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

Pocatello 50 Mile Race Report (Christian)

There were many other titles I had in mind for this post such as "The good times are killing me" or "When you find yourself in hole - stop digging" and my favorite, "I can't fight this feeling anymore", but I decided to keep it simple for future reference and use these for the section titles instead.

Part I - The good times are killing me...

Arriving at the start I was really excited to start the race. My fitness level was higher than it had been the year before and I was confident I would have a good day. The added bonus was that it was the first time all five of MRC'rs would be in the same race together.

L-R, Jay, Christian, Peter, Greg (Erik was taking care of business) Photo: Darcie Gorman

Greg, Peter and Jay with the rainbow in the background.  Photo: Darcie Gorman 

As RD's Jared Campbell and Ryan McDermott sent us on our way there was a bit of thunder clap from a small storm passing by. I secretly wished for some rain to cool things down since it was already feeling quite warm. The mood felt quite serious up in the front group but no one was willing to really take charge and set the pace. Jay finally took the lead on to the singletrack and set a comfortable pace on first climb of the day. Within a couple miles the group was down to seven; Meltzer, Jay, Justin Yates, Matt Hart, Andy Dorais, myself and a guy from out of town named Craig.
The early miles felt very easy and struck up a conversation with Andy before we hit the first aid station. The group was still mostly together as we started the ridge climb with the exception of Justin who pulled out a slight lead. Once I hit the steep part of the climb I felt great and just tapped out a nice cadence that moved me up through the group. Near the top I felt an extremely sharp pain on my left foot and immediately thought I had been bit by snake. Turns out it was a cactus I had brushed by and the needles were sticking out of the shoe. I stopped to pull the needles out while cursing under my breath and then took off to catch back up to the group. The pain was still there and required a full stop with shoe and sock coming off. All I could think of was the time I was losing to everyone else, all 4 or 5 minutes, and how this stupid cactus was screwing up my perfect race. Well, in a sense it did because I started to push all the way from the ridge, through the City Creek aid station and up the next climb where I regained 4th place passing Andy and Craig at the top.

Part II - When you find yourself in a hole - stop digging. 

Next up was the cruiser descent to Midnight Creek at mile 25. I continued to reel in 50k runners and took note of how wet my arms looked from perspiration. The plan was to put down some solids at the aid station but I sort of forgot and had a cup of coke instead. The next climb didn't feel particularly hard but I certainly didn't have as much pep in my legs. I chalked it up to having already run 25+ miles. The section from the top of this little climb to the aid station is not very steep in sections so it requires a bit of effort to keep the pace up and that's exactly what I did. Somewhere through here I remember a small pain developing in abdomen area on the right side and being rather perplexed by it. I was about 2 miles out of the aid station when Joelle Vaught caught up to me followed by Erik. My thought at this point was to let them go and save something for the next big climb. We all entered the aid station within a minute of each other and Marge (Greg's wife) had me in and out in no time at all (Thanks Marge, you were awesome!). I took a red bull with me and drank most of it while Ben Lewis walked with me for a bit.

The beginning of this climb is very runnable and even though the pain was getting worse in my side I made myself a deal to run for 9 minutes and walk for 1. That worked for 3 intervals as I kept Erik in sight. The pain continued to get worse and became intolerable whenever I would try and run. Before long Greg passed me, who I was really stoked to see having such a great race, then Matt caught up to me as we came through the Scout aid station. I watched them both run away as I realized I was getting myself into trouble. I forced down some gel and continued to drink as I felt no nausea whatsoever. However, my energy was extremely low and every time I tried to jog the knife would jab me hard in the side.

Part III - I can't fight this feeling anymore.

Higher and higher we climbed Scout Mountain and even though I was moving slower than I wanted I continued to pass 50k and 20 mile runners. Then I tried to jog a flat section shortly before the summit and the side pain crippled me. Walking was the only option and with a long cruiser descent in front of me I was not very happy. I took 5 minutes at the top and sat down to at least enjoy the view, looking over the course from the high point. As I stumbled off the top I became light headed at which point I would have to stop or at least slow down so I wouldn't fall. Once I was down in the trees I mustered a jog for a few minutes before I suddenly became overwhelmed with nausea and dizziness. I desperately looked for a tree to lean on and then let everything out. Within a few minutes the scene was over and I sat down on the side of the trail to collect myself. For reasons I can't explain a song popped into my head at that moment. The really odd thing is I can't even remember the last time I heard the song, but the lyric kept repeating in my head.

How corny is that? I continued to stumble for what seemed line an eternity down to the last aid station, Big Fur, where I knew I was going to pull the plug. That was until I saw Roch Horton. He was putting me back together before I even sat down. But I was too far gone, puking again while I was in the aid station. Just after that Peter rolled in looking a little rough around the edges and took the seat next to me. Cheryl Meltzer showed up around the same time and the two of them coaxed me out of the chair for the final 5 miles, 4 up, 1 down.

The three of us set off down the road and within minutes it was pretty clear that I couldn't hold the pace. I had figured out that I hadn't processed any food or liquid for nearly 5 hours and while I wanted to finish, I just couldn't muster anything more than a stumble. Just then Peter slowed down and waited for me. I told him to just go on without me, but in reality I was hoping he would run it in with me. Peter refused to go on, telling me it would be "good time" to finish together. I was relieved and tried hard to keep moving forward but shortly before the top of the last climb I was dizzy again and had to sit in the shade for a few minutes. As terrible as I felt I shared the music lyric moment with Peter and we had a good laugh. Even though the bugs were swarming us and our legs were twitching from cramps I was happy right there in the shade with my friend.

We eventually stood up and stumbled the last 3 miles to the finish where everyone else jumped in to put us back together. I sat on the grass happy to be finished and grateful to have such great friends.

Thank you, you guys are the best.

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.

Pocatello 50 Race Report - 4 in 1

The Pocatello 50. Three fabulous races (53 mile, 36 mile, 20 mile) on a course that has it all - snow, mud, bushwhack, streams and amazing scenery. A big thanks to Race Directors Jared and Ryan who did an amazing job, along with all the volunteers, to pull off a such a great event. Bravo!

Since most of the MRC ran Pocatello we decided to combine our respective reports into one post. So, while it may look like a super long race report it's really a bonus 4 in 1.

In summary:
50km: Jay Aldous
50 mile: Christian Johnson, Greg Norrander and Peter Lindgren


Jay's 50km Report:

Jay and Glenn on the start line.

My day was a bit of train wreck – but fun none-the-less. I wasn’t aware that the aid stations had been changed due to the snow. I went out fast with a single 20 oz bottle with plans to fill up at mile 9. From the start, I immediately pulled ahead of the other 50K runners. Right after the climb through the stream bed below Kinport, I caught Dakota Jones and passed him. By the aid station that was just over the top he had almost caught back up with me. Thinking there would be aid at mile 9 I ran through the aid station and opened it up hoping to not loose too much of my lead to the rest of the 50K runners who I knew were likely to be much faster downhill runners and would soon be reeling me in. When I got to the junction where I thought there would be aid at mile 9 and there was nothing, I knew I was in a pinch. My bottle was empty and I still had 6.5 miles until Mink Creek. I continued to push it figuring that slowing down wasn’t going to solve my problem. I was able to stay ahead of Dakota on the descent (that was the best part of my day – running as fast I could to stay in front of him) and was the first runner to arrive at Mink Creek. But, I was fried.... Coming out of Mink Creek I struggled on the climb. I drank heavily and refueled – but knew that it was going to be 30 minutes or so before the system felt good again. I dragged all the way to Scout camp with Dakota and 2 more 50 milers passing me. I didn’t bounce back as fast or as completely as I had hoped. I was super slow in the snow which was probably a function of my BAD ATTITUDE about snow more so than ability. Once I got out of the snow on the decent back to Mink Creek I started to feel better.

Jay heading of Mink Creek AS for the final 7 miles

During this descent Damian Stoy and Dominick Layfield passed me. While my legs felt good, I just didn’t have any gas to pursue them and just watched them slowly pull away. I was able to catch Dominick on the climb out of Mink Creek, but knew that once we crested and the descent started, it would be over – and it was with him quickly pulling away.So, a big lesson learned. Attend the pre-race meeting! And, there is a risk for cutting it close with hydration and fueling. Some good lessons learned!

Christian's 50 mile report: I had a few goals heading into this one, first I wanted to get a sub-10 hour time on this tough course and second I had to make sure I still felt good at the finish. Basically I was in need of a confidence booster ahead of Hardrock on July 8th and I got it. I ran much of the first 11 miles with Matt Hart until we hit the long downhill coming off the ridge, where he took off. I caught Jeremy Humphrey on this descent and rolled into City Creek feeling quite good at mile 17. On the climb out of City Creek I eased off the pace a bit, where Joelle Vaught passed me, but I was still able to run much of the trail until we hit the bushwhack/creek section. We were starting to catch 50km runners at this point and they were all really nice and encouraging as we dipped in and out of the snowy creek. Toward the top I caught sight of Matt and Joelle as I pushed just a bit to catch up to them. All three of us ran through the Kinport aid station together and as we started the descent I felt strong enough to take the lead. I really enjoyed the cruiser singletrack but after about 30 minutes I started to feel a little sluggish. I fully expected Matt and Joelle to pass me at this point but Matt was feeling a bit low as well. My wardrobe choice was a bit warm at this point so I started to plan out how I was going to switch into shorts and out of my Capro's. At the Mink Creek aid my lovely wife was there with supplies and shorts. I made the switch but I was passed by Matt and Joelle in the process. While I thought I was feeling a bit better, it soon became apparent that I was still struggling as I started up the long climb to Scout Mountain. The snow and mud became a little frustrating but I kept reminding myself that patience was the key, just keep it steady. Soon enough I heard a cowbell and saw Aaron Spurlock at the trail junction, he let me know it was only a mile down to the aid as I picked up the pace. The Scout Campground aid was a welcome sight with Roch Horton, Catherine and Karl Meltzer and David Hayes taking care of runners. I grabbed some coke, one of Karl's perogies and set out for the last 15 miles. The perogie took a little while to settle but when it did I felt fantastic. I rallied the descent back to Mink Creek but I was still caught by Jeremy as we hit the aid station for the final time.

Christian just before Mink Creek AS, mile 45

Betsy had me out of the aid station in no time at all with Jeremy right behind me and 7 miles to go. I remarked to him "let's finish this strong" and started running up the trail. I held a good solid pace to the left hand turn up Corral Creek and when I looked back I no longer saw him. At this point I thought I might be able to reel in Joelle or Matt but the only runners I caught were in the 50km. As the final descent started I focused on the sub-10 goal. I wasn't sure if it would be possible until I heard the traffic on the road at the bottom. Now I knew I would make it as I ran sub-8 min pace for the final 1.5 miles on pavement and crossed the line in 9:45, feeling like I could keep on going. With both my goals accomplished I couldn't have asked for more and I think the smile says it all.

Christian at the finish of the 50 mile

Peter's 50 mile report: When Christian called me Friday night to let me know that he had my race packet, and I hadn't yet left Salt Lake City, I knew was unprepared. Pre-race meeting?

We did enjoy dinner at home, which was less of a gamble than finding something in Po-Cat-a-Lo. We finally made it to Pocatello in a sideways rain. At 10 PM while my kids finished a swim in the hotel pool and I worked on a few clinic notes and called in lab orders for the following morning, I realized it was time to look at the course and aid stations. With the hotel pen and note paper I made a crude list of mileages, while nibbling on cheddar cheese popcorn left over from the Grand Canyon trip. (In the morning Christian gave me a nice laminated card of mileages and pace.)

In the end, it was liberating to have no drop bags, or a clue as to what was ahead. I just ran how I felt and tried to find my all-day pace. My lack of mileage was evident as my all-day pace was slow. You can't fake having not done the work. That said, I did well managing the day despite lack of preparation, and felt remarkably normal at the finish. I suspect that I would have been in a world of hurt had I tried to stay with Sandy White the last mile down the road. Always amazing to see someone with such speed at the end of a race. I guess that is what happens when you are racing the clock. Sandy nipped in under 11 hours.

Jay's pole carrying technique worked well.

Peter with a new pole carrying technique and Doritos. 11 chips (exactly what I could hold in both hands - go ahead and count them)- have 150 calories, 180 mg of sodium, and saved me from another sweet gel.

While I didn't see the previous course, the conditions from Greg's 2009 pictures looked much faster. Christian and Greg's times this year would have placed them 3rd and 4th overall in 2009. The strength of the field was astounding. A clear message that Jared and Ryan know how to put on a great race.

Greg's 50 mile report: I don't have much to add, my race was non eventful as usual. I too should have looked at the profile and map a little more closely.

Greg coming into City Creek AS

I passed a 3-4 people in the middle of the third leg then pushed really hard to make sure none of them came back at me. At the last aid station Ty Draney and I left at the same time, he took off running up hill and I chased him as hard as I could for 15 minutes staying 20ft behind him thinking he might blow up and bonk, all I managed to do was blow myself up! Before Ty left me behind for good I asked him how long the last loop was, he said 7 + miles, I finally pulled out the pace chart Christian had given me and realized Ty was correct I still had 5.5 miles and a stout 1,200 ft climb left, it was hard to get my head around that but I still managed to finish somewhat strong.
I really, really like this course, particularly the part on the second leg going up the small stream in the gully weaving in and out of the trees, you just can't find that type of route at your normal 50 mile trail race. The combination of fantastic mountains and wonderful people make this a very special race for me. Congratulations to everybody who towed the line in one of the three race distances. To link to the full results click here

Greg, relaxing at the finish.

Antelope Island Buffalo Run 50k race report

I wouldn't call myself a gambler, but I do like to take calculated risks. Not the kind of risks that put my life in danger, more like the kind that test my limits, especially if there is less at stake. I've also come to realize that the more time there is between races the more risk I'm willing to take. Enter the Buffalo Run 50k, my first ultra I ever did back in 2006 and my first race this year. Before my lucky number was drawn for Hardrock I was actually doing speed work a couple days a week to prepare, but since then my training focus changed a bit to incorporate more climbing. Despite the lack of speed work my goal was to run a 4 or 4:10

Standing on the start line I was able to catch up with Nick Clark and a few other friends before we were off. Midway up the first climb I found myself in the lead group with Nick, Seth Wold, Jake Krong, and Mike Foote. The pace seemed a little fast but still well within my limits but my heart rate monitor told me something different, holding steady at 166 to 168. I knew that was too high but carried on anyway.

Seth, Nick, Jake, then Mike and myself 20 yards back, Photo: Greg Norrander

We all stayed together through the first aid station at mile 5 and then we hit the long downhill. Within seconds Mike and I watched Nick, Seth and Jake use their high turnover to pull away. We chose a more conservative pace and lost at least a minute before we started climbing again. Mike and I stayed together on the long switchback climb but when we hit the flat section at the top I could feel my hamstrings tighten up as I tried in vain to stay with him. I backed off for the moment and decided I would try and make up time on the climbs.

Coming back through the overcrowded Elephant Head aid station at mile 10.6, Mike had a minute on me and the other had about 4. Shortly after this I realized I needed electrolytes but I had none. I admonished myself for overlooking such an important detail and kept on eating my gels. I saw Greg taking pictures after the next climb and he confirmed the splits I had calculated. Foolishly I kept on pressing because I was still on pace to break 4 hours. I hit the turnaround in 1:55 and spent a good minute or so hoisting the water container on to the table and filling my bottle. The climb back up was not nearly as smooth as first time so I was quite surprised to only be a couple minutes slower this time up. I was eager to start running faster on the flat but my hamstrings protested so I just did what I could. I switched into survival mode and moved as fast as I could through the rest of the lap. I should have stopped and filled my bottle the last time through Elephant Head AS at mile 26 but I took one look at the line and just kept on running. I received a bit of lift from Betsy, my lovely wife, as we crossed paths in this section. She was looking strong in her first ultra and she encouraged me to gut it out.

The finish line. Photo: Greg Norrander

Shortly after the trail split with about 3.5 miles to go I was caught by Shaun Christian and gamely tried to match his pace but it wasn't happening. I ended up crossing the line in 6th place, stopping the clock in 4:25. For those keeping track that's a 2:30 second loop, a full 35 minutes slower than the first. The lack of electrolytes figured into part of the slow down, but in all honesty a sub 4 was too ambitious (this year) and I blew up going for it. Jake took the win in 3:38 followed by Seth Wold, Nick Clark, Mike Foote and Shaun Christian, myself, Bryon Powell and David Hayes, full results here. The top 3 all went under the course record set by Nick last year. Really quite amazing.

Besides beating myself to a pulp, the highlights were seeing all my friends and meeting some new ones. I had a great time hanging out at the finish chatting with everyone while I anxiously waited for Betsy. She had predicted something around 7 hours but I knew she would be faster and I was right. I was super proud to watch her finish strong and stop the clock at 6:18! Congratulations to Jay for taking 3rd in the 50 miler with a 6:43, watch for a report on his race soon. Thanks to Jim Skaggs for his ongoing deal with the weather gods and putting on one of the biggest ultra's in the country.

Betsy crossing the finish line. Photo: Greg Norrander

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.