Monday, September 29, 2014

Bear 100 - Race Report

"When you are out there, it really seems like agony sometimes and you wish you were elsewhere. But the second it was over, you realize it was a fine place to be at that time. Life isn't about normal moments. Its about special ones. And every August I get one of those burnt into my brain forever." - Brandon Fuller

As I sit down to write this, I have no idea where it will go. Therefore, I will give you an easy out and give you the short version up front. My current running goal is to finish a 100 miler in 24 hours. I went after a 24 hour finish in a difficult race under impossible weather conditions. I got a little greedy too early and started suffering around mile 70, mostly just overheated. Then horrendously bad weather came at mile 75 and I shut down. I wanted to quit several times but my pacer, Chuck, and my sister would not allow it. I finished and I am proud of it. Brandon's quote above summarized it better than I ever could.

Now, the long version. If you choose to continue, I recommend coffee...

I signed up for Bear 100 back in February, long before I knew if I was healed enough from surgery to actually run again. My goal was to finish and get another ticket for the WS100 lottery. I picked Bear 100 mostly because WS100 now forces you to run a 100 to qualify and because my buddies Steve and Tony wanted to do it. As the summer progressed, my training was coming along and I smashed a 50 mile race in June. My new diet and other factors had me considering bigger goals than just finishing. I believed (and still do) that I am capable of 24 hours at Bear 100, but things would have to go perfectly for me. I went to Utah full of confidence and hoping for a great day.

Race morning we woke at 3:15 and left at 4:30 to drive down the canyon to the race start. Watching the weather all week, we figured it was going to be a warm day. At the pre-race meeting, they announced it would be at least 12 degrees hotter than normal on race day, between 85 and 87 degrees. I dressed properly in only a sleeveless shirt and shorts. Inside, I knew this could have a huge impact on my race. I hadn't trained for any heat since June, figuring this race would be closer to 65 or 70 degrees -- it SNOWED last year! For those that know me, snow would have been way better than 85 degrees. At the pre-race meeting, they also started talking about "possible showers" beginning at about 3 am. We just blew that off and figured some light rain would cool us off.

The three runners at the pre race meeting

Logan Peak - 10.52

I made a last minute decision not to wear a headlamp at the start at 6 am. Sun up was expected to be a little after 7 am and I wouldn't see my crew for about 4 hours, meaning I'd have to carry it for 3-hours for no reason. Tony and I started the race just easing along and chatting. He was probably going a bit faster than expected and I was going a bit slower than 24-hour pace, but I didn't really have a choice with no light. Plus, it was 68 degrees at race start, according to my Garmin. Tony and I ran across another Colorado runner named Ben and chatted with him a bit. I could see he was sweating quite a bit already (and so was I). He commented that there would be lots of "overheated radiators today". That was quite the prophetic statement.

As expected, the course started climbing right away. The good news was that we knew it was coming. Even better, I could breath! I am so used to running these big climbs at altitude and sucking wind. It was a nice change to be pushing up a mountain at sub-20 pace and have it actually feel easy. The other thing that was expected was the amazing beauty of the colors. I cannot even describe how pretty it was, overwhelming almost. Tony and I cruised into the first aid station in about 2:50, or 20 mins behind 24-hour splits. I was fine with that because my first objective for the day was not to let this first climb ruin my race.

Tony, Steve and I at the start

One of many amazing views from the day.

A little bit of downhill in a section marked primarily with uphill.



Leatham Hollow - 19.66

There is just a little climbing left after Logan Peak. The ensuing downhill was incredibly beautiful and very runnable grade. I cruised along at an easy jog to keep from tripping on tree roots hidden in the leafs and to try and save my quads for later in the day. But, I could hear runners behind me still jockeying for position and impatient with my methodical approach to the descent, eventually moving over so they could go by. I came into Leatham Hollow about 30 mins behind 24-hour pace and 15 mins behind 28-hour pace. I guess that is why people were so hurried.

Up to this point, I was doing a good job of eating Hammer Bars -- 3 in these first two sections -- and nursing a multi-hour bottle of Ucan. My stomach was sending me signals that I was overdoing it -- cramps and some burping. Too much fluid and too much food. As I pulled into aid, I tossed Chuck my multi-hour Ucan bottle with instructions to keep it. I was abandoning the Ucan plan, for now. I switched to Skratch and Hammer Bars since that combo worked well for me at North Fork in June. My crew worked diligently to fill my bottles, apply sun screen, and get me back on the trail.

Running through the leafs

One challenge was the amount of trail covered in leafs

Coming into Leatham Hollow
Telling Chuck my demands... "No more Ucan!"



Richards Hollow - 22.50

After a rather quick stop at Leatham Hollow, I was out with Tony again. This time, Tony explained that he was going to slow it down and let me go ahead. This presented me with a great opportunity to put in my iPod and click off some miles before Robbie would join me in 4 hours. I always do my best work with an iPod in. Saying goodbye to Tony, I settled into my tunes and just ran. The trail turned into a long, runnable stretch of jeep road and I took advantage by doing a slow jog with a few walk breaks. At the Richards Hollow Aid, I over heard several runners commenting on the heat and how the next section was going to be exposed. The battle was now upon us.

Cowley Canyon - 29.98

Immediately upon leaving Richards Hollow, the trail turned into a climb and I began a comfortable hike, mostly passing people along the way. Many of the people I passed were those that were impatient with my downhill running before Leatham Hollow. The climb went on for a long time and it was becoming hot. Every chance I got, I would dip my hat in water and drench my shirt. In fact, I continued to do so until both my shirt and shorts were soaked. With my body cool, I pushed the 2,000 foot climb and began passing a dozen or so runners, moving up nearly 30 spots in the race in two aid stations. The final few miles are a dirt road descent into Cowley Canyon and I once again ran pretty conservatively, keeping with my regimen of Hammer Bars and Skratch Labs.

I was surprised to see Robbie greet me a quarter mile from the aid station, expecting to not see my crew until Right Hand Fork. They made a last minute decision to meet me here. It was good to see them and get my bottles refilled with ice cold water. And, I got updates on Tony and Steve, a theme that would continue the entire day. Getting updates every 4 hours from crew was more reliable than "live tracking".

Coming into Cowley where Robbie and crew met me

Zoned out and working
Brother and sister working together


Right Hand Fork - 36.92

The entire Bear 100 course goes like this: aid station, climb, downhill, aid station. This pattern is almost without fail. The climb out of Cowley was a jeep road, totally exposed in the heat of the day. The field was beginning to spread out and I was running alone more and more. I once again began to grind out the climb before a long, steady descent into Right Hand Fork. About a quarter mile shy of the aid station is a confusing junction. The course goes down to the aid station and then doubles back in a mini-out-and-back segment before heading up to Temple Fork. One of the runners tried to convince me to go immediately up toward Temple Fork before going down to Right Hand Fork. However, I intuitively guessed the aid station must be down because I knew we were close and it didn't make sense to start climbing at this point. Finally, a runner that knew the course came by and solved the tie, I was right, downhill. 

Arriving at Right Hand Fork, I was greeted by my crew again, now a full hour off 24-hour splits. The effects of the heat were on full display and runners all around me were suffering. I was moving up in the race by continuing to pour water on myself. At the aid station, I gulped down a Red Bull and and picked up some gels. My sister lathered me in sun screen and I took off with my first pacer, Robbie.

A quick note: I am incredibly grateful for the support of my family and friends in these endeavors. For my sister to take 3 days away from her busy life to come support me is beyond words. I cannot thank her enough. I had to send my daughter to school in tears on Wednesday because she wanted to come so badly. And, I had two pacers come all the way to Utah to join me. Wow.

Temple Fork - 45.15

Robbie and I left the aid and I took a few minutes to catch him up on what was going on in the race. We once again passed the confusing intersection and continued up to toward Temple Fork. I felt pretty good for the most part and ran much of the uphill in this section. Robbie asked how my nutrition was doing and I told him I had already eaten 5 Hammer Bars and some Skratch and some Ucan. He seemed pleased and even a bit surprised by the 5 Hammer Bars. My gut was certainly telling me to ease off a bit. We were unknowingly playing a game with Bryon Powell of iRunFar.com. He'd walk and we'd methodically close the gap on him to a hundred yards or so. Then, he'd do a quick 5 minute push and open the gap on us. This continued for miles. At one point he turned and asked if we were going the right way. We responded that we were unsure but Robbie had been diligent about looking for turn flags and not seen any.

The course reached a high point and they put an unmanned aid station at the summit. I was so grateful because I was going to be out of water by the time we reached Temple Fork. I filled my water bottle to the top with ice from a cooler before putting water in. The ice water was the most satisfying thing that I could have put in my mouth at the moment. Robbie fiddled with the coolers and put some water from a camping-style water bag into an empty water cooler that was still full of ice so that runners to come would have some ice water. After turning off the jeep road onto a proper trail, we were once again running along a small stream. Bryon and some of the other runners we'd been leap frogging were sitting with their feet in the water. I had tape all over my feet and didn't want to take my socks off, so I dunked my hat a few more times to drench my body and we started trotting down the hill.

About a quarter mile from the actual aid station was a "PBR aid station" manned by a couple of guys giving out free beer. Robbie grabbed a whole one and I took a small sip of some from a cup. It was actually quite refreshing. I chowed on some aid station food, replenished my fluids and we were off, still 1 hour behind 24-hour pacing. To be honest, I pretty much knew 24-hours was a long shot at this point. I am not an experienced enough 100-miler to think I was going to even or negative split the course, even though it was quite a bit easier in the second half. But, I was really trying to keep my splits from falling farther off the 24-hour mark.

In the middle of nowhere, hot and chasing Bryon Powell

Tony Grove - 51.84

The climb to Tony Grove is the second toughest of the day (after the initial climb), totaling almost 2800 feet of gain in less than 7 miles. It goes right up a gulch occupied by cattle. The cows were a constant presence all day, both them and their feces were on nearly every section of the entire course other than the jeep trails. This time was slightly different because the gulch was fairly narrow and they were only about 10-15 feet from you as you ran by. I remarked to Robbie that one of the mother cows looked angry and we should get moving.

I was still working really hard and primarily in a power hike, running only a few minutes every mile or two. We continued to pass runners and tried to take in the beauty of the course, which was on full display in this section. More and more runners began to struggle, several slowing to a walk and at least one stopped to vomit, allowing us to pass. Near the top, the climb relented a bit. But, there were several false summits that frustrated me. Robbie went ahead a bit to catch a woman he knew and motivate me to try and pass her. Robbie gave me an extra water bottle and sprinted ahead to have my crew ready once we were near the aid station.

I pulled into the aid station feeling pretty good overall, hot but energized. It was 6 pm and I was still an hour behind 24-hour splits. Without asking me, Chuck shoved my headlamp in my pack. I took a long time at aid because I kept thinking of things I wanted: Red Bull, amino acid pills, more food, etc... And, I got updates on both Tony and Steve. The accounts seemed to suggest the heat was giving them both trouble, but they were moving along and still in the race. After what seemed like forever, I said bye to Robbie and took off with my second pacer, Chuck. It was really only 6 mins.

The course is much harder in the first half and I knew I had done most of the hard work (more than 12K of vertical gain compared to 8K in the second half). Unfortunately, I only knew vague/big-picture details about the course and had to guess what the second half would be like. I figured if I had a great second half I might be able to pull of 24-hours, but was really hoping for at least sub-25. My first 50 miles were 11:42 and nearly 13K of vertical, according to my Garmin. Too bad it is a 100 mile race!

Franklin Trailhead - 61.48

Earlier in the week I had explained to Chuck that this section was all downhill and that we had to make up time here. Unfortunately, it followed the pattern I discussed earlier and went uphill for the first few miles out of aid. The "climb" was not bad at all, but I had been climbing most of the last 7 miles and really needed a break. I used the hiking time to catch up with Chuck and explain what had been going on. He took stock of how I felt and where I was at. After a few technical spots, we finally started the descent toward Franklin. I began running, pretty well in fact. I was passing runners that were moving pretty well through a nice runnable section of meadow. In hindsight, taking about 30 secs off of each mile in here probably would have been a good idea. 

As the miles clicked by, it was getting dark. I hoped to make it to Franklin Trailhead before turning on my headlamp. But, every time we went into grove of trees, it got very difficult to see. I was concerned about not being able to see some of the exposed tree roots and falling. Finally, we stopped and put on our headlamps so we could see just shy of mile 58. This is when the WHOLE race changed for me.

It was ironic that Robbie had asked me earlier if Steve had much experience running in the dark. I didn't think much of that comment until I was walking downhill, tip-toeing around some technical rocks in the dark. That was when I realized it, I am lousy at running in the dark. Worse, I began to get negative and complain a lot. The course went from nice runnable grade through a meadow, to steep and rocky. Then, it turned into a section through a field of sage brush, still just techy enough that I really had a hard time doing much running in the dark. And, it was still hot, probably 70 degrees at 8 pm. This is another theme for me, I have a hard time with the night time heat. It is one thing to run in the middle of the day in 85 degree heat, but your body needs to acclimate when it doesn't cool off for hours after sun down.

In addition to the night running, I am disappointed with how negative I got. I didn't know the course super well, but I suspected there was plenty of "runnable" track left, primarily jeep road. Instead of being so down, I wish I had just remained patient for better trail to come. The one thing about this course is that if you wait long enough, the trail always changes. Sections of it are mostly jeep or 4x4 road, some sections are real trail, and some are this sort of made up trail that winds through Aspen groves and sage brush fields. The last were the only sections of trail that I found unpleasant as they were littered with roots, rocks and cattle holes. Much of it was cambered badly to one-side as well.

Despite all the negativity, we split the section pretty much exactly as we'd wanted in 2:15, still an hour off 24-hour pace. At the aid station, I told my sister all my problems and we headed off into the night, uphill once again.

Logan River - 68.6

I knew there were a few difficult uphill sections to go. This turned out to be the last one that I'd call non-runnable for a mid-pack runner. Right after Chuck and I left, I sent him back to get spare batteries from my sister because my headlamp was fading fast. It was still warm out and I was working hard, rarely taking a break from the hiking. My nutrition was mostly gels at this point, every 40 minutes. Sometimes I would take one bite off a bar or eat some aid station food just so Chuck would reset the timer on food. The most difficult part of the section -- other than climbing -- was finding the way. This course has a reputation for not being marked well and runners getting lost. While I would not call it poorly marked, I would say it was sparsely marked. There were long stretches (half a mile or more) with no confidence markers and this was particularly hard during the night time, and when the rains came. We wasted a lot of mental energy trying to remain on course. And, the course would occasionally split around an island of trees. We often weren't sure if we should left or right, only to figure out that both wound up in the some spot less than a tenth of a mile up the trail. Just what I needed, another reason to get negative...

We got through the worst of the climb and the trail turned into runnable stuff, but I suddenly didn't have the energy. I was fried, feeling overheated and somewhat dehydrated. My radiator had overheated. As a result, we started going downhill and I was walking too much. Like the section before, the course went through a sage brush field full of rocks and I went into a bad mental place just complaining and unwilling to deal with it. As I should have expected, the trail turned into a nice dirt road and we were able to jog the final few miles into aid, way too slowly though. We arrived into aid 1:15 behind 24-hour pace, but still with a shot at sub-25.  I was in 40th place, my highest of the day, but was starting to pay for it.

I sat down to address some blisters and the volunteer freaked out and shouted for the medic to come over. I don't know why, it was a run-of-the-mill blister on my big toe. The medic took a quick peek and casually gave me some tape, exactly as I wanted. I taped my toes and put some tape on the forefoot of my left foot to protect against friction blisters. The volunteer gave me grilled cheese and coke while Chuck took care of my water. My Garmin was nearly dead, so I turned it off.  I was still following Bryon Powell, but this time he was leap frogging me. He would take much longer at aid than I, taking time to eat and rest up. I would head out onto the trail and he would pass me 10-15 minutes later, looking much fresher than me.

Beaver Lodge - 75.82

We left aid and had to cross the river on some logs, I was shocked I didn't fall on them. The other side of the river was some uphill -- continuing the pattern of up, down, aid -- but was honestly quite runnable. I maintained my position in the race, but was walking a lot and still felt overheated. I don't remember a lot about this section except that I was fried and we walked more than I cared to. My blisters were getting worse and my feet were dusty and dirty, so I decided to change socks when we got to Beaver Lodge. Bryon Powell later flew by and remarked that this section was easier than the last. While this was true, it didn't lift my spirits much. I re-twisted my right ankle -- the one I severely sprained last month -- on a cambered trail. There was a brief moment I thought my race might be over, but my ankle has healed enough that it withstood the twist. About 5 minutes later, I kicked and lifted a rock with my left foot that smacked me in the left ankle (yes the same one that kicked rock, don't ask me how I did it!). That stunned me and sent me further into my negativity hole!

I sat down in a chair at Beaver Lodge and my sister tended to me while Chuck dealt with his own blisters. Both Chuck and I applied more tape to our feet and I changed socks to my Dry Max trail socks. My sister returned with a cup of broth, which tasted amazing. I also mixed up some Ucan for the first time in hours and quickly swallowed two servings, hoping to get my calories and energy back on track. They asked me a lot of questions but I was growing unsure of what I needed. I, stupidly, said I didn't want my rain jacket and took my light weight, breathable jacket and arm warmers instead. I was losing time and desperate to figure out a way to fix the problems I was facing, but not really sure what to do. Lots of ideas, but not much time to try stuff.

Gibson Basin - 81.18

Immediately upon leaving the aid station, a light rain began to fall and Chuck and I walked through a confusing section of sage brush as we tried to follow the flags. I remember them discussing this section in the pre-race meeting, but I didn't remember exactly what to do. I was getting really low now. We finally found some other runners and followed their lead. Chuck was carrying some cheap ponchos and we took them out and draped them over our jackets and packs. At first it was a light rain for the first few miles, but our feet were getting wet quickly and it was starting to accumulate on the jeep road we were walking down. With each mile it became harder and hard to keep our feet dry. Then it became harder and harder to avoid sliding from the high point in the middle of the road into one of the tire ruts on the side. My energy improved, but my desire to run was steadily declining and near zero. We passed the Idaho state line somewhere around mile 79. Chuck was busy looking for flags -- he did an amazing job keeping me on course because I stopped looking for them -- and missed it. I think he may have also been looking down to keep his face out of the rain. This was one moment in the race we had both looked forward to, so I stopped him and had him come back and see it.

There were a few periods where the rain would stop, but we could not see any stars or the moon, and it seemed unlikely the breaks would last long. The climbing was only hard in a few spots, but it was slick. We went down a steep rocky descent that reminded me of Deer Creek, only with heavy moisture and mud. It was extremely slow going. The aid station had a huge fire and was run, among others, by a really helpful little girl. I got some more broth and sat down for a few minutes. My energy was the lowest of the night and I ate an Epic bar, which actually perked me up quite a bit. I heard a pacer tell his runner "it's flat, then we go up and over, then down into the next aid station". The pattern continues and we head back out into the night.

On our way out, I checked out: "bib 49 is out". The guy running the check in table stopped me and said I had a message from someone at aid #13 (Ranger Dip).  The next aid station was aid #12 (Beaver CG) and I couldn't figure out who would want to get a hold of me from that far ahead. He offered to radio them, but I declined and soldiered on with Chuck.

This photo was a few hours later than we passed in the rain

Beaver Creek Campground - 85.25

Both Chuck and I continued to try and figure out who would be trying to get in touch with us. We finally realized it had to be my sister, after remembering that they told us at the pre-race meeting that Beaver Creek Campground was a tough aid station to get to. With the rain, she must be having a hard time getting there. It was fine, all our gear was soaked and any new gear was just going to get soaked. We were living off aid station food, so it wasn't a big deal. There was a slight break in the rain, and Chuck even took his poncho off. It was now 5 am and I had 20 miles of walking to the finish. This was the first time in a 100 that I seriously considered dropping. Walking for another 6 hours in this just seemed miserable. But, we were in the middle of nowhere and dropping would have been tough to do. Plus, my sister wasn't at mile 85 aid station. And, my pacer wouldn't allow me. Ugh.

The last few miles into Beaver Creek were a slippery, muddy descent and we had to cross over a stream to get there. Once there, I again had some soup and sat by the fire. Many runners that had passed us were sitting there for an extended time to get warm and eat. I went immediately to the radio tent and they called ahead to Ranger Dip, and, sure enough, that was where my sister was. They closed the road to Beaver Creek afraid people would not make it in or out. I had to grind out at least 7 more miles until I could drop. Crap.


Ranger Dip - 92.2

The climb out of Beaver Creek was long and steady, quite runnable under normal conditions, I think. But I wanted no part of that. My first priority was to see if Chuck would let me drop. If not, I was going to walk it in, happy to get my sub-30 "Grizzly" buckle. About halfway through this section, the wind and the rain kicked up hard. The rain was falling at very intense rate, instantly overwhelming the trails and turning them into flowing rivers. I had to keep my head down to keep my poncho hood from blowing off or filling with water. My Gamin was long dead and I was asking Chuck every few minutes what our distance remaining was. The answer was disappointing each time, often only a tenth of a mile farther than the last time I asked. I finally realized that would drive us both crazy and tried to find something to keep my mind off of my misery. I left my iPod with my sister back at mile 75 and was left only with my own thoughts. I finally decided to count my steps, stopping at 100 and counting backwards -- sort of like "99 bottles of beer on the wall". It worked pretty well and I passed 10-15 minutes at a time without much problem. Chuck had firmly planted himself about 15 yards ahead of me, probably so he couldn't hear my constant requests to know the time and distance. In the wind and rain, there was no way he could hear me that far away. He did check every few minutes to make sure I was upright and moving. There were a few times that I nearly lulled myself to sleep with my methodical counting. It was challenging to remember my numbers and count my steps over rocks and puddles.

The wind was kicking up too and my cheap poncho was now torn down both sides. I had to fold my arms inside like chicken-wings, clasping the seams of the poncho to keep it closed and my core dry. Chuck asked if I should stop and put on my jacket, but I refused knowing it would get wet and make the situation worse. We had both been waiting for the sun to rise for hours now and it just wouldn't come up. The rain clouds delayed the dawn by a good 30 minutes. Somewhere around mile 90 we turned off the trail we were on to a jeep trail that was literally as slick as bullet proof ice in the winter. It took us about 15 minutes to cover a quarter mile on the way to Ranger Dip. We tried every possible way to make it work, only to conclude that moving with short, choppy steps was the only way. The rain let up a bit and I finally stopped to put on my jacket as a chill was overcoming my body. We continued to slide along at a snail pace.

I tired once again to convince Chuck to let me drop, knowing full well that he hates being cold and this was my best chance to get him to concede. I just could not fathom walking another 7-8 miles in this "mucous" mud. He once again rejected my overture, though he did seem to think about it a bit more. Mercifully, a mile and half later the trail turned onto a sandy jeep road with enough traction what we could walk into the aid station without much difficulty.

At the aid station, my sister looked somewhat shocked to see us, unsure of what was happening. She had been waiting here for 7 hours! We asked for broth and got barely warm liquid from the aid station. She made us some hot coffee with the Jet Boil we brought along. I traded her my pack for some warm clothing. Runners that had passed us nearly an hour ago were sitting in the aid station around a heater with their clothes off, drying. I stood by an open fire and waited for my opportunity, finally telling my sister that I was thinking of dropping. She looked at me and just said "are you capable of finishing?". Damn, wrong question. Fine, I will go. I took my rain jacket, tossed the crappy poncho, and ditched my UD pack. Then I topped off my cup of coffee and walked out into the forest to finish this mess. (All mud pictures borrowed from the Bear 100 Facebook page members.)

Mud

Mucous Mud

Tony after the race.

More Mud


Finish - 99.7

Twenty minutes after we arrived at Ranger Dip, Chuck and I were on our way to the finish. Just a stroll in the woods for two friends with no goal but to finish 8 miles in under 4 hours. However, we had no idea what the trail conditions would be like. The aid station staff wasn't super helpful to our inquiries on this topic. I knew the first little bit was a steep climb, and it was steep. Honestly, any other day, this incline would not have been too bad. But we could not stop from sliding backwards. We later heard that Steve literally slid down the trail and wiped out his pacer! We were grabbing branches of off shrubs and even going into the bushes on the side of the trail just to find traction. Amazingly, I never spilled my coffee.

The course turned pretty for a while and the rain let up. We just strolled along in the woods two friends trying to unpack the most insane night of trail running either of us had ever experienced. At first it was fun and good time to reflect on everything that had just happened. Soon, runner after runner trotted by us. I had no fight in me and made no attempt to catch them -- I might spill my coffee! Then the course turned wicked! It was literally straight downhill -- like 1100 feet down in one mile -- of mud that caked to your shoes and then turned into the slipperiest substance on earth. It was at least 2 miles of walking down the side of a cliff -- my quads and badly blistered pinky toes where killing me. We longed for the finish and cursed every twist and turn in the trail as we skid along trying to stay upright. The trail finally dumped us into town on a dirt road and the rain resumed coming down in buckets. (I have heard anywhere from 2 - 2.8 inches of rain fell in 24 hours.) As we approached the finish line, I saw the whole crew waiting for me. Robbie encouraged me to run, but that felt disingenuous considering I hadn't made a real attempt in about 8 hours now. I finally agreed and ran the last few hundred yards, told the table I was done, and turned around. Without even realizing it, I turned around and was standing below the sign for the finish -- a perfect photo opportunity.

Walking it in with Chuck

The finish line of "The Bear"

Sill wondering what the hell just happened

We went back to the cabin where we awaited word on Tony and Steve, both of them still on the course. I took a warm bath and called my family. I knew my wife was freaking out during the night because "live updates" were not even close to live and my sister had been out of cell range for about 20 hours. We soon got word that Tony and Steve would be coming in and headed to the finish line to great them. Steve was the happiest guy I saw finishing that race -- high fiving and smiling. I remained in the car to rest and stay dry as we waited. He came by the car and smiled and gave me "knuckles". Such pure joy was the greatest thing I could have seen. I need to find some of that in future adventures. Tony came in about 30 minutes later and seemed to have an attitude more representative of mine, but he got it done. Roughly half the field quit that day, but somehow the three of us all got it done. Our group defied the odds.

Summary

I don't really know how to summarize this. It was like two totally different races, both with different extremes of weather. Only 167 runners finished. My opinion is that most of the damage was done by the heat, not the rain. It was a tough day to try and run that course, the rain just turned it into an insane adventure. I posted on Facebook the night before the race that "things you never think of are things that become the biggest nuisance", but I had no idea just how true that would be. I figured the heat would be an issue, but I had no idea the rain would cause so much madness. It went from being a "30% chance" to being the only thing people talked about. I almost didn't pack rain gear because the forecast never gave us much cause for concern.

I complained over and over to Chuck that I wasn't having any fun and that I probably wouldn't do another 100. Predictably, three hours after it was over and we were swapping war stories, I was already thinking about the next one. The question is, how do I improve? What went wrong? Well, that will take some time to think about. But, here are my initial thoughts.

First, I didn't do any night running in this training cycle. In fact, I rarely do any night running at all. And, my night runs usually suck. I can think of two night runs before LT100 in 2012 that both were awful. One was a training run in my neighborhood trails, and I recall just being hot and really negative through the whole thing. The other was Brandon's Leaville Night run. Once again, I remember that run being pretty miserable. I was hot and drank all my water by the middle of it. I bonked and walked much of the last few miles. Ugh. On our drive home yesterday, I came up with my epiphany that night runs should be a focus of future training and got a resounding "YES!" from both Tony and Chuck. I guess they agree. I just never had a good granny gear to grind along at 14-17 min pace without hemorrhaging time. I was super uncomfortable with the heat and the technical trails in the dark and I resorted to walking very quickly.

The other thing that I need to work on is patience. I exhibited a bit of this by not going blazing up the first climb. I knew I was not on 24-hour pace right from the start and didn't stress too much about it. However, my lack of patience showed up in giving up on my nutrition strategy too early and not spending time at aid stations to problem solve. With each opportunity, I ignored warnings from my body and just pushed on. I also got a little too excited in pushing miles 37-58. My patience in the first climb was gone and I was trying to make up time, even though I knew 24-hours was very unlikely.

Finally, my nutrition needs further tweaking. My body sent obvious signs early on that I was eating too many Hammer Bars (side cramps, burping, etc...). And, I recognized that I was drinking too much fluid, downing Ucan in a bottle and plain water. I was smart to dial back on both of those. However, in hindsight, I wish I hadn't resorted to sugar so early and abandoned Ucan so quickly. When I finally overheated in the middle of the night, I definitely felt like sugar had overwhelmed me. I started drinking Skratch at mile 20, then drinking Red Bull at mile 37, and finally taking gels at mile 40 or 45 and it eventually wasn't working any more. At this moment, I think my next strategy will be to drink Ucan in gulps at aid stations (200-300 kcals at a time), instead of carrying a multi-hour bottle. Then I think I will rotate some products like Hammer Bars and Justin's Nut Butter in between, possibly even with periodic gels. My goal will likely only be 100 kcals or so each 45 minutes in between the Ucan and see how that goes. We'll see, but that is a starting point.

The good new is that I am walking away from this adventure quite healthy. I wound up with a few blisters on my pinkie toes and typical muscle soreness that has already mostly disappeared. My quads held up pretty well and so did my "climbing" muscles (hamstrings and glutes). My calves were quite sore after my first 100-miler in zero drop shoes (Altra Olympus), but they are rebounding quickly. Obviously, I feel quite a bit of fatigue and a bit of burn out from training. Those are likely to be the limiting factors for running the next few weeks.

5 comments:

  1. I think your training was still spot on, and sure a night training run may have been the only thing you lacked. BUT, the only other way you could have prepared was to work in a raining night "mucus mud" training run. Good luck trying to plan that! After reading this I'm even more impressed by you and your team to get 'er done. Kudos to your friends who finished as well. You guys are so bad ass ;)

    ReplyDelete
  2. I wrote this big long comment to you a few days ago and I'm thinking you didn't get it - or you didn't want to post it :)
    I tried to track you and failed miserably - well the website did...
    I do have to say that considering the conditions you did awesome. You have a lot of hootzpa finishing that race. It reminded me too much of Desert Rats this year, when I quit after the first loop because of the mud.
    I do really believe you had the 24 hour race in you - you just can't count on weather sometimes and this is one of those times. It becomes one of those things where you ask whether you alter your plans because of the weather or keep to it and hope it turns out - and even if you didn't get the time you wanted, to me it still turned out...
    I hope you recover well and just take it for what its worth...I guess addressing the 'attitude' towards the end might be interesting.. Are you sure you weren't just hangry? :) It sounds an awful lot like my attitude when I haven't eaten...
    Anyway - good luck with Western States - you should get in this year right? I'm sure you will but really great job AJ - dealing with those elements and pushing through. It sounds horrible and awesome all at the same time...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Sandra. I didn't get your comment earlier in the week. I wonder if the system screwed up or something. Yeah, I don't think I would have really quit. I was almost 80 miles in before it got really bad and it just made sense to finish. It wasn't much fun though.

      Delete
  3. Epic Adventure & Hats Off To Your Sister Of The Year!!! Your post captured an amazing tale of two races towards the same goal. It would be my rookie opinion, didn't read that you puked, that your training was spot on. You finished, You Didn't Receive an IV, & You were still standing after the finish line for pictures. You Are Awesome!! Stay Strong!! Cheers

    ReplyDelete
  4. I loved this account.
    "I stood by an open fire and waited for my opportunity, finally telling my sister that I was thinking of dropping. She looked at me and just said "are you capable of finishing?". Damn, wrong question. Fine, I will go. I took my rain jacket, tossed the crappy poncho, and ditched my UD pack. Then I topped off my cup of coffee and walked out into the forest to finish this mess.."

    Thanks for the race report - I'm looking forward to the climbs and hopefully dry weather in three weeks!

    ReplyDelete