time at all when we emerged from the forest and came to the big power line clearing.  This was the indication that we were within a mile or two of Stampede Pass aid station at mile 34.  Stampede Pass is one of the major aid stations on course, much like Big Mountain at the Wasatch 100, so I was preparing myself for the melee associated with such stops.  Something about all the noise and attention always seems to give me a little shot of adrenaline which would normally be okay, but during a 100 miler it’s usually enough to send my stomach south.

Sure enough we could hear the station well before it came into view and once we rolled in Greg went with Marge and I went with Jay.  Kathleen was there and immediately jumped in to help.  She also introduced me to Justin, a friend of hers who she had found to run the last 32 miles with me.  I asked him if he felt like staying up all night and I received an enthusiastic yes.  Next, Jay was urging me out of the chair and I started walking toward the trail when Matt Hart asked me how I felt, while he was recording me on his iphone.  Then Jay stuck his phone to my ear where I heard Betsy, my wife, on the other end.  That was it.  The emotional wave was taking hold and about to engulf me.  I quickly told Betsy I was feeling great and not to worry, then she wished me well before I handed the phone back to Jay.  I was keeping the emotional wave at bay but I needed to get out of there in a hurry.  As soon as I heard Greg right behind me I took off up the steep grade leaving the aid station.  

Once the noise had faded behind us I settled down and got back into a familiar climbing rhythm.  Only then did I remember to look at the pace chart where I discovered we had come in 6 minutes ahead of schedule in 6:23.  On the opposite side of the pace chart I had printed a profile so I would know what to expect between aid stations.  I informed Greg that we had an initial climb followed by a “meat grinder”(a series of short rollers) to the next aid station.  The trail was really incredible through here as it wound it’s way along the PCT and after a couple of miles I spotted another runner in front of us, Stuart Johnson.  I’m not sure if he increased his pace or not when he heard us but it certainly felt like it took a little while to reel him in.  We eventually caught him and he stepped aside as we exchanged pleasantries.  Then a strange thing happened, instead of just letting us go he tucked in behind Greg and started matching our pace.

It wasn’t a big deal to have a third guy along in our group but it did kind of mess with the vibe we had going.  I turned the screw ever so slightly on the climbs but he wouldn’t let go.  Eventually we saw Jay running up the trail to greet us and I figured we must have been close to the Mountain Meadow aid station but in fact Jay had run about a mile out to escort us in and figure out what we would need for the next section.  We hit the aid station in 7:41, taking another 10 minutes off our scheduled pace and Jay had us back out without missing a beat.  Stuart was still along for the ride but I could tell he was laboring just a bit in his first 100 miler.  I could also feel the effects of the pace and we backed off just a little bit on our way to Olallie Meadows at mile 48.

Again Jay ran out to meet us and get an idea of what we needed.  I decided to take a seat for a minute and enjoy one of the perogies offered up by the aid station.  Despite my stomach being a little off I was able to get one down and it really tasted good.  Greg and I left after a minute or two while Stuart decided he needed a little more time.  Sadly, he would end up dropping at the next aid station.  We followed the PCT to for another couple of miles before turning right onto a dirt road that would take us up to the top of the ski hill we would descend to the Hyak aid station.  In the pre-race meeting we had been warned to mentally prepare for this tough section going down the ski hill.  I don’t know if it was because it was still light or what but it just wasn’t that hard and Greg and I rolled into Hyak nearly 25 minutes ahead of schedule.  Between Jay, Jamie (Tom Remkes’ wife), Marge and Kathleen we in and out of Hyak in a hurry.

Kathleen was full of energy and ready to run but Greg and I decided to walk for a few minutes up the paved road and get everything in order for the 7.5 mile climb in front of us.  Before the race we had both read how runnable this section was if you were feeling well and as Kathleen reminded us of that as we broke into a jog.  The time actually seemed to pass a little faster with Kathleen along as she was able to talk while Greg and I grunted our replies back.  At the top of the ridge the my watch confirmed what I already knew, we had taken even more time out of our pace schedule and we had caught Adam Lint.  We were now sitting in 7th and 8th as we began the long dirt road descent to the Kachess Lake aid station.  Greg’s knee started protesting a bit on the descent but I knew the next section would give it plenty of rest as there isn’t much running to do.  Turns out that was theme throughout the race, as soon as we grew tired of descending there was a climb and vice versa.

We seemed to take almost everyone by surprise when we rolled into Kachess Lake at mile 68 as we were now 40 minutes ahead of schedule and sitting in 6th and 7th.  Jay let me know my pace schedule was bulls**t and I just smiled back.  Greg and I said goodbye to Kathleen as I picked up my new pacer Justin and Greg had his friend Ryan joining us for the final 32 miles.

Next up was a 6 mile section known as the “trail from hell”, scheduled to take us a little over two hours.  I was actually kind of looking forward to it, mostly to see if it was going to live up to the myth.  Almost as soon as we left the dirt road the fun started.  Downed trees, steep ups followed by steep downs with no chance to get in a rhythm.  Greg fell and hit his forearm pretty hard and little later on I pounded my knee on a tree I was attempting to cross.  Despite the small setbacks we cleared this section faster than we had planned and arrived at Mineral Creek nearly an hour ahead of our plan.  Mile 74, time to rally.  At least that’s what I thought before we started the climb up No Name Ridge.  I won’t lie, this long dirt road flat out sucked.  The only redeeming quality about it was that it was dark and we couldn’t see how far we had to go, which was nearly 8 miles to the next aid station.  Even Justin and Ryan remarked how long it seemed.

I was straining to see anything through the darkness when I noticed a light up ahead.  Greg didn’t believe me at first but as we continued our power hike we were reeling in the runner ahead.  As we came up next to him we asked if everything was okay or if he needed anything before I asked his name.  It was Lon Freeman.  I remarked that I’ve been impressed with his fast times and to keep plugging away, you’re bound to come around I said.  Once we were out of earshot I turned to Greg, “That was Lon Freeman, we’re not just having a good race, we’re having a great race!”.  Admittedly, I’m sure Lon was not on one of his best days, but passing someone of his caliber at mile 80 is a good sign in my book.  Finally that God forsaken road came to an end and right as we were leaving the aid station Lon pulled in.  The aid station told us the next guy was about 30 minutes in front of us.  Looks like we have a race on our hands I remarked to Greg as we set off toward the Cardiac Needles, a series of short 500’ to 1000’ climbs, about 5 in all.

Back on to the single track and I was feeling good.  This was another section we had heard was really hard and to be prepared for some tough climbing.  We were heading up the second climb when I stopped to take a leak.  Justin and I had pulled ahead of Greg by a couple of minutes and as he caught up he told me it was time for me to go on without him.  I protested immediately.  We were 83 miles into this thing and the thought of finishing separately hadn’t even entered my mind.  It was really a hard thing to get my head around, we were a team and I really wanted to finish together.  I gave in and turned my focus back to the race and the runner 30 minutes ahead of me.

Not long after parting ways with Greg a cloud moved in on the mountain and visibility was reduced to 5 feet or so making the descents a little slower than I would have preferred.  The Thorpe Mountain aid station was our next objective at mile 85.  But just before the aid station the we had to climb a short out and back to the top of the mountain, retrieving a little card to prove we made it.  As Justin and I picked our way down the descent we found Greg starting up, only 10 minutes or so back.  I was still hopeful of Greg joining me but he encouraged me to press on.  We hit the aid station somewhere around 4am, topped off bottles and found out the next runner was about 20 minutes in front of us.

I ran as fast as I could manage through the thick fog, anxious to catch the guy in front of me.  French Cabin was the next aid station, only 4 miles away.  It seemed like no time at all when I heard a loud cheer through the fog.  I looked at my watch to note the time.  The runner in front had just gone through the aid station and if I could hear them I knew I was close.  5 minutes was the gap as I came into view and the aid station cheered.  I appreciated the enthusiasm but I knew the runner in front would also realize I was close with the noise.  To my surprise Jay was there to greet me.  I let him know what happened with Greg and he told me the guy in front of me was only a few minutes up but he was looking good.

There were only 11 miles left so I didn’t bother holding back.  As we descended out of the cloud I was sure I would spot a light in front of us but there was nothing.  I picked up the pace even more and skipped my eating schedule, but still there was no one in sight.  The 3000’+ descent over 6 miles was starting to take it’s toll on my worn out body and I relented.  I slowed my pace and just concentrated on picking a clean line down the rock infested descent.  Justin did a good job of encouraging me but I only had one gear left.

The Silver Creek aid station finally appeared and I saw Marge waiting there for Greg.  We barely stopped as I wanted to just be done at this point.  I walked a good half mile over some torn up dirt road that would have required more energy than I had to run.  Once we hit the smooth stuff I started jogging, realizing I would be close to breaking 21 hours.  I’m usually a pretty fast finisher, but not on this day, I had left it all out there.  I glanced at my watch as it passed the 21 hour mark and almost that same moment the finish line came into view.  I crossed the line in 21:03.33, good enough for 5th place and my PR for 100 miles.  Jay and Matt were there to congratulate me as well as RD Charlie Crissman.  Jeff Browning was also there, kicked back in a chair after cruising to 1st place and a new course record in 18:31.

Marge arrived a short time later and let us know Greg had come through the last aid station.  Not long after I spotted Greg and Ryan approaching the finish.  Then I noticed another runner behind him by only 30 seconds or so, it was Lon Freeman chasing down Greg.  We all started yelling for Greg as they both pushed to finish line.  Greg ended up holding off Lon by 32 seconds to finish in 6th at 21:43!

For once I exceeded my expectations in a 100 miler and it feels really good.  If you’ve never done Cascade you should definitely consider it, Charlie does an incredible job organizing a great group of volunteers.  Thanks to the Easton Fire Fighters and all the other volunteers who did an great job marking the course and fueling us along the way.  Our pacers, all untested, performed flawlessly and made the journey much more pleasant.  Thank you Kathleen, Justin and Ryan, it was fun to have you along for the ride.  Jay and Marge did an excellent job keeping us from getting to comfortable at the aid stations and always having everything we needed.  Thank you.  And thanks to my wonderful family who not only allow me to pursue these adventures, but encourage me along the way.  Happy trails :)

Cascade bound

By this time tomorrow Greg and I will be looking up at the Cascades from the town Easton, Washington, making sure our swiss knot's are secure and thinking about the 100 miles of trail that lie in front of us.  The Cascade Crest 100 starts on Saturday at 10am PST, with around 120 runners attempting to finish the 100 mile classic.

If you're interested in watching how it unfolds you can check out the webcast or Matt Hart's twitter feeds.  That is if you can manage to pull yourself away from the UTMB race (which might be over by that point anyway). The coverage at Cascade is sure to be a little spotty with limited coverage around there, but it's better than nothing.

I'm not going to reveal the goals Greg and I have for the race, but I am cautiously optimistic that the cool temps that are predicted will go a long way in helping us achieve a decent time.  Look for a full report next week and in the mean time good luck to all those tapering for Wasatch.