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.

Salt Flats 100 2012 - Call for Volunteers

For those folks who live along the Wasatch Front, the Salt Flats 100 is both a great race to run and perhaps volunteer at. The landscape is surreal and just being out in the West Desert in the springtime is a treat. Vince Romney had a successful first year event in 2011 - and is looking to expand the field to 50 runners in 2012. So check out the Salt Flats 100 website and email Vince if either you'd like to run, or would be interested in volunteering. There are still a couple of aid stations that need staffing. Hope to see you there....

Salt Flats 100 Race Report

“No!” was the emphatic response from Christian when I asked, “Should I run the inaugural Salt Flats 100?” Peter just shook his head in a way that said he agreed with Christian. Greg remained neutral with the statement, “It would be an interesting place to take pictures.”

Christian caught that I was taken aback by the certainty of his answer and followed-up with a “Why?” I explained that my rational brain agreed with him and knew running the Salt Flats 100 was a bad idea. It recognized that it is too early in the year for me to run a 100 miler since I don’t have the base miles in yet. It reminded me that I’m feeling healthy and asked why would I want to take a chance on getting hurt. And, with a number of races coming up at 2-week intervals, it asserted that I would not have time to recover and would be racing with heavy legs – something it advised me I did not want!

However, my emotional brain which “wears the pants” in my head so to speak, had me convinced me that, a) a long run would be good for me, b) a 100 mile PR could a possibility, and c) it would be just f’n cool to run out on the Salt Flats (my rational brain did argue that the Salt Flats would still be there next year and that there was no urgency to run this year, but what does that brain know??).

Given the title of this post you know that my emotional brain prevailed.

“I’m not worthy” was all I could think as I stood at the starting line with Davy Crockett, Ben Benjamin and Heidi Bennett, who between them have more one-hundred milers under their collective belts than I have years. This was a run of the veterans and I felt honored to be in their presence.

The first 11 miles of the course follows a dike through the salt flats. Completely flat. Completely straight. And, completely void of vegetation. Surreal would be an understatement! Perfect terrain to get started on my “day dream list,” topics that I knew would allow me to withdraw into my head for many hours (and hopefully many miles)

The course then circumnavigates Floating Island, which truly appears to be floating in the Salt Flats when viewed from a distance. From Floating Island the course traverses over to Silver Island. The first 30 miles of the course are mostly flat on graded gravel roads.

My goal for the day was to try and set a 100 PR and hopefully go sub 16. At aid station #2 (21 miles) I was ahead of my splits and feeling optimistic I could have a strong run. Then, as the road curved around the north side of Silver Island I hit a strong wind blowing over Donner/Reed pass. For the next 8 miles I pushed into a relentless 20 mph + wind. By the time I reached Aid #3 (30 miles) I was back on my splits. I was discouraged as it was too early in the day to be loosing time. I felt worked from pushing into the wind. Leaning into the wind with each stride taking just a bit more effort had caused my hamstrings to become super tight. And, with the wind and intermittent sideward blowing snow I was unable to stay warm. I had lost motor control in my arms and was having a hard time pulling my bottles in and out of my hip pack. Maybe Christian was right. This was a bad idea!

From Aid #3 the course turned north onto Crater Island for a 16 mile out and back. I was stoked in that there were two good climbs and descents that allowed me to stretch my hamstrings and work my legs differently. The mountains blocked the wind and I was feeling good again.

I came into Aid #5 (46 miles) 15 minutes ahead of my splits. Could I really have picked it up that much? Was I feeling that much better? Perhaps my splits were off. None-the-less, my head was back in the race. To add extra spirit to my soul, my parents were waiting for me at Aid #5 to wish me well. How thoughtful of them to drive out from Salt Lake for a brief 1 minute encounter. They have always been highly supportive of my running from that very first day when I was 17, after reading in Outside Magazine about the Western States 100 when I announced to them that there was this 100-mile trail run in California across the Sierras that I wanted to do. I can remember the incredulous looks on their faces when I explained that if I finished in less than 24 hours I would get a belt buckle. I’m sure at the time, that odd proclamation made no sense to them, but from that moment on they have always been there to support me in my running and cycling endeavors.



After Aid #5, RD Vince Romney drove by to let me know that the turn-around on the out and back had been misplaced by about a mile. Damn! No wonder my split had been so good. Vince said that he would come up with multiplier to add to the times that would account for the shortage.

From Aid #5 the course climbs several thousand feet through a canyon that cuts across Silver Island. The climb felt good, though I could feel the wind at my back and knew that once I connected to the main road and began the second loop around the north end of Silver Island that I would again be pushing into the wind. Such a shame to waste a tailwind on a climb I thought to myself as I stressed about not knowing what time I would need to break 16 hours. After doing some mental math, I convinced myself that I should be safe if I could finish in less than 15:40.

The second time around the north side of Silver Island I felt better. I suspect it was nothing more than I knew what to expect and I appropriately managed my expectations. After Aid #7 (69 miles) I knew that I would soon be seeing Erik and Christian. I had been running alone since the start and was looking forward to the company. Plus, I knew that through a combination of them encouraging me, and me not wanting to disappoint them – I would be able to finish the last 25 miles with strength and dignity.

At Aid #8 (80 miles) the course crosses over Silver Island from the west to the east and then back to the west. On the last climb over the island I could tell I was running out of gas. Erik could sense me fading and set the perfect pace to pull me up the hill and back down to Aid #9 (91 miles) where Christian was waiting. In typical Christian style, Christian had calculated EXACTLY what we needed to do the last 9 miles in to finish in less than 15:40. “Beam me to the finish, Christian” I thought as we clipped along.

I crossed the finish line in 15:36 hoping that it was good enough to claim a sub 16 100-mile time. Regardless, I felt good and knew I had run a good race for me. I was content.

Top finishers were (times are adjusted to factor in the 2 mile shortage)

Jay Aldous 15:57
Davy Crockett 22:01
Heidi Bennett 25:50

A big thanks to race director Vince Romney and family who went to tremendous lengths to pull of an amazing first year event that included some surprises including nasty weather, sabotaged flagging, and flat tires. Thank you Vince. My crystal ball says this is going to be a great annual race.

And Christian, Peter and Greg, something tells me I’ll be pacing you at some point as you shoot for a 100-mile PR out on the Salt Flats!