Wasatch 2013, Peter's Race Report

2013 has been a tough year.  We have had some bad luck. My wife fractured her femur skiing.  When the pillar of the family has a broken leg, things tend to unravel.  We also chose some disruptions, like taking on a puppy (a lifelong dream of my daughter).   Being grounded with a puppy meant no summer travel, which translated into my taking no time off over the summer, not a day.  September 6th was my first vacation day of the summer, and it was going to be a good day! 

Photo by Derrick Lytle

Unlike most years, I had no pre-race nightmares.  Sure I was nervous about how the day would unfold, but I had done everything I could to prepare given the constraints I had on my training.  Besides I had the relatively fresh perspective of being “crew” and “pacer” following a serious injury for my wife.  100 miles is not that far, and it is after all just a race.  

I prepared well most of the summer, including an 85 mile run/hike of the Uinta Highline Trail, that was complete with an unforgiving beating of the feet and a prolonged high altitude headache as I tried to keep pace with Erik.  While none of my weekly mileages were anything heroic, I kept up about 50-75 miles a week with about 13,000 feet of vertical during my biggest weeks.  During my weeks of hospital rounding and weekend call I cut back to around 40 miles a week.  

Running Lab at TOSH, photo by Astrid Lindgren 

Early in the summer I took part in a running shoe study at TOSH, comparing running efficiency, economy and gait mechanics whilst barefoot, with a minimal shoe, and a traditional running shoe.  At the end of the study I sat down with Jim Walker, Director of Sports Science at TOSH, and talked about my gait mechanics and some training strategies.  I took home some pearls about upper body movement, stride angle, and gait with respect to running efficiency and economy, and a personalized speed work-out plan. Our short conversation prompted a few more speed/threshold work-outs than I would have otherwise done, though I never made it to the track for the true speed work-outs.  That was left for the backyard sprinting after a puppy and playing soccer.  Incidentally, 3 weeks before Wasatch I broke a rib playing soccer with a bunch of 11 year-olds.  Unfortunately, I had no one to complain to at home as my wife felt I deserved such an injury for deciding to horse around with the little ruffians.  

This was the first year that our entire MRC group was running the Wasatch, and partly because of that I chose not to have a pacer.  While we didn’t have specific plans to run together I did imagine that we would spend a little time together on the trail.  In the crowd at the start we found each other, and formed a nice congo line to travel the rolling first miles and the first climb.  The temperature was in the mid 80s at the start.  I felt like I was struggling to keep up with Jay, Kevin, Greg, Erik and Christian.  I dropped back and fell into another small group with a shirtless-due to the heat David Hayes on our climb towards Chinscaper.  Eventually, while keeping my effort level in check, I caught up to Greg, Erik, Kevin, and Jay before we hit the ridge.  Christian was a few minutes ahead of us.  After Grobben’s corner, mile 13ish, we ran together off and on to Francis Peak, mile 18, occasionally holding hands (seriously we held hands). Erik was a few minutes ahead and would steadily get further and further away.  While the pace seemed reasonable I was behind my previous year’s splits.  The group think, however, was that running slower was more reasonable than trying to keep pace with splits from much cooler years.  Ben Lewis stopped me at the start to say that these conditions would play right into my strategy of holding back and dealing with the diminished state of other runners late in the race. 

At some point before Bountiful B, mile 24, we caught up to Christian, and had the whole gang together minus Erik who was blazing ahead.  While I failed to notice it, Christian was already starting to have problems (he would eventually drop at Big Mountain).  By 10 AM the oven was heating up.  There was a pleasant breeze that made it feel comfortable, but I knew what was ahead in terms of weather and exposure.  Mindful of Tim Noake’s book, “Waterlogged” I took the simple strategy of drinking to thirst, careful not to take in too much.  While I wasn’t peeing very often, I figured I was staying well balanced with my sweat losses, and didn’t overdo my intake.  Between Sessions, mile 28, and Swallow Rocks, mile 35, I ran out of water.  This seemed like a bad day to miscalculate the amount of water in the pack between aid stations.  I dropped off the pace even more.  

The Swallow Rocks aid station was run by the Cottonwood Canyon Foundation. Last year’s Wasatch 100 runner up, Cottonwood Canyon Foundation Outreach Coordinator, and former soccer star, George Grygar, was there with plenty of ice and encouragement.   George noticed my “soccer legs”. Thinking of George, I responded that former soccer players make the best trail runners, which for the last 25 miles of Wasatch I think is true. 

Worried about making the mistake of running out of water again, I left with nearly 2 L of water in my reservoir to run just 4.5 miles to Big Mountain. I very nearly finished it before rolling into the Big Mountain aid station where Jessica, Astrid and Mats met me. It had been a stressful morning for them with a dead car battery adding to the urgency of getting to the aid station on time.  Even so, they focused on the task of getting me in and out.  In 3 minutes I had everything I would need to survive the oven that I was about to run through.  

My strategy, if you can call it that, was to go slow and use a bottle of ice water on my head along the hot exposed ridges.  It was fantastic... while it lasted.  Somewhere along the ridge I saw the “Wizard of the Wasatch,” Bob Athey, who snapped the photo below.  (If you haven’t looked at his website wowasatch.com, do.  Bob captures the big and small beauty of the Wasatch mountains in his photographs.)

Photo by Robert Athey

Somewhere on the way to Alexander Ridge I was passed by a runner (Andy Johnson) who apparently was using my previous year’s splits as a guide.  His voice was strong as was his pace.  My response was thready and weak as was my pace. While I was flattered, it did little to boost my energy level as we climbed up hill.  He and Damian Stoy quickly left me in the dust.  My legs were starting to feel the miles, and I was wary of going any faster in the heat.  Mick Jurynec was resting off to side of the trail in some shade; he would later drop out.  In retrospect I feel quite bad that I didn’t stop, though I was not in any shape to be of help anyone else. 

By Alexander Ridge, mile 47, my quadriceps were feeling the effects of the downhill running.  The uncertainty of whether my legs would recover and being behind my anticipated splits was a stress, though I knew that I only had a few more miles in the heat before the temperature would drop to something more comfortable in the shade of Lambs Canyon.  On the last little climb before the descent to Lambs, Jared Campbell passed me with arm warmers on.  Jared is an inventive guy, and had stuffed them with ice to aid his cooling.  I wished to be as clever.  As he went by he commented that he was just trying to survive until Lambs Canyon.  Weren’t we all.  

Lambs Canyon came quickly enough, though the ability to see the aid station from a few miles away is always mentally challenging. At the aid station I weighed in a few (7) pounds down.  No big surprise.  Jessica, Astrid and Mats again surrounded me like a focused pit crew with a cold wet towel, watermelon, and supplies to get back on the road. Robert Mueller passed by and gave me a fist bump on his way out and encouraged me to catch him.   He spent 20 minutes in the aid station drinking fluids as his weight was down (7 or 8 pounds).   Interestingly, my weight was down a similar amount, but I was not held to hydrate, which I suspect would have hurt me more than help.  I caught up to Robert on the road going up Lambs.  His legs were great.  Mine were not.  My stomach was great, his was not.  I have to think that a fast intake of water, even an electrolyte solution when your body is trying to hold onto water, just leads to fluid retention and hyponatremia.  

In any case, Robert and I hiked together from Lambs to Millcreek.  We were frightened several times by cyclists flying down the Millcreek road. Once we hit the trail most all of the mountain bikers were exceptionally courteous in their passing, which I took as an indication of how beat at least I looked.  When we got to Dog Lake Robert offered me 10 dollars to have a drink from the lake.  At the time if I had the legs to move down to the lake and back up, he would’ve been 10 dollars poorer.  At the time I had nothing extra. My legs were heavy and plodding even on the descent to Blunder Fork.  As we climbed to Desolation Lake from Blunder Fork, I fell off the pace a few times, but kept Robert close.  I got to Red Lover’s Ridge at twilight a minute behind Robert, but was about to experience something of a rebirth.  There was a light rain, a slight chill, some downhill, and my quads were all of a sudden downright peppy.  Suddenly I was calculating how fast I would need to run to get to Brighton before 10 PM.  A sub 24-hour finish was starting to look possible again.  With this in mind I set off.  50 minutes from Desolation Lake to Scott’s Pass.  45 minutes from Scott’s to Brighton.  

John Pieper escorted me into the Brighton Lodge where Jessica, Astrid and Mats had just arrived to prep me for the last 25 miles.  Mats knew the moment we looked at each other that I was feeling good and was going to race hard to the finish.  Piep did the unenviable task of helping me change my socks and shoes.  The Hoka Bondi B’s were perfect for the first 75 miles.   A fresh pair of Drymax socks and a pair of Hoka Evo’s for the last 25 miles seemed downright luxurious.  It was the first time all day that I got to see my painted toenails (“My Own Private Jet” was the color applied, thanks to Sarah Polster).  Jay promised that I would be at least 20 minutes faster with painted toenails.  I figured that I could run the last 25 miles in 6 hours, which would get me close to last year’s time.  The 20 minute bonus from the toenails would help me set a personal best, though more than the toenails, I was carried out of the Brighton Lodge with the most amazing feeling as a parent and husband of having been sent off by my wife and two kids with their complete confidence and pride.  Now, I just had to get to Soldier Hollow on my own.  

The climb to Catherine’s Pass seemed altogether short.  Everything was holding together.  I was able to run short sections  of the uphill. While I didn’t know it at the time I was starting to close in on Mike Mason, Erik Storheim, and Jared Campbell.  Erik left Brighton 27 minutes ahead.  By Ant Knolls (mile 80) his lead was only 16 minutes.  The Ant Knolls aid station volunteers encouraged me to chase Mike and Jared.  In truth I wasn’t interested in chasing anyone, I just wanted to better my own time, though from years past I knew that if I was close to anyone before Rock Springs, I would catch them in the Dive or the Plunge.  

At Pole Line Pass (mile 83), I caught Mike Mason.  We left the aid station together, though I quickly left him and his pacer, so I could again run alone with the songs I had listened to earlier in the day still playing in my head.  My trance of trail dance was interrupted when I caught up to my dear friend and dentist, Erik.  I joked that I was so relieved to finally catch him after chasing him all day, as I had something caught in my tooth.  Erik’s stomach was like many others on the trail, in a state of mild revolt.  I figured as much, as there are only few things that can slow a guy like Erik.  This summer, I have been with him for a dislocated finger (which I reduced on the side of the trail), countless sprained ankles including a severe snapping injury with 9 miles of technical downhill running to go on our 85 mile Uinta excursion, and a damn good case of the “runs” all of which were minor issues that he powers through.  Erik and I stayed together to Point of Contention where I decided it was again time to run.  

The last nightlight that I would catch belonged to Jared Campbell, who was also having stomach issues.  Jared was filling a bottle at Rock Springs.  While I said hello and wished him well, I wasn’t certain that he heard me go by.  While my legs certainly could feel the 87 odd miles that I had run, there was a certain odd pleasure running down the perfectly retched technical downhills known as the “Dive” and the “Plunge”.  This was where my soccer legs would come into play, dashing around imaginary opponents trying to knock me off my feet.  At times there isn’t a trail as much as a groove in the hill with a lip on either side that narrows and widens in a frustrating way so that you end up hopping and skipping from side to side scrambling in loose rocks and dust.  Given that I had lobbied hard to keep this section of trail as part of the race, I was going to enjoy every little last bit of it as it might be the last time this section is run as part of the Wasatch 100.  Before I knew it I hit the turn for my final descent into Pot Bottom (mile 92).  I ran the last mile more conservatively than usual, as I didn’t want to blow up and allow someone to catch me over the last 8 miles.  

The Pot Bottom aid station volunteers were in disbelief when I arrived, as there were 3 runners they expected to see before me.  “You must be having a good race,” the woman checking me in said.  There were thoughts in my head about what to say, but I politely offered a quick “thanks,” grabbed a few pretzels and water and was off, knowing that I might need the time to keep my 7 minute lead on Erik.  I would hold this 7 minutes until Staton Cut-off (mile 95).  From there I was cautious, knowing that I had a sub-24 hour finish in the bag and didn’t want to blow up on the road.  The ATV trail finally gave way to a perfectly graded dirt road that turns into a paved road.  While a road isn’t the most aesthetic way to finish a mountain race, it does afford the ability to see a long way in front and behind for runners to catch and elude.  Unfortunately, there was no one to catch as Rod Bien had finished 34 minutes before me in third place.  Erik or Jared could have been closing the gap however, so I still needed to run.  Erik has always talked about running on stealth mode as he is chasing, so I wasn’t entirely sure I would see his light coming  Once I hit the road, I decided not to give him a target to chase, and turned my light off.  

I arrived at the finish line 5 hours and 41 minutes after leaving Brighton, 22 hours and 35 minutes after leaving East Mountain Wilderness Park (12th start and finish, 5th Crimson Cheetah), into the arms of the best crew a guy could ever ask for.  Five minutes later I greeted Erik at the finish line.  Not long after Erik, Jared came running in.  After a few short finish line conversations we made our way back to the Homestead for a bath, a few hours of sleep, and a dip in the pool before heading back to Salt Lake for Mats’s soccer game.  (Despite the lack of sleep he set up 3 of the 4 goals in his team’s 4-0 win.  I couldn’t have been more proud.)

While a few people at the finish were surprised to see me as the fourth overall finisher despite my fourth the previous year, Jessica, Astrid, and Mats were not.  They had a tough day, with unexpected obstacles and had struggled to overcome them.  Jessica has been and continues to be my model of toughness and endurance for many years.  This year after a complex femur fracture requiring internal fixation with a titanium rod, she took one lortab after coming home and not even an ibuprofen ever after that.  That is toughness.  It is impossible feel sorry for ones self or to complain about a little muscle pain encountered on a long run after watching her walk the day after fracture.  Instead I concentrated on feeling every little bit of discomfort, owning it, feeling alive, glad to able to run at 3 in the morning, knowing that this was only a fraction of what she endured.   As finishers of a hundred mile race, we get many cheers and pats on the back, but there are tough folks all around us who conquer life’s ups and downs, traumas and obstacles and rarely if ever get a cheering section, finisher’s plaque or belt buckle for their efforts.  The Wasatch race is a reminder to me every year to make sure to appreciate the amazing things that people do and are capable of doing every day, and to appreciate their supporting crews that make all of these endeavors possible.  Rarely is there a race report that doesn’t end with thanks and acknowledgement of the support that each of us has received along the way.  Truly, I wouldn’t have been able to get to the starting line without the help of many people (Fred Riemer literally gets me to the starting line each year for which I am truly grateful, and inspires me to appreciate the stars that I am running under).  With no pacers, crew was more important than ever.  Jessica, my wife, has been my foundation.  My two children inspire me.  My father has been an active sounding board all summer, as I have prepared for the race.  My mother is the endurance athlete that got me going and gave me the example of pushing limits with careful grace.  My step-father taught me to work.  The MRC has been the best training partners and friends, and are the reason I continue to run.    

Erik and me at the awards ceremony, photo Brooke Storheim.

While I am certainly not a sponsored runner, I do receive some product support.  John Pieper and Gregory have been incredibly generous in their support of designing,  producing, and supplying me with the best running packs for ultra running on the market.  Gregory painstakingly worked with our group of no-names (though Jay is a 100 mile age group world record holder) to design running packs that are the cream of the crop.  John Evans with Petzl has continued to generously supply me with headlamps (Petzl Nao) which made it possible to hop and skip (without falling once) through tough technical sections like it was the middle of the day.

Finally, I am indebted to the race committee for listening to us about keeping the Rock Springs to Pot Bottom section of the course.  Wasatch wouldn’t be Wasatch running down a paved road.  Sure the Dive, Plunge, and Irv’s Torture Chamber are tough, but aren’t these races supposed to be tough?  You guys put on a spectacular race yet again, with probably the best aid stations that I have experienced in my 12 runnings of Wasatch, making it an honor and privilege to run your race.  Until next year...

Gear: 
Pack: Gregory Tempo 3
Poles:  Black Diamond Ultra Distance Z Poles (Lambs to the finish)
Shoes: Hoka Bondi B and Hoka Stinson Evo
Headlamp: Petzl Nao

Wasatch 100 Course Change Analysis

In case you haven't heard or you were in denial, it's true, the last 14 miles of the Wasatch 100 course has been changed for 2013. I didn't want to believe it at first because dealing with change seems to get harder the older I get. So I stayed in denial up until this week when I decided I better get to know the new course a little better.

The Wasatch 100 website states that the main reason behind changing the route is because the existing course crosses private land. My gut tells me there are multiple factors, but since I can't confirm them I will leave them out of this public forum.

Disclaimer: 

• I have not run the new route yet so this analysis is based strictly on elevation data and perception of running surfaces.
• I am only covering the changes from where the Rock Springs aid station used to be (approx. mile 87) to the new finish. There is also a change leaving Upper Big Water where the new course will take a more direct and slightly steeper route to Dog Lake. This is to make up for some of the length added by the new finish stretch.
• No one asked me to perform this analysis, I did it simply to gain an understanding of the new route.

For those of you in a hurry I present the Infographic:

Surface type shown for previous course on top, new course surface type shown on the bottom.

The shift in profiles is due to the shortened route from Upper Big Water to Dog Lake. Instead of Rock Springs being at mile ~87.5 it will be at mile ~87. By my measurement the new course is still long, even with the shortened section. The total I come up with is 100.8 miles.

The aerial perspective:

New course shown in RED, previous course in YELLOW. Download the KML

As you can see the new finish is at Soldier Hollow instead of the Homestead. The new course adds 3.5 miles of pavement and more dirt road. There is also less elevation gain and loss. Runners finishing after the sun comes up will likely experience higher traffic on the paved sections and some of the dirt roads. The long climb shown in the profile to the Station Cut-Off aid station is on a dirt road that looks similar to the dirt road leaving the old Pot Bottom aid station.

Even with the course being a little longer, which isn't that big of a deal, I think the new route will be 30 to 45 minutes faster than the previous course. Of course that is all relative to the condition you are in when you reach this point in the race. I'll go run the new route in the next couple of weeks and report back with my impression of it.

I for one will miss the torture chamber and even the Dive and the Plunge. But if one thing is constant in this world it is change. You can either embrace it or let the world move on without you.

Any thoughts on the changes? Have you run this new section? Let us know below.

Wasatch 100 2012 Race Report

It's been a long time since I've been wound so tight before a race. Barely sleeping each night, spending the days feeling tired but at the same time feeling like lighting bolts of energy could shoot out of my fingers at will. I know allot of this is normal before a big race but this was out of hand and I needed to settle down. So Wednesday before the race I did what every runner does when he feels stressed out, I went for a run. I ran up in the thin clean air of Alta, looping up through the Castle area beside Supreme lift. It was mystically quiet and some fresh flowers were out celebrating the recent rains that had poured out of the skies the last few nights. I saw a badger crossing the path and thought to myself “is this a good omen or bad? I 'd rather see a cheetah” My legs felt like somebody else's, fresh clean and full of energy as if they could propel me at 6 minutes miles at will. I headed up to Katherine's pass and contemplated how I would feel coming up from the opposite side with Jay on Friday night. I headed back down with hope and good feelings running through my head as if on drugs of many years long ago. I scooted around a moose as I passed the lift station of Sunny Side lift headed for the dirt road that would take me back to my car. As I ran down the road I thought “I 'll be fine, I'll get a good nights rest and be ready to rumble Friday morning” I turned the IPod up to drown out the response that came through my subconscious self as a whisper “your not sleeping if I can help it”

Miles 0-18
I'm on the starting line standing next to Peter, I don't feel good, I'm tired and am honestly kinda of dreading the day. I'm putting on a good face shaking hands wishing people good luck. The count down starts and were off. I shoot off like a rocket not really thinking about it, I'm surprised I got myself so far up in the field and the trail is actually not too dusty. The first miles blow by quickly and I can see Jason Berry up just ahead. Then all of a sudden Peter shoots by and the three of us find ourselves running together We head up the long climb toward chin scraper, Peter leads the way and Jason and I are happy to follow his lead. We run together until we hit the road at mile 11 just before the first water only aid. We leap frog back and forth after the water aid and come back together just before Francis Peak I'm actually feeling pretty good and just a few minutes of my pace chart.

 Mile 18-40
I leave with Peter but feel like running alone and soon start pushing the pace ever so slightly to get out ahead. I turn the Ipod up and just start cruising the road. I used to hate the dirt roads early on the course but have started to like them the last time I ran the race, thier easy and its nice to just turn the brain off and move easy. As I approached Sessions Lift Off aid station I felt my IT band start to tighten and contract. Next thing I know bam it fires and I crumple to a stop. Panic starts to set in, I'm thinking my race is done, I slowly start to hobble again thinking to myself to just keep moving and maybe you can figure this thing out. I actually make it to Sessions on my split. As I start the climb out of Sessions it fires a few more times and I stop at the pass and sit down and stretch. I am also getting large sticks from the side of the trail and try rolling the IT band with them. I pop some Ibuprofen and salt with a bunch of water and start moving again. It seems to be working, it hurts but I can move okay. I slowly catch up to a few runners and finally settle in with Chris Cawley. We chat quite a bit and run for the most part together into Big Mountain Aid Station which I reach exactly on pace at 12:45.

Miles 40-75
 Big Mountain Aid Station is great but I know to get out of there quickly, I weigh in and come in heavy which seems strange. I dunk water on myself as Marge gets me my Gregory Hydration pack. Roch fills my hat with ice and I take off with Kathleen. I tell her I'm in a good place but my knee is killing me and take another Ibuprofen. We got out slowly as I drink some coconut juice and take in calories. I'm thinking of all the people I saw back at the aid station feeling guilty for not taking more time to say hello but soon realize they understand and start to forget about. I know from our practice run that Kathleen takes about 20 minutes for her heart rate to go down so I go really slow to let her warm up. We talk a little, not to much, just enough to pass the time. We are moving slow but that was the plan. A few people pass us but I was prepared for that. We make it into Alexander exactly on time.
We make a quick 2 minute refuel and head out for the gas line climb eating watermelon. Its hot and we get passed again, one guy goes running by uphill all the while saying how hot is is. Kathleen and I come into Lambs Aid Station feeling good and on time. My next pacer is Shawn and we get out just behind Peter and catch him on the road. His pacer Scott Dickey gives me a ITB strap which seems to lesson the pain in my knee. We jump out ahead as we jump on to the single track for Bear Ass Pass.
I'm starting to feel tired and pound calories as we make the long climb up to the pass. I can hear Peter, Scott and Robert Mueller below as we near the summit. Shawn and I make steady and uneventful progress making it almost to Scott Pass Aid station before we have to turn on our lights while enjoying a wonderful sunset to the west. At the gate at Sleepy Hollow we pass somebody dressed in a marching band uniform. Jay joins us for a little bit on the Guardsman road to see how I am doing then takes off to Brighton to make sure I have a quick transition. Marge crews me in the parking lot then I head into the lodge for weigh in. Everything is a blur and the lodge seems like some foreign planet. I see lots a friendly faces but I just want to get back on the trail and get moving again. For the first time I'm feeling beat and tired and want to get the race over with. We leave at 9:26

Miles 75 to 100.
 Jay is a breath of fresh air and energy. I can tell he really wants me to do well and 10 minutes out of Brighton he is already asking me if I can run a few flat spots. I say no to the first request. After the dam Jay gets in front of me and starts running some of the flatter spots going around the lake. I follow and start running when he does, this seems to be working and we do this all the way to Katherine's Pass. At the pass Jay's instruct me to starting drinking a bottle with Coke and water in it saying it needs to be done buy the time we reach the high point of the course and the start of the plunge down into Ant Knolls. I do it and can feel some energy coming back. We pass four racers on the decent, some slowing down because they think they are off course. We tell them their good but they don't seem to believe us. We keep moving, blowing through Ant Knolls and heading up the Grunt. I am moving pretty good, the knee really hurts but so does everything else.
Before Pole Line Aid Station I do a lot of drunken sailor running, weaving on and off the trail. Nothing much happens all the way to Rock Springs, there is a runner close behind but does not seem to be gaining. The moon is out and its beautiful. The Dive is terrible, the Plunge is terrible, the wheels are starting to come off. Lots of heavy breathing, short 2 second stops with hands on knees trying to hold it together. My stomach is starting to cramp and I don't feel good. Jay can sense I'm slowing and is doing everything to keep my moving, and finally I throw up. I get it over with and move on making my way slowly down to Pot Bottom. At the aid station Jared Campbell joins us as well as Peter with Christian who is his pacer. Peter gives me a hug and we leave together for the last 7 miles.
Peter is stronger and pulls away quickly, I regress back to my old 100 mile habits and just move steady but slow. Jay is out in front by a few feet leading the way acting as my sail trying to pull me up the hill. We start the decent, I almost loose me stomach again but manage to keep from gagging, not sure what would come up at this point anyway. I weave down the road trying to just keep moving and finally hit the single track trail leading to the final 1 mile road sections to the finish. Jay is talking about lights approaching and if I want to race but at this point I really not listing. It's turns out to be Jared and he ask if he could joins us to the finish. I was honored and humbled and of course said yes. We run in together and finish in a time of 23:07. I am ecstatic to be under 24 hours but I am too tired to show much emotion or give it much thought.

As is always the case I could not have had such a great race without all the help and support of allot of people. But I especially want to thank my pacers Jay, Kathleen, Shawn and of course my wife Marge who did another faultless job of crewing me for the entire race. The race organization and volunteers were excellent as always. Of course there is the race itself which continues to resonate in my heart and haunts my soul, it truly is a trail of Heaven and Hell.

Wasatch Blues

I drove past Sugarhouse Park today around 4 pm.  I felt like I was driving by the house of the girl I had a crush on in High School.  I slowed down, stared longingly at the scene of excitement in progress, then resignedly kept driving, forcing my eyes back to the road and accepting the lump in my chest that I recognized as heartache.

Wasatch has shaped my life and influenced me far more than I thought was possible since my first fling back in 2005.  I ran my first Wasatch thinking it would be a grand adventure to be crossed off the list, and then I could get back to my current passions of the time-bowhunting, fishing and Rugby.  Instead, those have all taken a back seat and regardless of the other races and adventures I have mapped out for the year, my predominant daydream seems to revolve around that magical weekend following Labor Day.

The pre-dawn excitement, beauty of first sunlight over Chinscraper,  popsicles at Swallow Rocks.  The surprising surge of emotion and tears as I hear the first hint of cow bells coming into Big Mountain, never mind that it's only been 10 hours since I gave Brooke a sleepy good bye kiss as I slipped out the door-late as usual-to meet my ride.  Reminiscing about the big bull elk I bugled in the last time I  bowhunted Alexander Ridge. An ice cold towel on the neck at Lambs, cooling off on the beautiful climb to Bear Ass Pass, stopping to look at the trout under that one bridge up Millcreek, getting teary again at the AWESOME posters of my kids that Brooke puts on the Millcreek road. Sunsets on Red lovers Ridge, pacers gently (sometimes forcefully) reminding me to eat, drink and do it again. Projectile vomiting whole grain PB&J at Scott's Pass, sleep running the road down Guardsman's, in and out of Brighton-assisted by an awesome crew- as quick as possible to stay out of the "Morgue".  Inspired by some good tunes and turning down a Corona with good friend and savior of my first Wasatch, Preston, while he hangs out at the "Beach" below Sunset Peak.  Getting my 5th wind heading to Ant Knolls, the excitement of lights in front of  me and getting closer while circumnavigating Forest Lake, the dread of seeing lights behind me and getting closer at the same time, and then the last "big" climb to the Point of Contention. Lukewarm "hot" chocolate at Rock Springs, dust in the headlamp = blind running down The Plunge, Irv's Torture Chamber-need I say more?  Pot Bottom and "3 runner's left here in the last 5 minutes, get out of here!!". The never-ending rocky road, sharp left hand turn onto the sweet last mile of single track, pacer yelling"I told you we'd catch someone on the road, now it's time to sprint!".  10 minute mile sprint, onto the grass, out of gas and collapse.  Elation, exhaustion, hugs, back slaps, rush to the garbage can to puke and then...... Contentment.

I won't be feeling those emotions first-hand this year, but the sweet memories are enough to get me through the Wasatch Blues.

To Greg, Peter, Rich, Brian, Brian, Ben, Jared, Pete, Seth, Bob, Mark, Jason, Sarah, Derek, Ken, David, Wayne, Troy, Jim, Ernie, Tony, and everyone else. Thanks, and good running.

Wasatch 100 - 2011 Race Report - Christian

I've been thinking about this post for quite a while now and how I wanted to characterize my race. I suppose it has taken this long because up until a few days ago I still didn't know how I felt about it. Then I remembered a conversation I had with my mother back in '05 before the biggest road cycling race of my life, Elite Nationals.

Elite Nats is reserved for the top amateur cyclists in the country, Category 1 racers. Normally Cat 1's race with Pro's and Cat 2's for the majority of races throughout the year, but once a year the top amateurs get their chance to race for the stars and bars (National Championship jersey). If the winner is young enough (early 20's) they will often score a pro contract. I had no illusions of winning or scoring a pro contract but I did want to get a top placing, perhaps even a top 10. A few days before the race I was telling my mom about it and some of the concerns I had. Mainly the competition and the distance of the course. At 125 miles it was about 30 to 40 miles longer than we would normally race and when I told her this she tried to calm my nerves by telling me that she "was sure I could finish". I just sat there speechless for a few seconds. She clearly didn't understand. All the years I had spent preparing for this race was not to simply see if I could finish, I already knew that was possible. I wanted more. I wanted a great result.

That's me on the front of a breakaway mid-race, 2005 Elite Nats

Elite Nationals was probably one of the toughest one day races I ever took part in (including LotoJa) and I gave it everything to get a good result, including getting into a breakaway. In the end I finished anonymously in 65th several minutes down, but satisfied with my effort.

What does this have to do with Wasatch? Well, I'm at the point where I know I can finish and now I want more. The trouble with this kind of mentality and 100 milers is that if you "go for it" and blow up trying you can jeopardize a finish. If you don't finish, you risk not getting into the next edition now that we're in the era of lotteries for the best races (assuming one does not have "X" amount of finishes to guarantee entry). The bottom line is that suffering is not optional even on a good day, blow up in the middle of the race and you will not only be suffering, you will be spending a great deal of time deep inside the pain cave. A place I have become all too familiar with lately. So that's the way I decided to approach Wasatch this year, go for it or blow up trying.

I took off from the start at a pretty good pace wanting to stay out of the dust storm on the early part of the course. I settled in somewhere in the back half of the top ten. I could see all the guys vying for the win in front of me, including Storheim when I started the real climbing. Upon reaching Chinscraper I saw my friend Erich Peitzsch and Troy Howard coming up from behind. We enjoyed a few easy miles along the ridge together before Troy took off on the long dirt road before Francis Peak. I reached the aid station in a little over 3.5 hours slightly ahead of schedule but feeling great. Besides stopping for a bio break a short time after leaving Francis Peak I felt great all the way to Sessions at mile 28. I had been eating clif bloks and GU chomps making a conscious effort to stay away from gels for at least the first half of the race. At Sessions my stomach felt a little tight so I just backed off a bit and saw Greg a little bit behind me.

Shortly before Swallow Rocks at mile 35 Greg caught me and told me about the knee trouble Peter was having. It sounded like an IT band issue and I was genuinely concerned. Then we rolled into Swallow Rocks and found Erik in a chair. Greg and I dragged him out of the chair with a popsicle in hand as we made our way to Big Mountain. I was concerned for my friends and in retrospect I probably lost a little focus on my race through this section.

At Big Mountain with Betsy

The trail from Big Mountain to Lambs canyon has always been my achilles heel in past Wasatch 100's and I ended up giving the section a lot of thought as I drew closer. Greg, Erik and myself all hit Big Mountain at mile 39 within seconds of each other. Betsy had everything ready for me but I still took my time making sure everything was perfect for the section from hell. Greg got out a minute ahead of Erik and I, which was probably a good thing as I took it slow with Erik and his pacer. He needed some time to put his stomach together and I needed to keep a lid on it while traversing the hot, exposed ridge line. I kept sight of Greg in front and eventually I saw Peter catching up to us which was a welcome relief. As Peter and Scott Dickey (his pacer) caught up to me I just latched on and kept going. I was so stoked to have made it across the ridge I was already celebrating even though I had several miles until I reached Alexander Aid Station at mile 47.

Peter turned on the jets on the last little descent to the aid station and I just cruised it in. I was so happy I raised my arms above my head and threw my water bottles on the ground proclaiming victory. The aid station staff looked at me kind of funny then one of them said "this isn't the finish". "Yes, yes, I know" I replied, "but you have no idea how great it feels to complete that section without feeling like I want to die". "Still a long way to go" one of them said as they filled my bottles and watched Peter run down the trail. "Thanks, I know it all too well" and off I went.

Slowly things started to unravel as I climbed the pipeline right of way just a couple miles out of the aid station. The effort required to move forward became harder and harder, my legs suddenly felt like I was at mile 75 not mile 50. The realization of what was in front of me crystallized in my mind and the black hole of the cave opened in front of me. I begrudgingly stepped inside and accepted my fate.

The railroad grade down to the Lambs Canyon aid station felt incredibly slow no matter how hard I tried to quicken my pace. Upon reaching the aid station I spent 20 minutes trying to put things back together. Between Betsy and my friend Drew (Erik's next pacer) they did their best to get my overheated body cooled down and I did my best to put on a brave face.

Lambs Canyon aid station. (Photo: Brooke Storheim) 

I left Lambs feeling a bit better than when I arrived but I was not completely convinced things were going to get better anytime soon. Soon after hitting the trail up to Bear Ass pass I lost my stomach when I tried to eat a gel. Just at that same moment Erik and Drew caught up to me. They both encouraged me to stick with it and that I would feel better soon, but I knew inside that even if my stomach came around my legs were shot.  This became even more apparent on the descent into Millcreek where I had trouble coaxing anything more than a stumble out of my legs.

Once I hit the road in Millcreek I grew ornery and on the climb up I decided I would stop at Big Water. Before reaching the aid station Betsy crewed me at the lower parking lot where I had the full attention of everyone else's crew and pacers including Marge, Jessica, Brooke, Drew and John McGuire. I announced I was done, but it was as if no one heard me. Betsy simply put some miso soup in my hand before getting my nighttime supplies out. "Just go to the next aid station" she said. "That's just a trick, I really need to go 3 more aid stations since I can't drop at Deso or Scott's" I snapped back. "Then it's settled, I'll see you at Brighton".

Sitting at Big Water. No wonder they won't let me drop, I don't look nearly as awful as I feel.

After getting geared up and popping a blister on one of my toes I hit the trail once again. The legs were still unresponsive but on the bright side I had a big climb ahead of me to get them back in shape. Shortly before reaching Dog Lake I switched on my headlamp and just as I could see the lake another runner was coming back toward me. He was quite flustered and saying something about a couple of moose on the trail. I continued down the trail and saw the glowing eyes looking back at us. "Didn't you hear me? Those are moose" he said. "They'll move" I replied as I kept moving toward them. I was secretly hoping I might get kicked so I would have a real excuse to drop, but they moved just as I had predicted. Damn.

The Desolation Lake aid at mile 67 was a welcome sight where I sat down with a cup of soup for 15 minutes. I was sitting there being angry with myself when a teenage boy working the aid station sat down next to me. "Man I wish I could do this race" he told me. "Really? Why?" I asked. "Well I run cross-country for my high school, but I really like the trails so much more and I think it would such an awesome experience". As crummy as I was feeling I just smiled back and told him he was right, then gave him a little advice, "Just do me a favor and wait until you're a few years older and have some experience before attempting this one". "Sure thing. Keep up the great effort, you're doing great" he told me. That statement humbled me a bit as I thanked him and checked out of the aid station.

The conversation I had with the teenager got me thinking about a lot of things, including the cross-country team I was helping coach at West High. They all knew I was taking part in the race, in fact I was meeting them at Soldier Hollow immediately following the race at 8:30 am for a scheduled meet. What would I tell them if I didn't finish? What kind of example would I be if I dropped out? And that's when I made up my mind to walk, shuffle, stumble or whatever it would take to get to the finish.

The rest of the race was a practice in patience. I picked up my friend Jon Schofield at Brighton for company over the last 25 miles but warned him it was going to be a long night since the legs were now hollow. No matter he said, let's get after it. Over the next 8 hours or so I had the pleasure of sharing the trail with many of my friends and realizing why the Wasatch 100 is such a special race. I drew inspiration from "Uncle" Dave Hunt, Carter Williams, Sarah Evans, Jason Berry and Brian Kamm all dealing with their own issues, but never once talking about quitting. Who was I to quit because my legs were empty and the race wasn't going as planned?

Once the finish line came into view a smile came to my face and the pain faded. I missed all the goals I set beforehand except for one. Finish. It really wasn't a goal I set for the race because it is just expected at this point, but that didn't take anything away from the satisfaction of crossing that line and embracing my friends and family after the journey. That felt good and it still does. 27th place in 26:54.
Thanks to a great organization, volunteers, and the best friends anyone could ask for motivating me and special thanks to my best friend and wife Betsy for kicking me out of the chair and down the trail. I'll be back and I'll have goals...

Jon (my friend and pacer) at the finish.

Betsy and I at the finish

Wasatch Pedicure

The long anticipated presentation of the Wasatch Pedicure has finally been posted on YouTube. I feel some sort of Indie short film award coming my way. If you've never heard of Ignite Salt Lake, you should check out the next event which will be sometime in August. It's a completely random blend of people speaking on any subject you can think of. If you want to do a presentation of your own, you can submit an idea to Jesse once they finalize the date. If you don't live in Salt lake, odds are your city has an Ignite event as well. Enjoy, and please don't judge my public presentation abilities........

Wasatch 2010 by Peter

This was my ninth start of the Wasatch 100. Over the last 5 years I have had the goal of finishing and beating my previous time.

2005: 29:28, 54th,

2006: 27:40, 29th,

2007: 26:09, 14th,

2008: 25:15, 13th,

2009: 23:36, 15th,

2010: 23:05, 9th,

Incidentally my first 3 races I ran in 31:32, 32:35, and 28:52.

There is an advantage to competing with your last year's self. It is easy to get in the mind of your competitor, and you know exactly what you need to do to beat him. This year I had my work cut out for me. In 2009, I was intent on a sub 24 hour finish, and had focus and urgency to complete that goal. This year was complicated by injury, travel, coaching soccer, and a very busy work schedule.

As is tradition Fred Riemer drove me to the start with Kevin Shilling, though breaking with tradition “The Rocket” (Errol Jones) was not along. The start was chilly and the trail was damp with precipitation from the night. Dave Hunt pointed out several large puddles after the starting line to avoid in the mad initial dash. A wet foot at the start would be unpleasant. While there were few clouds above us to obscure the stars the mountains were capped in clouds. There was guarded optimism for good weather in how the runners were dressed. This was the start of my ambivalence, just not knowing what the best strategy would be. I started with a wind shirt, but needed to shed it not long after the start.

I was relieved to finally start running after much preparation and anticipation. As we started the climb there were some white patches on the ground in spots. In the dark it took me a minute to realize that it was snow. While there was never much, parts of the trail were frosted in a layer of fresh snow. About half way to Chin Scraper, I settled in behind David Larsen. We had a nice conversation and caught a couple of runners including Glen Merrill and Darcy Africa, but by Grobben’s Corner I knew that his pace was a faster than I cared for. Darcy Africa caught us around this point as well. Dave and Darcy continued on as I eased back, thinking about the long day ahead. I didn’t expect to see either of them until the Homestead.

The views heading into Francis Peak were spectacular. The clouds were beginning to clear; the sun was shooting beams of light making small parts of the valleys glow. Glen Merrill caught up to me around Francis Peak. I expressed my concern and hope that the day would stay cool. Glen assured me that the temperatures would remain cool, and added he was a weather man. That statement of absolute confidence in the conditions buoyed my hopes of a good day. Glen and I would see each other off and on until Lambs Canyon, and then not again until late in the night. I was lucky to get to run behind Glen and watch his efficient gait. This was his first 100 miler, but he looked like someone who knew exactly what he was doing, and I knew he would have a very strong race.

Between Francis Peak and Big Mountain aid station I kept my times fairly close to last year's splits. My legs felt good, though I occasionally got a hint of pain in my right calf. The thought of a residual injury from last Spring interfering and possibly ending the run was unsettling. Fortunately, it was’t the tip of the iceberg, but the typical noise of discomfort that is bound to occur in an ultra. Nonetheless, I wasn’t confident about anything, even though the miles were passing by with few troubles.

At Big Mountain, my weight was even. Jessica, Astrid, and Mats were there to meet me. I turned off the music, saying goodbye to Mumford and Sons, K’naan, the Clash, Jose Gonzalez, and Gomez. In two minutes I changed from carrying two bottles to a Nathan hydration pack, ate a few ginger snaps, said goodbye to my stellar crew and hit the trail with Chuck Konopa. I was going to go without a pacer from Big Mountain to Brighton, but two days before the race Chuck called my office and asked if I needed a pacer. Chuck entertained me pointing out all of the backcountry skiing spots, and was invaluable doing the math along the way calculating differences in splits and times we needed to make. It is amazing how quickly simple math skills go while running, so having an engineer-math whiz running by my side was wonderful. The temperatures along Alexander Ridge were about as favorable on a race day as I have experienced. The 70 ounces in my Nathan Pack was more than I needed for the entire section, but I was happy be ahead on fluid intake.

Before coming into Lambs Canyon Rich McDonald caught up me. We ran into the aid station together, which was nice because we had twice the cheers from our combined families. Rich was in and out of the aid station in a flash. After weighing in and being efficiently taken care of by my wife and two kids, I sat down for the first time and had a leisurely (six minutes) meal of pita bread and baba ganooj from Mazza’s. This was my attempt to get away from the sweet crap that is consumed all day long. I have never eaten baba ganooj on a trail run let alone during a race, but a few days before I thought that it sounded good. It should also be known that I have a history of losing my stomach contents after Lambs Canyon. Last year while I didn’t throw-up, I had to sit on top of bare-ass pass for a ten minutes to regain my composure. This year as I headed up the road, feeling good, I was cautious to keep my pace slow enough to allow at least a little digestion. Phil Lowry ran past me up the road, and Aaron Spurlock “hiked” past me about half way up the Lamb’s climb. When Aaron and his pacer approached us, we asked if he wanted to pass. “No you are fine, “ was the response. I pulled off the trail and he was gone in no time (walking). My dinner was still settling and I wasn’t about to challenge the logic of the stomach.

At the peak Chuck and I decided to run. In not too much time we caught Rich. By the road at Elbow Fork we had closed the gap with Aaron. This would be the story of the remainder of the race, slower climbs and fast downhill running.

At the Millcreek aid station Alan Watson, Jessica, Astrid and Mats greeted us. The headlamp came out, I changed socks and put on a long sleeved shirt. Again I stocked up on gingersnaps, and took a few more gels and some gum drops. While we were not fast in this section, we kept a respectable pace and stayed well ahead of the 39 year-old from 2009 that I was racing against. Phil and his son caught us at the Desolation Lake aid station. He quickly transitioned out of the aid station. I was interested in drinking a little broth and wanted to contemplate the climb. We caught Phil shortly before Red Lover’s Ridge, which was just around the point that I needed to turn on my headlamp. The ridge to Scott’s Pass is mostly runnable, and we shuffled along. From Scott’s Pass to Brighton is almost entirely runnable. Fred was waiting in his car at the Guardsman road. Once we arrived he drove down to get things ready at the lodge.

As we came up the road, Jay, Marge and Greg met us. Jay had on a shoulder immobilizer from his surgery just days before but looked to be in decent spirits. I was happy to see Jay, but would have preferred that he was in his Armani shirt at the front of the pack. Jay gave me the encouraging words that stuck in my head the rest of the night, “You are a fast finisher on the last part of the course.” With that Greg and I headed into the Brighton Lodge and made a fast transition with the aid of Fred and Alan. We spent 6 minutes in the lodge and were off into the cold night air.

Greg and I climbed to Catherine’s Pass and then Sunset Peak without any drama. I was tired though, and I wasn’t feeling “fast”. I could tell that I was losing time to my pace last year, and wondered if I was going to keep fading. The long decent to Ant Knolls was as usual, difficult. Greg tried to encourage me that he was going to try to float down the hills like I do. I started to try to roll through the rocks and keep some speed. Sure enough with a little encouragement and some faster turn over the blood was flowing to muscles happy to get some use and I was floating. “The Grunt” burst my bubble. I was no longer floating, but struggling to climb up the steep rutted trail.

While I lost some time into Ant Knolls and then to Pole Line, I was fueling well on gum drops and was adequately hydrated. As Greg and I climbed toward Point of Contention we could see some headlamps in the distance. I ran this section last year alone without seeing a single soul until the finish. Still I didn’t think that I would catch anyone, but as we got to Rock Springs with plenty of water and food we skipped the aid station and started to run for the dive and the plunge. We first encountered Erik and his pacer Ken Jensen. Greg and I were shocked to see Erik, but we were moving well and a long conversation was not in order. We motored down the deep dust towards the next challenge. At the bottom of the “Dive” I started my count of the seven climbs in “Irv’s Torture Chamber”. We caught Glen somewhere in here as well as Darcy, and finally Dave Larsen. The downhill running was fun and I genuinely was enjoying myself.

We hit Pot Bottom just before Dave Larsen. He transitioned quickly, while I downed a few noodles and broth which were heavenly. Near the top of the climb from Pot Bottom we caught Dave and walked with him until the the downhill. Greg and I paused to once more empty our bladders before the downhill. We quickly closed the distance on Dave and added a few minutes of cushion to a top 10 finish. To our surprise there was one more runner to catch and add some darkness between us for a ninth place finish. The switch backs at the bottom of the decent were the last challenge, but by now I could smell the barn. Just as I was feeling invincible I caught my toe on a root and ate some dirt. Greg and I quickly finished the twisty trail and then cruised the road and ran into the finish. Our time from Brighton was a respectable 6 hours and 11 minutes. Jessica, Astrid and Mats were waiting for us in sleeping bags at 4:05 AM on a cold morning. John Grobben gave me a handshake and a huge hug at the finish line. After a warm shower at the Homestead, I settled back into a sleeping bag to rest and cheer and watch the finishers come in. Amazingly Grobben was there to meet the finishers over the next 12 hours. (That is endurance).

Wasatch is a great event because of the people associated with the race, and I have been lucky to get to know many of the folks who run and support the race. I am blessed to run with the best group of guys (Christian, Greg, Jay, Erik, Rich, and Kevin). My family continues to be an integral supportive team before, during, and after the race. I couldn’t run it without them. Alan and Fred were invaluable crew at Brighton (6 minutes of pure efficiency). Of course many thanks to the race committee and all the volunteers for making this the day that I look forward to all year long.

PS

I have to mention the shoes. The Hokas kept my feet pretty happy all day. I posted my fastest time through Irv’s Torture Chamber--1 hour 17 minutes--5 minutes faster than Karl’s 2009 time. I was flying downhill, but I think it was more the gum drops that I was eating and having Greg pushing me than the shoes. The soft EVA foam of the Hokas did not survive the 100 mile race. The right shoe collapsed on the medial aspect. I hope Hoka takes returns, because I only got 130 miles out of this pair of shoes.

Wasatch 100 2010 - Course Preview Pt. 2 and a New Loop on Sunday

Last Saturday (8/7/2010) I ran with Greg and Peter from Big Mountain (mi. 39) to Lamb's Canyon (mi. 53).  We actually start this route down at the first switchback in East Canyon since it adds a couple of miles and little more vertical.  Plus it's a shorter car shuttle when we're done.  What I thought was even better was the run we did on Sunday (described a little lower).
I'm happy to report there's very little to be worried about on this section when it comes to the trail.  The ridge is still rocky and exposed, Ball Bearing Hill is still slippery and the remaining ridge to Alexander (mi. 47.5) is a little overgrown in sections as usual.

Heading along the pipeline into the "oven" felt especially hot and I can only hope that it's much cooler for everyone on race day.  Finally after topping out on Roger's Saddle, Peter turned up the pace all the way Lamb's and had us running a lot faster than I had planned, but it was all good.  I also took notice that crossing the last little stretch was much easier this time around since somebody cleaned up the downed trees, thanks Jay!


The real gem of the weekend was the run we did on Sunday (8/8/2010). None of us had ever run Silver Fork Canyon so we came up with a route that would take us from Brighton up to Twin Lake Pass, down Silver Fork, back up Days Fork, over to Twin Lakes Pass then back down to Brighton. Sounds easy enough right? Greg and Peter thought so as well so we made a plan to meet up with Matt Hart to put it all together. I’ve decided to go with a heavy picture post (more here) this time with captions.

Sunday's route

Peter was gracious enough to let me try his Hoka’s for the day and I’m not sure it warrants a separate post, but I can confidently say I’ve never run downhill faster when I really turned it on.

Me with Clown err, Hoka's on

I tore down the descent off Twin Lakes with Peter hot on my heels and when we reached the turn to Silver Fork we were both breathing so hard we couldn’t talk. I have two complaints about them though, 1) I nearly rolled my ankle a number of times when landing on my fore to mid foot and 2) the upper isn’t quite right yet, at least for my foot. The top two eyelets had to be pulled so closely together to secure my foot that by the time we were at the end of the run the top of my foot was slightly bruised from the plastic digging in. Enough Hoka talk and back to the run.

Matt at Twin Lake Pass

Peter and Greg on our way over to Silver Fork Canyon

Once we reached the Pass over to Silver Fork we decided to go check out the Prince of Wales Mine constructed in 1872. Definitely worth checking out and it’s only a ½ mile or so off the trail. This little diversion got us off trail a bit and we ended up just running straight down to find the main trail again in Silver Fork.

Prince of Wales Mine in the middle of the picture

Greg inspecting the boiler at Prince of Wales Mine

L-R, Peter, Matt, Greg at Prince of Wales Mine, I'm looking west taking the picture

The Silver Fork trail is very much like Days Fork, steep in parts and very runnable for the most part. We reached the bottom near some cabins and after asking directions to avoid the pavement we ran down a dirt road then a trail for a couple miles. It’s worth noting that there is a connector in Day’s Fork that looks like it comes from Silver Fork, however we were unable to locate it and ran the last stretch of pavement down to the Spruces Campground where we filled up with water.

Matt running in Silver Fork

Greg on the steep stuff in Silver Fork

The long climb up Days Fork got pretty hot, but we still kept a good pace all the way back up to the ridge and the divider between Silver and Days. Up on Emmas Ridge I re-discovered some of the steep climbs leading back toward Twin Lake Pass. I don’t know why, but I always seemed surprised when I literally run into them.

Bottom of Days Fork heating up

Matt near the top of Silver Fork

Looking down into Little Cottonwood from Emma's ridge

One of the steep climbs on our way back to Twin Lake Pass

The distance ended up at around 18 miles with 4,900’ vertical and we finished in about 4 hours even, including the extra time at the mine. Good times indeed.