After years of staring up at the ridgeline extended south from the Mount Timpanogos summit and curving southeast up Provo Canyon, I finally traversed it. It was significantly rougher going than the ridgeline that extends north from the summit. The day was beautiful but I moved slow and the hours took their toll. In the end it was about 17 miles with over 6,000 ft. of climbing. Map and route details on Strava: https://www.strava.com/activities/15642067179
Another birthday outing present to myself. This time I eschewed the main Timpanogos Summit and shwhacked my way up to East Peak – a seldom-visited spot on the east flank of the Timpanogos massif. Accessing it from the Aspen Grove trail was easy. Instead of going back the way I came, I descended southeast off the saddle below East Peak into the Stewart Falls drainage below Big Provo Hole and Cascade Cirque. If the descent down from the saddle hadn’t taken so long I would have gone up into one of those two. The “trail” down from there connects with the Stewart Falls trail but it is really overgrown. Maybe that’s good though. It deters people from heading up that way and keeps it remote and quiet for the few adventurers that do. Gotta get back up there soon.
Didn’t I swear I would train before doing another 50k, self-supported or as a race? Yes. Did I train AT ALL for this? Nope. Still great.
The Provo River Parkway Trail is exactly 25k long – Utah Lake to Vivian Park. That seemed predestined to be run as an out-and-back 50k. This is the longest pavement run I’ve ever done. Ouch.
I joined a couple other runners (Lisa and Cory) to sweep that last 25 miles of the Wasatch 100 course this year. It was a beautiful day, but hot. There seemed to be clouds all around, except for over us. Ha! By the end, I was pretty beat and cramped a lot for the last 10 miles.
It hit me the other day that I haven’t run a 50k since Bryce in June 2016 – almost 2 years ago. That kind of bummed me out. Life has gotten busy and I can’t bring myself to pay registration fees for races. I keep telling myself, “Oh, I’ll just run a 50k on my own for free.” But of course, I never do. I actually did try in December 2017, but it didn’t pan out.
Well, fast forward to a couple days ago when a fellow professor in my department mentioned that he was heading down to the Wedge. THE WEDGE?! Dang. I’ve been dying to get back down there. The Mrs. gave me the go-ahead, I drove down Friday night, slept in the back of the car, and at 6:30 AM on Saturday I was on the trail. I dropped aid station supplies at Campsite 5, as usual, and set out with a 50k plan in mind.
The 2 previous times I did the Good Water Rim Trail, I did the 16 mile trail from West-to-East, and then took the 5.5 mile road back to the start for a 21.5 mile loop. I haven’t been training, at all, but hoped that if I took it slow I could just to the 16 mile trail out and back for 32 miles – a 50k. Over the past year or two I bet my average run length has been 4-8 miles, with the longest probably being Timp summits. In other words, I hadn’t run this far in a long time.
I set out and tried hard to maintain a slow easy pace – in the mid 11min/mile range. It was hard. My body wanted to go faster. On the roads lately (I know, I know…roads?! But yeah, I’ve been putting in more boring road miles lately than I used to) I have been getting faster and faster – it has been exciting. So, consciously slowing myself down was a challenge. I hit the 9 mile aid station feeling great, resupplied, and headed out on the west 7 mile leg of the trail. About 1/2way there my legs started feeling pretty heavy and my pace slowed. I even caught a toe, fell, and bloodied my knee a bit. When I got to the end of the trail my friend (who left about an hour later than I did) caught up with me. Even though I wasn’t feeling great, I figured I could make back to the aid station via the 7 mile trail – and assess there if I would bail to the road for a quick 2-3 miles home instead of the last 9 miles back. I jogged and walked and jogged and walked. At the aid station (mile 23) I felt good enough to head out for the last 9. Those were a slow 9 miles, jogging, power-hiking, jogging, slow. But, I finished – a 50k. 51.5, actually.
It is the 5th time I’ve done a 50k and came in as my 3rd best time – right in the middle. The two slower the two times I’ve done Bryce. That’s understandable since Bryce is a lot higher in elevation and has a lot more climbing. Could I have done this one faster? Definitely, but I was out there simply to finish, to prove to myself that I could still do it.
Update – one day later, my legs felt great and I did a 10 mile bike ride with the family. Two days later and my legs still feel great. So, in terms of “recovery,” this has been my best 50k. I’ve never felt this good afterwards.
I have been eyeing Mt. Mahogany for a while – from the freeway, while climbing up Grove Creek, from Timpooneke Rd., etc. I decided I needed to do a full traverse of the ridgeline – in preparation (hopefully!) for a full Timp ridgeline traverse later this year. MVH came with, and it was a great day on the mountain!
We started at the Grove Creek Trailhead. To climb this south end of Mahogany, most take the Grove Creek Trail up to the bridge, then go straight up the scree north of that. That leads to the southernmost end of the Mahogany massif. For a cleaner “ridge” approach, we went straight up the SW ridge that begins at the Grove Creek trailhead.
It was steep, but fairly straight forward. There were a number of “trails,” and game trails. At the occasional cliff-band, stay left (north) and they are easy to skirt around. Steep though. 3,000 ft. climbing in 2 miles.
Once at the top, you are met with a beautiful set of verdant meadows – amazing spots for camping, though it would be a haul with lots of gear!
The summit was great, but I’m always amazed at how ridgelines that seem to only have one main pitch, always have multiple climbs. They are always steeper and longer than they look from the valley floor.
Coming down off the summit, continuing north, there was some fun snow to glissade down.
We made our way to the northern edge of the ridge where it drops down into American Fork Canyon. I jogged up and to the right to bag the north summit. Views for days. The descent down the NW ridge was steep – my knees didn’t like that.
I decided to treat myself to a Mt. Timpanogos summit for my birthday this morning. I have done the summit twice from the Timpooneke trailhead but never from Aspen Grove. I decided to make a loop of it. Up Aspen Grove, down Timpooneke, then loop back to AG on the Salamander Flats, Snow Gauging, and Lame Horse trails. A 19.5 mile loop.
I put out the call and two fellow Wasatch Mountain Wranglers joined – Keith and Tim. We started at 5:00 and caught an amazing sunrise as we climbed the trail out of Aspen Grove.
This side is steeper than Timpooneke, less runnable, but features some beautiful waterfalls, a few lakes and meadows, an old Forest Service ranger cabin, and views for days.
We spent a lot of time stopping and taking pictures, so I apologize to Tim and Keith for destroying their splits. But it was hard not to stop and gawk.
Once we climbed over to the saddle, it a wind picked up and it got a bit chilly. In the sun it was alright, but my hands got numb. At the summit, two other wranglers, Josh and Jade, caught up to us. They had started from the other trailhead and were pushing for a fast round trip. We sat around for a bit up top. It’s hard to just turn around and bomb back down when the views as so good.
Hat tip to Tim, as well, for picking up a ton of trash along the trail and on the summit. Littering makes me so mad.
Once we got off the saddle the temps picked up fast. Lots of hikers were moving up their trail a high fiving us as we ran down, thinking we were more hardcore that we are. When we explained the loop we were doing, we did get some raised eyebrows. Maybe we are hardcore.
About halfway down I rolled my right ankle hard. I heard an audible crunch. It ran of OK, though tender, until right at the bottom when I rolled it again. Sharp stab of pain. Oh boy…
At the trailhead I used the bathroom, drenched myself in water, refilled, and headed off for the return trails. Those were a tough 5 miles for me. Very runnable, but not for me. It was also fun to see a few new places.
The heat, returned GI distress, and the ankle. But, we made it and it was gorgeous. I will definitely make this loop again, but hopefully in better physical conditions. Happy birthday to me!
This was the first time I had registered and planned on running a half marathon. I did run one a couple months ago, but that was after dropping down from a 55k at the last minute. This meant that I went into it knowing that 13.1 miles was the target. With my 50k race I have made game plans, but that is a lot of miles to plan out, and I’m still pretty inexperienced so whatever plans I make tend to fall apart as the day wears on. With 13.1 miles, however, I felt I could make a careful plan.
So, here’s what it was: Go out very conservative for the first 4 miles of climbing. Pick a comfortable but challenging pace for the middle 5 miles of downhill. Pick up the pace for the last 4 miles and finish by going out strong and fast.
It almost worked out that way.
The Capitol Reef Half Marathon course is rugged. People had told me this of all the distances there put on by Ultra Adventures, but I brushed it off. I was used to rough trails here in the Wasatch, so how bad could it be. Well, it turns out that running rough trails for fun and running them for a RACE feels very different. In the racing mindset, the rugged and schwacky miles seemed to wear on me more than they do back home when I’m out for fun – both physically and mentally.
The first 2 miles of the course climb up the Great Western Trail for a total of about 1,000 ft. elevation gain. I resisted the adrenaline-induced urge to power ahead with the faster runners, knowing I had to conserve energy for later. This strategy served me well. At 2 miles hit the Government Creek trailhead area and veered east up a “trail” that climbed for another 2 miles and 1,000 feet towards. This part was quite rough and overgrown. Not runnable – at least not for me.
With the 4 miles of climbing done, I was excited to hit the downhill. Unfortunately, miles 5-6 wound past the Bullberry Lakes and down to Coleman Reservoir through an area that had previously been gutted by a forest fire. Now, however, aspen trees and dense ground cover were aggressively taking over. Though downhill (some quite steep and technical), it wasn’t very runnable. So overgrown.
At mile 6 we hit a water drop and a nice dirt road. I topped off my water, got some coke, and charged on. Miles 7-9 followed the road (Bullberry Trail) down to where we had started. It was warming up, but I was feeling ok. I still tried to hold back my pace a little bit in order to have something left in the tank for the finish. Looking back, I definitely could have and should have pushed this a tiny bit harder. These two miles (and the mile after the aid station) took too long.
Once at the aid station where we started, I got a bit more water and coke, some salt tabs, and took off. We ran the Teasdale TV Tower Road for about a mile until the Great Western branches back off. I suddenly felt sluggish and no energy. Once the route branches off onto a double track, my energy returned, though my pace didn’t necessarily pick up. It was a fun curvy up and down trail through some pretty red rock areas, but slower going than the dirt road had been.
I should have pushed the dirt road before a LOT harder as I wasn’t going to pick up much time on the double track.
Right before the finish, the route crossed highway 24 and I glanced down at my watch to see what my time was. It looked like it was right at 3:00 even. I took off, trying to sprint to the finish to come in under 3 hours. It hurt. Then, as I approached the finish line I saw the clock read 2:57:something. HA! I could have taken it easy.
In the end, I finished in 20th place out of about 50-60 runners. Had I pushed those 3 miles (7-10) on the dirt road a bit harder and shaved 3-5 minutes off my time, I could have picked up 5-6 spots. No worries though – I wasn’t in it to win, just to finish.
My plan to run conservative and save energy for the end mostly finished. I felt strong in my last few miles than I did back at the Zion Half Marathon. In all, a gorgeous, rugged, hot day.
Last year I ran the Bryce 50k as my first ultramarathon, finishing in 7:17. I returned this year hoping to post a better time and prove that I have, in fact, improved as a runner. Sometimes things don’t go as planned and it took me over an hour longer this round. I placed 70th out of 150 runners. Last time I was 30th out of 90. According to ultrasignup, I performed better overall this time – at 66% compared to the winning time. Last year I was at 61%. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who struggled in the heat! In all, it was a great adventure and *most* of my well-laid plans worked out ok. (See full gear list and music playlist I jammed to at the bottom). At 31.8 miles (51 km), its the longest run I have ever done. As always, Ultra Adventures put on a great event. This is my 4 race I have done with them and each one seems to run smoother and smoother.
The day started cool but pleasant. I wore short sleeves and was glad I did – many runners were peeling off layers within a few minutes of the start.
The course first climbs through King Creek Campground, then up and over some single track to connect with FS road 109. Again, I got caught behind a conga line of people which was fine on the climb – I wanted to go out easy – but a bit annoying on the descent. I would have liked to open up a bit.
FS Road 109 is probably the only “flat” part of the course. By flat, I mean climbing a few hundred feet over a mile and a half to where it connects with FS Rd 110.
There, we climbed up to the Blue Fly Creek area. These roads climbed a total of about 1,150 ft over 4 mile to where our course topped out at 9,150 in elevation. Not the more rewarding route, but there were some good views as it crested out.
I made it to the Blue Fly AS at about the same time I did last year. I tried to quickly mix some new Tailwind in my pack, grab a coke, and hit the trail. Immediately, we dropped down some steep and sandy technical single track on the Blue Fly Proctor Trail to reconnect with FS Rd. 109, which after climbs about 750 feet over 3 miles to connect with the Grand View Trail. Along this section, my old friend Matt Van Horn had left me a few notes of encouragement (he marked the course the day previous). It really brightened my spirits.
Once on the Grand View Trail (now at mile 11.5 of the course) we were running together with the 50 and 100 mile racers. I was feeling good. It was warm, but I was hydrated and happy. There is some beautiful singletrack, green meadows, pine forests, views of the Sunset Cliffs. The Paunsaugunt Plateau is just beautiful.
I arrived at Proctor Aid Station a little behind my time from the year previous, but not by much. Again, I wasted a bit of time there scrambling to refill my stuff, chug some electrolytes, eat a bit, reapply sunscreen, etc. Having a crew here would have been nice. I spent almost 15 minutes before hitting the trail again.
Almost immediately I felt “off.” I could tell that the heat was sapping my strength, but I haven’t ever had heat-induced stomach troubles before. Within about a 1/2 mile I had to stop and sit for a moment. I did this again a few times in the next couple miles, trying to allow my stomach to settle. It felt sour, threatening vomit. As I tried to press on, the trail drops through some canyons, and then traverses up and over the ridges between a number of canyons – Riggs, Johnson, Hillsdale, Wilson. These were rough miles. I tried to continue taking in fluids (with calories and electrolytes mixed in) but couldn’t consume as much as I needed to. With every sip or gulp my stomach roiled. Also, I could tell my core body temperature was too high. By this time it was in the high 80s – low 90s. At about mile 20.5, crossing Hillsdale Canyon there was a stream of water in a wash. I took off my pack and laid down in it. Soaking myself completely over and trying to cool myself down. It felt amazing.
I reached the Thunder Mountain Aid Station at mile 22.5 feeling very low. I sat down in a chair in the tent and tried to cool down. Unfortunately, they were out of ice. After about 20 minutes, I got up and prepped to leave. Then, my stomach objected and I used the composting toilet to alleviate some GI distress. I was glad to have gotten that taken care of there rather than a mile up the trail. In all, I was at that aid station for almost 30 minutes!
Climbing out I felt great…for about a 1/4 mile…then the nausea returned.
At mile 24 or so, we turned onto the Thunder Mountain Trail and commenced our 2.5 mile, 1,000 ft. climb up Red Rock Canyon. Its funny. Here amongst my Wasatch Mtn. trails, that isn’t too bad of a climb. It seems brutal, however, when placed at miles 24-27 of a race. I was dreading the climb, though looking forward to the scenery. It really it stunning.
While the red rock ridges are dotted with trees, I knew they provided even less shade than the spotty shade we had “enjoyed” over the previous miles on the Grand View Trail. The day’s heat was now peaking. I was taking in water and electrolytes (biting salt tabs and dissolving them sublingually to absorb straight into my blood stream), but no calories. My pack bladder had been full of Tailwind as my main source of calories. Coming into the Thunder Mountain Aid Station, however, I had been unable to keep drinking it. The flavor was putting my nausea over the edge. So, I had refilled with water, but had not mixed in any more Tailwind. This seemed to curb the urge to vomit, allowing me to keep hydrated, but leaving me sorely calorie deficient. I had eaten a bit of food at Proctor and Thunder Mtn. I had some gels or shotbloks in my pack, but eating them sounded horrible. Combined with the heat, I felt sluggish to say the least. I said a silent prayer for strength, and perhaps some cloud cover and breeze. The strength didn’t come as I would have liked but some wispy clouds actually DID blow in and an AMAZING breeze picked up for the entirety of the climb up Red Rock Canyon. There is a God! That partial cloud cover and breeze saved me. As I would crest up little ridge and have full exposure to the breeze I would stop for 10-15 seconds, squirt some water over my chest, back, and hair, and let the breeze cool me for a moment. Heaven-sent – figuratively and literally!
After the climb, the trail “descends,” traversing across a seemingly endless string of finger canyons – over a ridge, down and back into a little canyon, then back up and out, over a ridge, then down into the next one. My stomach settled somewhat and I was careful not to push it with too much water. Whenever I did take a few big guzzles, it would sour for a minute but subside. By this point, a few hot spots on my feet were beginning to blister – but not too bad. Some joints were causing more pain. My right hip ached a bit (like it has for months), but not bad. Worse was my left hip. It wasn’t on the hip bone like the right one, but farther down – perhaps attached to my left IT band. Who knows. But it was sharp and really bit.
I had the route navigation running on my Suunto Ambit3 Peak watch and finally saw the end waypoint. I crested the last ridge and dove down to the finish line. But wait! No finish line! Where it had been last year there was a table with some water and a sign saying the finish was another mile down the road. NO!!!!!
That was a real blow to the psyche. I tried to push down the road, walking, jogging, but too exchasted to try and fend off a couple other 50k runners were were hobbling past me.
Finally, with crowds in sight I start to hear chants of my name. “Hey professor!” “Yeah Brenden!!! Go man, Go!” A number of my Wasatch Mountain Wrangler friends (the Williams, Macdonalds and others?…sorry, it was all a blur) cheered me on, with Aaron running alongside me for a hundred yards. Its amazing what a physical boost that provided. I picked up my pace and actually “ran” a bit. Thanks guys!
I finished in 8:45:53. I reached the previous year’s finish at 8:31 – so about 1 hour and 14 minutes slower than last year. Wow. That heat!
At the end, it was hands down the hardest run I have ever done. Course-wise, its the toughest race I’ve done, and with the heat it was clearly harder than last year. Despite the slower time, I’m a stronger runner than last year. What an adventure.
Gear used:
Playlist during run:
I like maps and I like drawing routes on maps that I can only dream of ever running. I draw them and then challenge others to run them. See all of them at The Professor’s Trail and Ultra Courses.
The Big Baldy Vertical Kilometer Challenge is in my backyard and I tackled it this morning before work. Yowzers.
The SW Ridge of Big Baldy (above Lindon, UT – in-between Dry Canyon and Battle Creek Canyons) is crazy steep. From the Dry Canyon trailhead, it is just over a kilometer of vertical gain over just 2.2 miles of trail. The 2nd mile alone climbs almost 2,300 feet. In all, the climb is 3,330 ft.
I’m not a strong climber but knew I could make it to the top. If feeling strong, I was planning to double it from the meadow at the Dry Canyon / Curly Springs trail intersection in order to also check off the Big Baldy Double (Vertical Mile+) Challenge. (That didn’t happen). But I did do the vertical KM – in 1:36:53.
The Dry Canyon Trail climbs fairly steep for the first .7 miles to the meadow where the Curly Spring trail intersects. I dropped an extra bottle behind a trail there and continued about .3 miles to the turnoff up the SW ridge trail. That first mile climbed 869 feet. Not bad, I was feeling ok. And, that is when the real fun began. The next mile of tiny switchbacks and steep pitches climbed almost 2,300 ft. While climbing I got some great views of Timpanogos and Little Baldy and the valley. About 3/4 of the way up, some clouds rolled in and started to wrap around the ridge below and above me. Then, right around ME. I could see the wisps of cloud moving just a couple feet away. Very cool.
After climbing 1 mile up the ridge, I got to the very prominent false summit (there’s an old flagpole, now laying on the ground). Continuing north, you drop down a tiny little col and then climb NE up a saddle to the actual Big Baldy summit where there is a large stone cairn.
That adds another .2 miles or so. I took some pictures, turned around, navigated down the little bit of snow on the saddle, and then back down the SW ridge. Close to the bottom, I landed fairly hard on a hyperextended left knee. At the meadow, where I had hoped to grab my extra bottle and turn around for the double, I took a moment to feel out the knee. It wasn’t happy and felt like it might be swelling. So, I called it a day and headed back to the car.
It was a short but grueling morning. Very fun. I’ll be back for the double!
This morning I accidentally won the Zion Half Marathon. Not really. But I was the first half marathon runner across the finish line. How did I accomplish such a feat? Its easy – just accidentally start 1 hour before you’re supposed to. Let me explain…
I was registered to run the 55k. It was to be my longest run ever. I was a bit nervous (hip and foot/ankle were still tender) but excited. I had a good race plan figured out and was feeling confident that I could finish, even if it had to be a bit slow. Then, around 3 AM, it started to rain. Hard. The dirt along much of the course is high in clay content and when it turns to mud and gets trampled on it becomes quite unrunnable. Treacherous and slippery, it would have made portions of the 55k route dangerous. Also, in those conditions the runners would have destroyed the trails. So, at the last minute the race was postponed while a new course was flagged (a contingency plan had already been developed, knowing rain was on the forecast). Due to the reroute, it meant that we would not have access to our drop bogs. They had already been hauled up Gooseberry Mesa and the road was so bad that no one could get up or down it to retrieve them and bring them to the new 55k aid station on Hurricane and Smith Mesa. Previously, I have carried too much stuff in my pack during races. But with three 50ks under my belt, I was feeling more confident about knowing exactly what I would need and when/where I would need it. So, I put significantly less stuff in my pack and planned to strategically use my drop bag. Finding out I wouldn’t have access to it was a big blow. Already worried about my hip and foot/ankle, and knowing what a nightmare that clay/mud can be (read here), I lost the mental battle before the race even started. I dropped down to the half marathon distance. (Side note: they ended up getting up to retrieve the drop bags and did get them over to the new course, so I could have had it. Oh well).
The 55k start was postponed twice, eventually kicking off at 8:00 instead of 6:00. I had spent the 2 hours huddled with the other runners in tents, trying to avoid getting too wet. When it came time for the race (the 55k!) to start, I didn’t even think twice. I took off with the rest. Unbeknownst to me, the half marathon didn’t start for another hour. Oops!
In any case, off I went up and across the desert to the northwest. The trail – an ATV 4×4 road – was in horrible shape. On flat sections it was a struggle to stay up right. On inclines and declines, it was darn near impossible. I didn’t fall, but was taking it pretty slow. If you were trying to really run it, I would anticipate a lot of spills. To make it worse, the clay stuck to your shoes so when you finally climbed up or down below the sedimentary layer of clay and hit some normal dirt, you were trying to run with 5 lb ankle weight of mud caked to your shoes. I scraped it off a couple times, but eventually gave up. I was a good inch taller though with it on my soles!
The route went 4 miles to Hurricane Mesa Road – an old asphalt road – on which we climbed about 2.5 miles to the top. There was an aid station and the turnaround point for the half marathon. As I climbed up the road and neared the aid station I realized that no half marathon runners had hit the turnaround and passed me going back down the road. That’s when it hit me. I had accidentally started with the 55k an hour early. Ha!
I turned around and headed back down the road, making a great 2 mile split. On the way everyone was giving me thumbs up and “heck yeah!”s and “good job”! and they tried to figure out who I was and how I was already on my way back so quickly. A few assumed I had given up and was heading back, giving me a conciliatory frown, but then quizzical look as they wondered why I was running so fast and fresh if I was quitting. Partway down I saw the actual half marathon runners on their way up. I told them good job and said they were in the lead. I don’t know if they understood me. I hope it didn’t freak them out. Here they are, thinking they were winning the race and some dude comes flying down the road ahead of them.
I trudged the 4 miles back to the start/finish, half expecting the actual half marathon winners to catch up with me and finish ahead, but they didn’t quite catch me. People really cheered at the finish but I quickly explained – nope. I didn’t win, I just accidentally started an hour early. The actual winner came in about 5 minutes later! So he almost did catch me.
I finished in 2:34:00 for 26th place out of 88 finishers.
The winner did it in 1:38. I don’t know how they moved that fast across the mud.
Wow.
For Extra Credit, I went and ran Angels Landing afterwards. In the rain. It was spectacular.
Monument Valley 50k was my first ultra of the season (and my 3rd, following the Antelope Island Fall Classic and Bryce 50k’s last year). Perennially under-trained and quasi-injured as ever, I was a bit anxious for this one. However, this was to be a special race. It is run within the Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, largely on trails and back-roads only accessible with Navajo guides. Moreover, the course allows access to the top of Mitchell Mesa which gives some amazing views, albeit with abandoned uranium mines. From its northeast overlook, you get a view that is hard to beat. In any case, I was determined to walk the course if that’s what it took. I spent a lot of time taking picture instead of running, a select few are below.
It is part of Ultra Adventures’ Grand Circle Trail Series, for which I’m volunteering as an ambassador this year. Matt Gunn and his crew put on such good events. Wow.
The race started at sunrise. Local Navajos gave everyone a pinch of white corn meal to sprinkle eastward towards the rising sun, while Navajo prayer blessing was offered. Then, we were off, running down from the starting line at the View Hotel campground.
We ran down IR 42 about 3.5 miles to the course aid station at the foot of the Three Sisters formation. I had to grab a couple things from my drop bag, but tried to head out quick on the first loop.
The loop was about 5 miles, putting us back at the aid station by about mile 8.5. It went across some great single track with spectacular views. Also, we got a taste of some of the sandy terrain we had been warned of.
Back at the aid station, I swapped out my bandanna, put on a tank top and applied some sunscreen. The next loop was 10 miles and I knew it was heating up.This loop headed on a dirt road for a few miles and then transitioned to desert paths of deep soul-sucking sand. Oh man. It was slow going. I teamed up with a couple runners along the way, boosting spirits as we chatted. But man, the sand was rough. It was slow and it cut the efficiency of each stride – lots of energy wasted pushing sand. It went on for miles and every time we finally hit good dirt, the sand came back. Thankfully, there were some really cool rock formations and arches to behold.
We returned to the Three Sisters aid station again at mile 18. I was feeling a bit hot, but my energy levels seemed good. Again, I took more time at the aid station that I would have liked. Finally, refueled and supplied another runner I had met on the arches loop, Julie, said “Run out together?” That sounded great. I knew this next portion, miles 18-28, would be the hardest but also potentially the most rewarding. After about 2 miles of sand and washes, we arrived at the south side of Mitchell Mesa.
The picture doesn’t do it justice, but it look so tall. IT was about a 1,000 foot climb of 1 mile of trail. Rocky, steep, hot. The breeze that had been saving us earlier was coming from the north, so on the south side of the mesa, the air was still. And hot. Already 21 miles in, this climb was brutal, maybe one of the hardest things I’ve ever done – at least it felt that way at the time.
Once at the top of Mitchell Mesa we ran about a half mile north to an overlook. The view was breathtaking. I spent a few moments trying to take it in. But, as the pictures below demonstrate, you scope of the landscape is hard to take in.
I was worried about the descent. Coming up I saw how rocky it was and have been prone to roll ankles. To make matters worse, both of my quads began to cramp. After turning around at the overlook the slight decline to the south trail felt great. I picked up the pace and was excited to be moving at a good clip. However, I must have been low on electrolytes because I cramped right around the rim. They spasmed on the way down, but I made good time. The footing wasn’t as sketchy as I had thought it would be. At the bottom, I filled my water at the water drop they had put there and made ok time for a portion of the return to Three Sisters. Some sandy sections slowed me quite a bit but I eventually made it back to the Aid Station. I got some ice in my bottle and hydration pack and headed off on the road for the last 3.5 miles to the finish.
It rolled a bit, up and down, but ended with a series of very steep pitches. Not fun. I crossed the finish at a jog, 7:11:24. Without the sand, I think I could have dropped a good 45 minutes off that. I tried out new nutrition and it had worked great. Tailwind in my hydration pack and Sport Legs. A lactic acid supplement that is supposed to reduce muscle soreness. Perhaps it was the placebo effect, but my legs never got to the level of soreness that I usually get above 20 miles. So, that experiment was a success. As for the cramps, that was only after swapping out Tailwind (which has salt) for a bottle of Perpetuem as my main calorie source climbing the Mesa. I switched just to have a change in flavor, but forgot to add Salt Stick pills. Lesson learned.
In the end the race was great. It beat me up and the sand sucked so much more energy out of me than I anticipated.
Now, to recover and get ready for the Zion 55k in 3 weeks!
Last year around this time I joined a large group run to the San Rafael to run the Good Water Rim Trail at The Wedge. I was hooked. This year another big group ventured down – about 30 of us – and it was great.
For the first 9 miles I tried to focus on keeping a steady pace – not going out too strong. I thought I was going more conservative than last time, when I felt I started too fast and then bonked. Looking at my splits, my 10 min/mile pace this time was a lot faster than last time. Oh well. It felt pretty good. At the 9 mile aid station I felt a lot stronger than last time (with the exception of a rolled ankle and hot spots on both feet – they never blistered, thankfully, but I was worried). I was just a couple minutes behind the lead group and stayed a few minutes behind them for the next 7 miles to the east overlook. Mostly, I ran solo. But that was fine. The scenery is spectacular. The east 7 miles are a lot rougher trail and that wore on me. I slowed, alternating running with fast walking for a 10th of a mile here and there. At the 16 mile overlook I jumped out to the road and followed it the 5.5 miles around and back to the start just like last time. By the end, my energy levels felt really good but my legs were just shot. So sore. Thankfully, no cramping though. I tried out fueling with just tailwind and it felt great. I popped a couple extra salt tabs when it warmed up. And, I mixed a bottle of perpetuem for the last 2 miles, but didn’t end up drinking much of it.
As explained HERE, I did some fundraising for the Syrian refugee crisis by running a track race and having people pledge $ per lap. It was painful, but great. We raised a little of $1,200.
Held at the Olympic Oval, the track goes around the speed-skating track. It was fun watching Olympic medal winners zoom around as we labored slowly around the 344 meter track. This was the longest I have ever run flat. I was on pace to hit my 100 lap goal by the 2.5 hour halfway point, but then slowed considerably. Muscle fatigue, cramps by lap 70, IT band pain by lap 80. I made it 24.2 miles – 88 laps.
It was fun chatting with some fellow Wasatch Mountain Wranglers along the way. A good way to start out the year.
It hurt, but it was worth it. My two 50k finishes have now taught a number of important lessons. Foremost among them is this:
I can finish 50k ultra-marathons without much training, but it’ll hurt. Next time, train.
This was my 2nd ultra-marathon. You can read about my first, the Bryce 50k, and my thoughts about doing it again here.
Saturday started a bit chilly, with a slight breeze. I chose to just wear a long sleeve tech-tee (later a tank-top), some cheep gloves, a Buff bandana (later a plain red cowboy one), and a Patagonia Houdini windbreaker that I just love. On my feet I had my Altra Lone Peak 2.0s (2nd pair!), Injini trail socks, Altra gators, and some Zensah compression calf sleeves. For my pack and nutrition, I chose my Nathan VaporWrap with water, some Clif ShotBloks, SaltStick Caps, and an Ultimate Direction 20 oz. bottle with 2 hours worth of Hammer Perpetuem in it. My plan was to refill it with mix a couple times at aid stations. Finally, I got some good use out of my new Suunto Ambit2 gps watch. Love it! I could have shed the windbreaker by mile 2. Thankfully it doesn’t weigh much so having it in my pack wasn’t a problem.
I thought that I went out fairly conservative, knowing there were a lot of miles ahead. As it would turn out, I clocked PRs on all of the strava segments down to Split Rock Bay. Oops. I guess the excitement of race day got the best of me. As usual, my legs felt a bit stiff for the first few miles, but once I dropped down onto the bone road and climbed up lone tree hill to the Elephant Head aid station, I was feeling loose and good.
There, I made the mistake of asking the volunteers how many miles it was to the next aid station. I should have just memorized the miles they were all at, or written it on my arm with a sharpie. In any case, they said it was 4.5 mile. I had another hours worth of Perpetuem in my bottle, so I didn’t mix a new one. As it turns out, it was 9 miles. Oh well. It wasn’t too hot and I had some Clif ShotBloks, so I survived.
After Elephant Head, there is a nice 1+ mile downhill to Split Rock Bay. I didn’t want to blast my quads too bad, but knew that the downhills are where I could pad my time and augment my generally slow pace along the flats. I made it to the bottom, and continued to feel good as I worked my way south, and up the switchbacks to the saddle where we cross into the southwest side of Antelope Island.
Up to this point, it was all trail I had done before, but before I turned north here to return along the spring Buffalo Run 25k course to Elephant Head and White Rock Bay. I had never traversed the saddle to drop into this section of the island. It was gorgeous. However, right as I started to descend back towards the shoreline, an all too familiar pain in BOTH KNEES came out of nowhere. IT (Iliotibial) Bands. NOOO! I hadn’t had IT band problems for over 0 months (last January)! I was sitting at about mile 8 with 23 more to go. I couldn’t believe it. I hoped that with careful posture, some breaks for stretching, etc… I would be able to manage it. I picked my way down the hill and it was just excruciating.
So much for making good time on the downhills! Once down at the shoreline, the doubletrack degraded a bit into loose rock, sand, etc… for a couple miles until pushing up a 1,000+ ft. climb to the Sentry Peak aid station.
On the climb, the pain went away and I made good progress, passing a number of people. I ate a bit, stretched, mixed another bottle of Perpetuem and got some more water. Then, I headed south towards the shark fin looking peaks. The pain immediately returned on my knees and I knew I was in for trouble. Still 17 miles to go. Quickly, the trail cut east and descended over the ridge and down to the east side of the island. I could see the “ranch” down below and hadn’t realized how high we had climbed. The dirt road down was in good shape, and normally, this would have been my strongest section of the course. It was a 3 mile downhill, dropping about 1,000 feet total. Not too steep to be unrunnable, but steep enough to make really good time. IT Band pain, however, is at its worst on downhills, and wow, it was bad. I limped my way down a lot of it, wincing when the pitch went especially steep. At the bottom, I came up on a runner from Wyoming and we shared a mile or so together going into the Ranch.
The flat hurt my knees, but was bearable. At this point, I knew that there were any more major long downhill sections. The remainder of our course was the Mountain View 1/2 marathon course that had started an hour after our 50k. So. I had a 1/2 marathon ahead of me of flat-ish trail, lots of soft up and down rolling miles. I wasn’t feeling good, but thought I could make it. I alternated between running slowly (9-12 min/mile pace) and speed-walking (13-14 min/mile pace). I would run for 60 seconds until the pain was too much, then speed-walk aggressively to give my knees a break. That’s the dumb thing about IT Band pain. It can be unbearable at even a slow running pace, but the moment you switch to a walking gait – the pain disappears. In any case, the walking saved me. For the last 13 miles, I average about a 13 min/mile pace. I am not fast on flat miles, but this is much slower than I had hoped to go. With the exception of the slow descent from Sentry, I had been clocking faster splits than I had hoped for. And, had I continued for the last 13 at my previous pace, I would have finished close to the 6 hour mark – WAY faster than I had planned or hoped. But, it didn’t pan out that way and I had to swallow my pride as a lot of people passed me over the next 13 miles. Often, they would pass as I walked and then I would catch back up to them as I ran, and so on. In a way, this made it even harder to swallow. I knew that if my knees would allow, I would be running at a pace faster than most of them – doing the passing rather than being passed. I have no pretensions about being a good runner and was out there to simply beat myself, not them, but feeling strong and moving up in the pack feels good. I knew that I should have been, but just couldn’t oh well.
At about mile 20.5 I hit the wonderful 9 Mile aid station where I had a drop bag. I switched my long sleeve shirt for a tank top and swapped my buff for a fresh bandana. I remixed a Perpetuem bottle, ate a tiny bit, and was off. In all, I think I was there about 7-8 minutes, my longest aid station stop by far. But, my legs felt so fresh on my way out. Wow. What a difference that made. I soldiered on to the Lower Frary aid station where my good friend Matt Van Horn (MVH!) was waiting. He pushed me along for about 5.5 miles, literally running circles around me. He would run ahead, then run back to me and go way behind, then turn around and pass me and run ahead again. I hated him for goading me on, but was also so grateful. It was wonderful to have a smiling face. I’m sure he got sick of my perma-scowl as I tried to wince through the pain.
After hitting the fence-line and climbing up and over to the east side of the island at mile 28-ish, I told Matt to continue on to the finish and tell my family I was on my way. To make the course a full 50k, the RD looped our route north of the finish on the paved road a bit, then west down to the the dirt road along the lower campsites, then back south to the fence and up to the finish. The pavement hurt, especially on the downhill. But, with the finish line literally in sight, I tried to push. My family was waiting, lots of cheers, and my 5 year old boy even joined me to cross the finish line.
I finished in 6:45. That was 32 minutes faster than my Bryce 50k time. However, this was a much easier course. UltraSignup gives your performance a % ranking of how well you did against the top finisher. My 7:17 finish at Bryce put me at 61%, placing 30th out of 90 runners. My 6:45 at Antelope Island put me at 53%, placing 119th out of 199 runners. In the back of my head, I had sub-7 hours as a goal, so I am very glad to have done that. I can’t help but feel regret that my knees didn’t cooperate with the rest of my body. My legs were trashed by the end, but I feel that I could have gone another 30-45 minutes faster if the IT bands hadn’t been a problem. That would have put me in 80-90th place, with a 6:00-6:15 time. Well…I guess there’s always next year!
In the end, I am frustrated but grateful that I was able to push through and finish.
I was in Flagstaff for a conference this week and had a free morning before the events started. How could I not venture over to the Grand Canyon?!
It was my first time and it did not disappoint. I started at the South Kaibab trailhead right around dawn and bombed on down. I had the trail mostly to myself, only passing a few hikers who must have caught an earlier shuttle to the trailhead.
The early morning light was just gorgeous. The red rock and green vegetation all seemed to take a deeper hue than was natural. The midday sun later washed the colors out quite a bit more. I had been warned that the trail was not terribly runnable – and much of it was not. It is hard to get a good rhythm or use a natural gait or stride between all of the wooden log steps, rocky terrain, etc… I did luck out in that rain from the previous days had left the trail nice and soft. Very little mud going down South Kaibab, just soft, slightly-moist, dirt. Also, a TON of mule dung. I have since been told that when the trail dries out, clouds of mule-dung-dust billow up with every step and you end up inhaling a lot of it. Yuck.
At 3 miles, I hit Skeleton Point and paused to take off some layers. At the trailhead it was chilly and I had a long sleeve shirt and windbreaker on. Those both went into my pack and I continued on in just a tank-top. It was still a BIT chilly (so I left my gloves on) but I was moving enough to be sweating and it felt nice to shed the layers.
I continued past Skeleton Point, down the switchbacks and then actually hit some nice runnable trail for a while as it wraps around to the left. I was pushing, hoping to catch up to the mules at The Tipoff, where I knew I would be allowed to pass them quickly. Unfortunately, I got waylaid taking picture of the morning light streaming in from behind some clouds to the east.
I did not catch them at The Tip-Off. There were some early hikers there, Japanese – I think, and they gave me VERY weird looks as I cruised by. I don’t know if it was because I was running or because I was wearing a tank-top at 7:30 AM. In any case, I continued on, finally catching the mules a bit later. They had me keep my distance until there was a wide spot in the trail. It only slowed me down for about 10 minutes – not bad.
After passing the mules (and another mule train heading UP) I started to notice how hot it was getting as I neared the canyon bottom. And HUMID! I could feel the humidity in the air – like a mist. Then, I looked up and saw what the sunlight and humidity was creating.
DOUBLE RAINBOW!!!
I crossed over the Colorado River on the black suspension bridge, and then ran up to Phantom Ranch for a VERY refreshing lemonade. I think it upset my stomach a bit, but it sure was tasty. I crossed back over the river on the Silver Bridge and started up the Bright Angel Trail.
After the bridge, you run along the River Trail, downstream. It felt great to actually open up my stride and RUN, albeit slowly.
By the time I hit the canyon where the Bright Angel Trail starts to climb, I was feeling the effects of the heat and humidity. For the next 3 miles, as I climbed up to Indian Garden I was sweating more profusely than I have in my entire life. It was, literally, a constant stream of drips off my brow and down my face. I refilled my waters, mixed a new bottle of perpetuem and soldiered on. At this point, 5+ miles and a few thousand feet of climbing left, I hit the mental state where you just want to get the thing done.
The psychology of this run was unique. I am used to running UP mountains, and then coming back down. Even if you are tired and wasted from the climb, the descent is always easier. Doing it in reverse was a mind-trip. Within a mile after leaving Indian Garden you get a view of the remainder of the climb ahead and it really sinks in what you’re going to have to do.
With about 3 miles of climbing left, the clouds that had been threatening to rain all day settled in and started to drizzle. It actually felt GREAT! I was overheating as I tried to make a strong steady power hike up. The cooling drizzle, however, quickly turned into a torrential downpour. This continued on and off for most of the remaining climb. I considered putting my windbreaker on, but just kept pushing. At this point, I was seeing a LOT of people. Going up, coming down, lots of day-hikers and back-packers. All of them giving me weird looks as I hiked past in my tank top, soaked to the bone. The rain made the hiking more difficult as the trail turned into a stream. Trying to keep along the edges of the trail to avoid the water slowed me down a bit. Worse, however, were the muscle cramps that started up. First, both of my calves started to cramp and spasm. Then, both of my quads. I thought I had kept up on my electrolytes, but perhaps I had fallen behind with all of the sweating. Or, perhaps it was just fatigue. In any case, I soldiered on.
Right at the top (1/4 mile left) I caught up to the only other runner I had seen all day – and the only person to pass me all day. In the days preceding the run, I had posted on a R2R2R facebook group for some advice and one other runner, Sierra, commented that she might do it too that day. Down at the river, I had seen her coming out of the restroom as I was going in, but didn’t make the connection that it might be Sierra. Then, part way up to Indian Garden, I passed her as she was sitting on the side of the trail taking some salt capsules. Later, she RAN past me and I finally realized who it might be. I called out and asked if she was from the FB group, and sure enough it was. “Oh yeah,” she said, “You said you’d be in a red bandana! See you at the top.” At that point, she was actually running, and I was just power hiking, so I doubted I would “see her at the top.” However, in that last 1/4 mile I did catch up to her. Her legs were cramping too. We hiked it out and shared the shuttle back to our cars. I wish I would have caught her earlier, as having a hiking companion up those last 3 miles in the rain would have been nice!
What a day! With the stop and rest at Phantom Ranch, the whole thing took me about 5.5 hours, which was faster than I had estimated it would take me. The Grand Canyon is a MUST-SEE / MUST-DO location for trail runners. However, it is actually not very good terrain/trails for trail running. I’m sure I’ll do it again though!
I have run 1/2 marathon distances a number of times, but never on pavement. It has always been on trails and going mountain pace.
I attempted this a week ago, but got rained out.
So, I tried again. This time I started at Big Springs Park and ran down to Orem. It was great for the first 9 miles – nice easy pace. I’m not fast. But then the last 4 were hot and exposed. Why did I do this in the middle of the day?!
Local legend and 17-18-time Wasatch 100 finisher and friend Phil asked me to pace him for the last 25 miles of the Wasatch. I thought that might be a bit more than I could handle, so he said, how about the 14 miles from Big Mountain to Alexander Ridge to Lambs Canyon. It is the hottest and most exposed section of trail and Phil was pushing for a sub-24 finish. This would push me to my limit, and he knew it would be tough for me, but I thought I could do it.
I was wrong.
It was a very hot day. I kept with Phil for the first 4 miles or so. I led up through Mule’s Ear Meadow and up to Bald Mountain. Then, he started to pull ahead on climbs, and I would catch up on downhills. We yo-yo’d to Pence Point. That was fine with me. I’m a better downhill-er than climber. That’s not news. The heat was really getting to me, but I felt that with some ice down my pack, I could continue on. But then on our way down ball-bearing hill, I rolled my right ankle – 3 times. It has been weak for a while and I have rolled it every couple weeks or so. Quickly, the distance between Phil and me grew. Then, as I was placing more and more weight awkwardly on my good left ankle, I rolled it. It made an audible pop. My stomach was already uneasy from the heat and exertion and the burst of pain doubled me over and I puked. A second, less severe, roll on the left ankle soon followed. I limped my way to Alexander Ridge. Phil was already gone.
I felt horrible. I sat for about 5-10 minutes, cooled down and then limped out. The ankles ended up walking off a lot better than I thought they would. By the time I got to Lambs Canyon, about 20 minutes behind Phil, they were sore, but I was jogging on them. Looking back, I suspect that even without the ankles slowing me down, the heat may have forced me to tell Phil to go on with out me. I think I could have hung with him a bit through, probably dropping on the long exposed climb out of Alexander Ridge on the Sheep Trail.
You know what hurt worse? My pride. And this is saying something, because I make no pretensions at being a good runner. I’m always touting my weaknesses and blunders. So, maybe it wasn’t my pride that hurt. Maybe it was just the shame of feeling like I had really let someone down. Phil had placed some trust in me, and I had let him down. I know he did it with the hoping of boosting my running experience, and grooming me to do Wasatch myself some day. Perhaps, he asked me to pace him more as an opportunity to give me a good learning experience than to benefit from my being there.
In any case, it wasn’t the best day.
However, it WAS a lot of fun to be out on the course and see people out there. When I arrived at Lambs Canyon the Wasatch Mountain Wranglers were out in force! And, they even cheered me a bit and told me to keep my chin up as I limped in, head hanging low. Those smiling faces actually meant a lot. There I was, proving that I could NOT hang with the best of them, and they were slapping me on the back and saying it was great to see me nonetheless. Good people.
So, to Phil. Thank you and I’m sorry. It was both a great and horrible experience.
This morning I embarked on an “easy” route. Starting at the Timpooneke Campground (after being driven up there by Chris, THANKS!) I took the Great Western all the way around the West side of the Mt. Timpanogos ridge-line, back and behind Big and Little Baldy and down to Orem. It was fantastic.
First, you climb a fairly rocky trail for a mile, placing you at the affectionately named “Julie Andrews Meadow.”
Then, the trail parallels the Timpooneke Rd., crossing it various times, diving down and climbing up hills and ridges full of aspen and conifers. Just gorgeous.
Besides some GI distress, these were great miles. At this point, the GW also doubles as the Timpooneke-Chris Flats Trail Nr. 151. It eventually took me all the way to Grove Creek Springs – where I refilled my water – and then to Chris Flats.
On my way down to the Battle Creek Trail junction, 2 ladies with 2 boxers came around the corner and the unleashed dogs got very aggressive. It was scary and I had some choice words for them. Sheesh. If your dogs are trained to stay back, keep them on a leash.
From there, the GW climbs up to the Big Baldy Saddle, back behind Little Baldy, and then down to the rock-pile Altar I have frequented a few times recently. Instead of taking my normal descent route, I kept on the GW, which popped me out on the Aqueduct Rd. about 1 mile east of where I normally come out. By this point it was hot and I was beat. It was a long few miles to my car, which was parked at the Orem Gun Range.
When I got to my car, I had hit 18.7 miles. I decided to add the extra mile and a half for an even 20. It may have not been worth it. It was not a fun 1.5 miles.
Overall, it was a fantastic route. The only real problem was that for much of it the tall grass and wildflowers and other vegetation was so tall and thick that it was leaning over and covering the trail. This made it hard to see your footing and led to a few stumbles.
Perhaps it would be best undertaken in the Spring, before it all grows too high.
Mt. Timpanogos is one of the more famous hikes/summits here in the Wasatch, especially in Utah County. Somehow, I never did it back in the early-2000s when an undergrad. This morning I resolved to correct this grievous oversight with an early morning summit before work.
I hit the Timpooneke trail at about 5:45 solo. Some trails a “ok,” but worth it because they get you to a beautiful destination. This trail was gorgeous every step of the way. I jogged and power-hiked up, slowed only by the need to snap pictures, and groan from some early-AM stomach issues.
s I made the climb up to the saddle I saw 3 people waiting at the ridge. As I approached, they waved and called my name. It was Mel, Lori, and Zac on their double-summit attempt (up Aspen Grove to the Summit, down to the Timpooneke trailhead and then turning around to do it all in reverse. They almost did it, but had to bail on the 2nd summit as a t-storm and lightning rolled in as they approach the saddle later in the day to scramble up for the 2nd summit. Bummer). In any case it was awesome to see some friendly and familiar faces. We summited together, took some pictures, complained about how windy and cold it was up top, and then scrambled back down to the saddle.
I saw another friend, Phil, on his way up for the upteenth time this week (this time with his kids in tow). A couple other Wasatch Mountain Wranglers also passed as we headed down and they headed up. I moved ahead of the trio as they too pictures and chatted – figuring they would catch up. They didn’t. But, WMW Jack did and we ran the last 2-3 miles together chatting.
Including some messing around up top, it took me about 4:20. Not bad. I hope to shave some time off next time I tackle it.
It was a gorgeous day. Just perfect. I’m already plotting to attach it again next week.
Well, it’s done. I finally ran an ultramarathon. The Bryce 50k is in the bag!
Distance: 30.7 miles
Elevation gain: ~ 5,349
Time: 7:17:34
Place: 30 out of 86 (100+ started but not all finished)
Other than a couple Ragnar Relays, I have run two 5ks and one 5 mile race. As adventure runs, I have gone 20+ miles a handful of times, and over 26.3 only once – none in the race context however. In other words, I not only have little experience in running 50k, but no experience in running a true trail race. I don’t have background experience in pacing myself, fueling, dropbags, aid stations, competing, etc… Also, recently re-flaring stress fractures on both fibulas and a bruising or strained muscle on the sole of my right foot and the general craziness of having just started a new job, bought my first house, and moved my family in the past couple months (and being lazy), my training had not gone well.
Thus, I was elated with finishing and the general good time and results. Hallelujah! The only real trouble, in the last 10 miles, was a clear result of my lack of training and experience. The next time I tackle a 50k, I am confident that I could improve my time by quite a bit.
My sister-in-law Rachael was also running her first 50k and we both got some cabins at Ruby’s Inn – arriving the night before the race. The morning of, we boarded a bus at 7:00 that took us to the starting line at Tropic campground. While walking to the bus I heard some weird noise that I eventually figured out was friend Phil Lowry calling me. It was good to see a familiar face.
At the start, the weather was a bit chilly with a chance for rain. Mid-40s. I was hoping to make it through rain free, but still wore a windbreaker over my short sleeve shirt (it came off within a few miles, though my gloves stayed on a bit longer). Race Director Matt Gunn said a few words, wished us luck and gave us a countdown from 5. We were off – climbing up through the campground, past several bathrooms I felt like I needed to use, and finally onto a single track. I was taking it slow, middle of the pack. Once on the single track, we climbed about 250 feet over the course of 3/4 mile and then dropped back down 250 feet down in a 1/2 mile to a dirt road.
I was stuck in a conga line on the up and down, and once on the road, I slowly started moving up, passing a few people. This was about mile 2, and the road climbed ~1,000 feet over the next 4 miles. Here, my background in climbing up the steep trails of Davis County proved useful. On the long climb, I picked an aggressive power hiking pace and kept it steady. I was surprised to find myself passing a number of people who were trying to jog the climb. I just power-hiked past. At mile 6, the climb gave way to a 500 ft. descent to the Blue Fly Aid Station. On the drop I passed a couple more that were being a bit more ginger on the descent. I didn’t want to blow my legs out, but just relaxed, leaned forward and tried to let gravity do most of the work. It felt great.
At BFAS I filled a bottle with 20 oz of water and mixed with the serving of Perpetuem I had carried in the empty bottle. So excited to be feeling so great, I didn’t top off my water bladder, or get any food or gels from the AS. Oops. I did take a few shots of tailwind though. Then I was off. The immediate descent – another 500 ft. in about 1 mile of trail out of Blue Fly was gorgeous with some nice modest hoodoos.
It was also nice to have some single track, although much of it was a deep rut with us running in the grass beside it. I stopped to tighten a shoe and a girl from Colorado that I had passed on the climb passed me, hollering back that she would see me soon when I passed her on the next climb. I caught up on the descent and as we exited onto another dirt road at mile 9. We chatted briefly and then I pushed ahead at a very modest pace on the flat road, switching back to aggressive power hikes when the climbs came.
2.5 miles and ~750 feet of climbing eventually brought us to the intersection with the 50 and 100 mile race routes, which we would share for the remaining 20 miles.
At the junction I encountered a hundred miler being limped along by two women. The female runner was in terrible shape and they asked the time relay ahead that they were bringing her in. It was sobering to see what a 100 mile race can do to a person, both physically and emotionally. A dire warning.
The next 5.5 miles to Proctor Canyon AS were gorgeous. Single track, meadows, some aspen and cottonwood, etc… I was cruising, but got waylaid for a good 5 minutes when my phone (which I use to track my GPS) died and I had to plug it in to my little charger and reboot it.
At the Proctor Canyon AS – mile 16.5 – I had a drop bag with more Perpetuem mix to last the rest of the race. I added more water to my bladder, reapplied some body glide and sunscreen, dropped my windbreaker and gloves in the drop bag and ate a few of the boiled potatoes they had there. It took me a long time. While there, a number of the people I had previous passed caught up and left before me. Lesson learned – having a crew makes aid stations much faster. Also, have a preset plan and order for what you are going to do at the aid station.
Out of the aid station there was a steep climb, where I caught back up to some of the people I had been leapfrogging, pushed pass the, and waited for the end of the climb. It came pretty quick, and then the trail descended down through forest. It was great single track, though a bit steep in a few places. The trail climbed up over some red sand hills. It was like a rouge-hued moonscape. Very cool.
By the time I reached the Thunder Mountain AS at mile 22.5 it had heated up and I was feeling the miles. From there on out, things deteriorated quick. My lack of training and experience in running these distances manifested themselves. Immediately out of the AS there was a steep steep climb. Near the top, I realized that I had forgotten to fill my water. Uh oh.
At mile 24.5 the trail hit the bottom of Red Canyon and the scenery was spectacular. Wow.
Unfortunately, it also commenced a 2.5 mile climb with 800 feet. My heart rate was spiking high, I was getting light headed, and then my quads and one shin started cramping. For me cramping is usually an electrolyte deficiency, but I had thought I had kept up on it. So, I popped a few extra salt tabs over 30 minutes or so. Unfortunately, I think this made my fingers swell – to an uncomfortable level. Here, one runner I had passed earlier caught up and charged past looking strong.
Near the top it started to hail. Small hail, but annoying and it stung. The remainder of the course constituted of 18 (Zac Marion counted) in and out of little canyons. You crest a ridge, descent down into a small canyon, cross over the bottom, climb back out the other side to crest the ridge separating it from the next canyon. Repeat 18 times. My cramps were bad, the hail was not fun, my fingers hurt (and hips and feet). I was so ready to be done.
With about 1/4 mile left, I saw someone on the trail ahead of me that looked like my former neighbor, Matt Van Horn. He had won the 1/2 marathon earlier and came out to run me to the finish. I hiked it. He went ahead to a ridge and said – this is it, run it in! I didn’t believe him. When I crested it, I was relieved to see the finish line. I ran down, crossed the finish line, clenched my fists and yelled. Hugged my wife, high five’d a few friends, wandered about wondering what to do next…
I felt like something between these two pictures:
What an experience. What a beautiful course. What a rush. Matt Gunn and UltraAdventures and all of his crew put on a great event!
This is the first true sporting event / serious physical challenge goal I have made as an adult. I am so glad I pushed through and finished it. Now…which long adventure run or race do I do next?
After running the Good Water Rim Trail at the Wedge area of the San Rafael Swell on President’s Day I immediately resolved to do a follow-up run at the canyon bottom. Today a few other Wasatch Mtn. Wranglers joined me on the adventure.
Overall it was a fairly “flat” route. 22+ miles, but only about 1,850 ft. elevation gain. That didn’t mean it was easy though. Those 1,800+ ft. were concentrated in a medium, small, and BIG traverse over ridges and cliffs between drainages. Check out the velo map below:
I was joined by 3 other brave souls – Dee, Ryan and Tyler. I had met Dee and Ryan briefly on other occasions, but not Tyler. They were all awesome, total troopers, and it was great to get to know them all better. Plus, they kept their cursing of me for dragging them on the trip to a minimum.
We hit the trail around 8:30-9:00. As usual, I felt sluggish. The first few miles are always the worst for me.
At about mile 3.5 we hit our first climb. It is right at the intersection of Cane Wash (coming from the south) and the San Rafael River. We would loop by here later, so we made a water drop. The river bends south and I think it gets too close to the cliffs on our north side for there to be a trail. So, the trail climbs over a nice sized knife-edge ridge.
From there, we continued along the river…missing the turn off for Virgin Spring Canyon. We doubled back a 1/2 mile and found it. This was the 2nd climb, and a minor one. The trail traversed along the east wall of the canyon – a ways up from the floor. This is probably because it hits a dead end that you’d need gear to climb. Once we passed that dead drop, the trail descended down to the canyon floor.
We misjudged where we needed to exit the canyon, and wasted a few minutes going up a side canyon BEFORE the one we needed.
After returning back to the canyon, conferring with map and continuing on, we saw the exit ramp we needed. A large boulder slide. If not for the cairns that led us up the south side of the canyon and gave us confidence that it was the right canyon – we wouldn’t have taken it. From the bottom (or the middle, or even almost to the top) it was hard to see how we would get out. Up south canyon wall, across to the boulder slide ramp, and finally a ledge near the top where we found another large cairn. Hallelujah. We followed that ledge around to the right (south) and eventually found more cairns leading us up to the top. From there, we could look down (east) into Cane Wash.
Again, it was 100% unclear how in the world we would descend the cliffs. Thankfully, my cell coverage returned at the top of the cliff and I could check the strava route I had drawn previously. Following that, we worked our way south, down a few drops and switchbacks (occasionally seeing cairns) and eventually to the canyon floor. Looking back up, it was hard to believe we had navigated our way down.
At this point, we descended Cane Wash back to the San Rafael River. Tyler wanted to move a bit faster and took off back to the car. Unbeknownst to us – he was also out of water, and eager to get back to his car and the waters and beer he had on ice. Good call Tyler.
Dee, Ryan and I made our way down Cane Wash and the deep sand was neverending. Oh man. I hated that sand. Dee ran out of water on our descent so I shared what was left in my bladder. Ryan caught up with Dee and I at the water drop where we were guzzling in the shade. Then, we took off for the last 3.5 miles to the car. It was only in the mid-70s, but felt so much hotter in the sun. I made it to the cars first, with Dee not far behind (fighting leg cramps, ouch!), and then Ryan.
In all, it was a really fun time. Doing it again would be so much easier, knowing exactly where to go. As a bonus, check out some of the stuff along Buckhorn Wash Rd. on your way down:
I probably should have drawn an easier route for my first attempt at a marathon distance run – but it is just too easy (and fun) to draw lines on maps, tracing trails and ridge-lines, etc… In any case, I drew it, so I ran it: The South Mountain Western Ridges Marathon+. In all, it ended up tracking to 29 miles – almost a 50k. Phoenix’s South Mountain Preserve is located on the southern edge of town – a series of parallel ridges and valleys, lots of exposed rock, lost of Saguaro, cholla, barrel, yucca, and other cactus varieties, brutally hot in the summer, but quite pleasant in the winter. The temperature topped out at around 70 degrees. That feels quite a bit warmer than it sounds though, when you’re out baking in it.
For the attempt, I wore my Altra Lone Peak 2.0s, new Altra trail gaiters, Injinji smartwool toe socks, a trusty red bandanna around my forehead, a new Nathan VaporWrap pack with its 2 liter bladder full, 2 Ultimate Direction 20 oz. bottles in the front two chest strap pockets – one with water, the other with 2 single serving packets of Hammer Perpetuem mixed with water, some Cliff Shotblocks, a CliffBar, a small first-aid kit and sunscreen, an extra pair of Injinji socks, Salt Stick tablets to balance my electrolytes, my iPhone and a little charger to recharge it mid-run, and a pair of Black Diamond FL Z Poles strapped on the back. Now that I list it all out – that seems like a LOT of stuff. The pack did seem a bit heavy, but this was all self-supported with no aid stations, so I wanted to be prepared. Wait, I lied. The night before I dropped off 2 liters of water in the desert (by bike) around the mid-way point of the route.
I started at about 7:15 AM when the sun was up and it was light enough to see. I could have started earlier, but then would have had to pack a headlamp around the whole time.
I started at the trail-head at the western terminus of Chandler boulevard, and headed NE towards my first ridge climb – up the Pyramid Trail.
This is one section I had done before, and I took an easy pace. I had to remind myself that I wasn’t doing this for speed – at all – I was doing it to finish. Slow and easy. At the top I strapped the trekking poles on the pack and followed the ridge line trail to the intersection with the National Trail at Telegraph Pass.
With 4 miles behind me, I descended the switchbacks to the paved road, and entered unfamiliar territory – the eastern stretch of the National Trail out to the Buena Vista trail-head and back. There were some great stretches of trail, but quite a bit of ups-and-downs, sometimes difficult to get into a good rhythm. At the turnaround, I applied some sunscreen. This is the desert, after all. Along the way I passed a number of fellow-hikers, all of whom gave me a queer look, likely wondering why I was so geared up. When I got back to Telegraph Pass and was passing a group of college students hiking back up to the Pyramid/National trail interesection, one of the girls asked – “Do you have enough stuff?!” “I’m on mile 10 of 30,” I said. What followed was a lot of “whoa’s” and “F#$# yeahs” from the group. Offering a few fist pumps in the air, I continued upward.
With the out-and-back finished, I turned NW on the National Trail to follow it along what would be the longest of the ridge traverses. This stretch of trail is gorgeous – both in scenery and trail conditions. I was feeling good, and about to settle into a nice pace when my right IT band started flaring and then my left calf muscle started cramping. NO! At only 11 miles, I was not pleased. I stopped to stretch the IT band, popped an extra Salt Stick tab and soldiered on. I was a bit bummed that the knee pain was slowing me down on what would otherwise have been the best part of the day. Great trail over 4+ miles of gradual descent. It could have been epic. Oh well.
I arrived at the water drop, mile 15, with a decision to make. My planned route no took me on a 10 mile loop with 1,200 ft. elevation climbing up the San Juan Rd. valley on the Bajada Trail, up the SE flank of a large ridge and back the full length of the ridge on the Alta Trail. Conversely, I could cut that loop off, turn left and do the final ~5 miles of the planned route and call it a day with 20 miles. Maybe I should have.
I chose the originally-planned, longer route. Right as I hit the Bajada Trail I came across a park ranger – also trail-running – and chatted for a few minutes. Very friendly and glad to see people out using the trail system. Assured that the Alta Trail was in great condition, I moved on excited. Soon, however…actually, almost immediatley, spirits dropped. The Bajada Trail was a constant up and down in and out of washes – impossible to get into a good groove. Plus, I was hot. As the trail name implies, I was feeling “low.” Very low. Knowing that I was moving further away from my car and towards a huge ridge-line to climb, the thought of turning back was tempting. I found some shade a couple miles up the valley, switched out my socks for a fresh pair and continued on, across the San Juan Rd, and started up the Alta Trail climb. I hoped that the new trail would make my spirits “high”er (get it?) and for a moment I felt reenergized. Towards the top of the climb, however, I saw another piece of temping shade and took a the opportunity to sit. With my back against a cool slab of stone, I closed my eyes and dozed for about 5 minutes.
Wow. That felt great. I jumped, bounded up the trail for about 10 seconds, but the energy didn’t last. Nonetheless, I think the nap helped. I soon crested the major portion of the climb and was thrilled to see the trail now start to head SW – down the ridge-line and back to my water-drop. 20 miles done, 10-ish to go.
Unfortunately, this stretch of trail was in very bad condition. Lots of exposed rock (instead of nice dirt) and continually covered with scree, loose rocks, etc… Much of it was unrunnable. A lot of it was even difficult to hike. It was very slow. And, with the descent, the IT band pain flared big time. It was a long, maddening few miles.
I reached the bottom and was at about 23 miles. From here, each step brought me closer to the end. Hooray! My energy level was low, but the flatter (and nice soft dirt trail) back to my water drop at mile 25 was heavenly. Spirits were lifting. The end was coming close. From the water drop I turned south and headed for the Gila and Bursera Trails. The Gila ran along a valley back to my car, but I – of course – had planned to run the Bursera up one final ridge. It was all trail I had done previously, and I seemed to remember that it was in good condition. The descent in particular – which is a VERY heavily used portion of trail – I knew to be in good condition. It wouldn’t be like the NW strech of the Alta Trail.
I pushed on, fight off some more leg cramps and screaming right IT band on the descent, and made it back to my car.
Total distance – exactly 29 miles. I could have run down the trail and back to add another ~2 miles to make it a full 50k, but I was late and my family was expecting me home soon. So off I went.
On the road I stopped by a McDonalds drivethrough and ate the 2 most delicious McDs cheeseburgers I have ever had. A protein shake, bananas, chips, 1/2 a pizza, and yogurt later…was still hungry when I went to bed. The next morning, I was famished, at cereal, drank soda, got a huge hot dog at Coscto at 10:00, etc… Still hungry. By the next evening, my appetite subsided.
The damage? Sore and stiff muscles. ZERO blisters, ZERO stomach problems. The gear all worked so well. The Altra Trail Gaiters SAVED ME! With so much rock and sand and gravel and debris on the trail, I would have been shaking my shoes out non-stop if not for them. Absolute lifesaver. The Hammer Perpetuem seemed to work well, the Nathan VaporWrap was very comfy. The ultimate direction bottles were great. I’m sold on those.
High fives all around.
It was, hands down, the hardest physical feat I have ever accomplished. I don’t know how you 100-miler ultra-marathoners do it. But, I am glad to have done a marathon…and a bit extra. I won’t call it an “ultra” until I do it as a real race. I’m signed up for the Bryce 50k in June, and might do the Buffalo 50k this Spring. We’ll see how the recovery goes…
We are making a family tradition out of doing a race on Thanksgiving morning. We did it back in 2012, a 5 miler that seemed like the farthest distance I would ever run. This time the Mrs. and I did the Turkey Leg 5k in Farmington. It was a lot of fun. I should have eaten a little better in the morning though because I felt like the tank was empty. Still the 25:00 time was pretty good for me. Afterwards I ran home (also 5k) as extra credit to earn myself some more pie.
AND
I had a lot of goals for running this season, and among them was to summit the 3 highest peaks in Davis County from the valley floor. I did Thurston and Francis Peaks back in July, so that left Bountiful Peak. I decided to bag it using the Old North Trail in Davis Creek Canyon. It is about 4.5 miles of, and 4,500 ft. elevation gain. Upness.
The first 2.5 miles up were great. But, about 1/2 between the Old North overlook and Midway Peak, the trail faded and the markings did too. Thus, the bushwhack began. I knew that the trail would fade out around there, but I was hoping that I could find a clear route to the top.
From there, there are 2-3 connected ridgelines that lead up to Bountiful Peak. Unfortunately, the ridges themselves are heavily covered with oak, scrub oak, aspen, and lots of scratchy thick underbrush. I followed the ridges, hugging the north side of them, but down the hill a bit. There were a surprising number of game trails that were easy to follow. When one faded, there was usually another close by to follow. They were still scratchy, and the route did still require a few short, but hefty, bushwhacks. I made it though.
To descend I ran down Skyline Drive to the Parrish Creek Trail and went down there. I was planning to take the Bonneville Shoreline trail the 3-4 miles back north to the Davis Creek TH where my car was, but I had a few hot spots that were about to go full-on blister. I had called a friend to meet me at the bottom (my phone was about to die and I failed to bring a cable to hook it to my little charger pod). He kindly gave me a ride to my car.
Last year on Pioneer Day, a friend and I tackled Baer Canyon. It was only my 2nd trail run, and we were unprepared and it was rough. I thought I would continue that and make an annual tradition of pushing myself to do unwise things on Pioneer Day. On the top of my trailrun to-do list has been to bag Thurston and Francis Peaks. I have been to both, but only after driving up to Francis and then running the Great Western Trail. I wanted to do it proper, climbing up from the valley floor. I put out the word and was joined by a few nice gents – Bryan, Jeremy, and Steve. Bryan had to turn back (work, or something) after the first hour of climbing, but Jeremy and Steve stuck it out to the end.
We started at 5:00 AM with headlamps, and I immediately fell behind the group on the climb out of the Fernwood Recreation Site in Layton. I don’t know what it was, but I just felt horrible. My stomach felt uneasy, and the climb really beat me up. When Brian turned back, I caught up to the other two and we stayed together for most of the remainder of the climb. We made it up the primary ascent, hit the delicious springs to refill our water along the traverse over to Chinscraper and then tackle that final climb up to the ridgeline.
As we neared Thurston Peak, we cut up a stream drainage where there was exposed rock and dirt to make an easier bushwhack up to the the peak. Its a bummer that someone hasn’t blazed a proper trail up to the top. Someone get on that. We enjoyed taking a rest, chugged some soda, ate, and then continued on south, back to the Great Western Trail.
Along here, I hit my stride on the GW, but after about an 1/2 mile got stopped in my tracks by simultaneous cramps in my right calf and thigh. Ouch. I had been careful to keep hydrated and intake calories, but I had completely forgotten to pop a salt capsule. I took two with water, rubbed them a bit, and then runned them out until they loosened while trying to catch up to Jeremy and Steve. They didn’t cause any more problems as I kept my electrolytes in balance.
I love this stretch of the Great Western – amazing views on both sides.
We took the steep road/trail up to the FAA towers on Francis Peak and stopped to refuel, take pictures, and plan our descent. Originally, I had planned on coming down the Francis Peak Trail, but had been convinced to take the Farmington Canyon Road down. This would put the mileage higher than I had planned, but I was excited about the prospect of hitting 20 miles – which would make it my longest run ever.
We started to scramble down the rocks just south of the peak marker to get back on the road when both Jeremy and Steve let out a sudden scream and help. Apparently, I had stepped right over (almost on) a large rattlesnake. As they followed me, they saw it slithering away, whereas I hadn’t even noticed it at all. After we got our nerves back, we got on the road and started down.
At this point, my left IT Band was starting to hurt, so I told them to go ahead while I stretched. I had about 8-9 miles of gravel road downhill ahead of me and I figured that with stretching the IT band might hurt, but would be manageable.
I caught up to them a mile or so down the road and continued my faster pace, moving ahead of them for another couple miles. Then, the blisters started. On the heal and arch of my right foot, two large blisters developed. This slowed me down and as we approached Skyline Dr. / Farmington Canyon Rd., they caught up to me. I was quickly realizing that this was going to be a much slower descent than I had planned so I wished them good luck and sent them on their way. So much for 8 minute miles the whole way down. Instead, I hobbled / limped / kind-of-ran / sometimes walked down to Sunset Campground and then took the Farmington Creek Trail down to its trailhead where my wife picked me up. It was really painful. Excruciating.
Jeremy and Steve took the road the whole way down, and my shortcut actually put me at the bottom ahead of them, even though my pace was slow.
In the end, I was exhausted and in a lot of pain but happy to have down 20 miles and to have bagged both Thurston and Francis Peaks. Though on speed PRs, a PR for distance and that was fun.
Altra was sponsoring an aid station at the inaugural Skyline 50 mile Mountain Marathon, and since my family was out of town, I decided to volunteer. We were stationed at the Public Grove Hollow trail head (FR 620) on Avon Pass Rd. above Eden, UT. It was a gorgeous day and it was fun seeing the runners come through. We were at about mile 12 of the race. After everyone went through, I had also volunteered to sweep the course up to the next aid station. The purpose is to make sure everyone is off the course and accounted for and then tell then next aid station that they can pack up and go. It was about 5.5 miles. I planned on refueling and filling my water and just running back to my car – for a total of 11 miles. That is a lot for me, but I knew that I could take it slow on the way back if needed.
Now – before I start my long rant, let me say that in the end I had a good time.
There was a great scene at the finish line and it was a lot of fun socializing and meeting some new people in the trail running / ultra community.
Very nice people.
By the time I hit the trail it was heating up (around 10:15 AM). I headed up Public Grove Hollow on FR 620, eventually branching left (west) when it turns north. It was a gradual climb, all on a ATV trail. The last 2 miles slowly descend (with lots of rolling ups and downs). Not bad. When I got to about 5.5 miles I didn’t see an aid station. Perhaps my GPS is just a bit off, I thought. There were ribbons on stakes and tied to trees marking the course, so I knew I was in the right place. I thought that maybe it was just a little further down the trail. I continued seeing ribbons until about mile 6. But after that they disappeared. Now I was getting worried. Was I supposed to take one of the side trails or branches of the road? I had looked down each of them for ribbons but hadn’t seen any. I continued on until about mile 7.5 and then turned around. By this point I had dropped in elevation down into the Devil’s Gate Valley area I hadn’t seen a ribbon for about 1.5 miles and figured that I had somehow missed the turnoff. By this point it was hot and I was getting low on water. I had been pacing my water consumption with the expectation that I could fill up before running back. With the temperatures now getting up into the 90s, I was worried. I met some motorcyclists and chatted a bit on my way back – they offered me a bottle of water. On my way back to where I saw the last ribbon I again checked the paths branching off – and nothing no ribbons.
I made it back to my car, but it had turned into a nearly 25 km / 16 mile run – my longest ever. In a way I was happy that I had been pushed to run so far. A (still slow) 1/2 marathon PR. Even with the extra water, I ran out at the end and was getting dehydrated – it was bad. Without that extra water, I would have been in serious trouble.
I drove my car down to the finish line to report in and apologize for getting lost and not reporting to the next aid station like I was supposed to. And this is where it gets interesting.
It turns out that I hadn’t gotten lost. I ran right to where the aid station was supposed to be and beyond. The problem was that the aid station had already packed up and left!!!
I suddenly went from trying to apologize to being a bit peeved. Wait a second! You guys knew that I was out on the trail, sweeping it to come report to you, and you just packed up and left?! I was dumbfounded. They knew I was coming. And, they had to have known that I would showing up asking for either A. a ride to my car, or B. Water and some food to fuel my return run. But no – they had just left. What is the purpose of sweeping the course if you can’t report to anyone when you get there? So, I ran right past it. AND – on their way out, they had removed a bunch of the flags/ribbons – which is why I hadn’t seen any after about mile 6. They could have left a note on the trail saying – hey, you made it, sorry we had to leave early, go ahead and turn around. Here’s a bottle of water. OR – since they were on freaking ATVs, they could have ridden up the ATV trail until they found me and told me to go ahead and turn around. Here I was, out volunteering to help ensure the safety of runners and then they just leave me out there to suffer on the trail, endangering my own safety.
This wouldn’t have been a big deal if not for the fact that it was HOT and I was 7.5 miles away from my car with almost no water. Without the good samaritan motorcyclists giving me water, I would have been in bad shape. I would have made it back to my car, but I would have been hurting.
If you can’t tell, I was a bit upset – I still am.
On the bright side – I made it. I had a slightly unnerving and stressful, but successful run.
I am happy to report that I survived the Ragnar Wasatch Back Relay Race. The team consisted of friends and family, many of them more consistent runners that me. Nevertheless, I assumed role of Team Captain (in charge of nagging, mostly) and took the set of legs with the highest mileage. What was I thinking? I was most concerned about the stress fracture on my ankle – which had been feeling great as of late, and my IT band which has been a consistent problem as of late. With the high mileage and some very long stretches of steep downhill, both injuries had opportunity to act up. Thankfully – neither did!!! Every muscle and joint was sore and has been since, but those injuries have been ok. In any case, here are the 3 legs.
The leg was absolutely gorgeous. The leg climbed from the Pineview Reservoir up to Snow Basin ski resort. The climb was exhausting and I ended up power hiking portions of it. There was a 1 mile downhill section in the middle that felt amazing. I just opened up and bombed down it, getting a 1 mile PR and a couple shorter PRs too.
This was my night leg. I ran it from about 2:30-3:30. I started out a bit cold, but by the end was as hot as ever. I’m glad that I didn’t over dress. The leg went along Rockport Reservoir and would have probably been gorgeous in daylight. It was a slow steady climb for most of it.
Before this leg we were able to crash at a teammate’s cousin’s house on the floor and get a hot shower and breakfast. Wow – it made a huge difference. By the time I started it was about 2:00 and although it was only 70, it felt hotter. My last leg was 10 miles and dropped a total of 2,636 elevation over the course of about 7-8 miles of it. Had this been my first leg, I think I would have loved it – just bombing down. But, I had already run 13 miles the previous two legs and I was already beat sore. At a number of points on the descent, I had to stop and walk for a bit. There was about 500 ft. of climbing as well – almost all of which I power hiked. I was just spent. Towards the end, there was about a 1/2 mile of trail. I hit that and blew past a bunch of people who were carefully picking their way down the trail. I was in my element and made good time.
By the finish I had hit 9.9 miles, so I did the hand off and went an extra .1. I hit PRs for 10 mile, 15 k, 10 k, 2 miles, 1 mile, 1 k, and 1/2 mile. So, that made me happy.
I was also relieved that my dreaded IT band, which I was afraid would rear its ugly head on all of this downhill didn’t hurt AT ALL. Wow.
In the end it was a very good experience. I ran 23 miles, which is more that I usually do – way more. Will I do it next year? Honestly…probably not. I think I would rather train for a trail race. But who knows . . . maybe.
A couple months ago, a member of the Wasatch Mountain Wranglers Facebook group posted that they needed a runner to add to their team for the Zion Ragnar Trail Relay. The fee was already paid, just come and run. My family was scheduled to be out of town on the race weekend, so I figured that I had nothing better to do and secured a spot on the team. I hadn’t done a Ragnar before and from what I knew, understood that it wasn’t really my “scene.” Huge corporate sponsorship/product shilling, running in costumes, black eyed pees blasting over speakers, etc…. I am a bit more low key. But a lot of people love it and I think that is great. I especially like that it seems to get people who otherwise may not try running out there. I also see how the group/ team experience could be a lot of fun for friends/family to go out and do something really challenging together. That’s awesome. It just isn’t why I have really come to live running trails. If you go to a non-Ragnar trail race – like an ultra marathon – you will notice a VERY different scene. Less spectacle. Less EDM remixes of “Livin on a Prayer” blasting at a gazillion decibels, less meat-market skin fest.
But I digress. Back to my actual race report. I was the first runner for or team, scheduled to start at 2:00. I arrived, dropped off my gear, drove 5 miles back down the road to the parking lot, took the shuttle back, picked a campsite, set up tent, got dressed and headed over to the big start/finish area. The team captain, Joel, arrived and I pointed out where our spot was about 60 seconds before I took off – just in time. My first leg was the Green Loop – the easiest of the three – 3 miles. I kept an easy pace, quickly relaxing how out of shape my ankle-resting had rendered me.
3 Miles in 31:01 @ 10:22 min/mile with 381 ft. elevation
That left me about 6 hours before I would run again. Much of that was spent trying to keep blowing dust out of my eyes and trying to recharge my phone – which the roaming/searching for signal had quickly drained. I also got to hang a bit with the rest of the team – a super friendly family + friends. They made me feel very welcome. They made what could have been an uncomfortable and awkward weekend I to a very welcoming one. Thanks guys!
At 9:00 I got ready for the Red Loop – the hardest leg, 8+ miles. With my headlamp readying I excitedly took off. This is where I noticed some trouble. It had been dusty all day and there was a little dust that billowed up on my previous loop, but now it was choking. With the 800+ racers that had pounded down the red loop by this point, the dirt was compacted, but rather pulverized into a fine talcum powder-like dust 1-2 inches deep in places. All those feet had also deepened many portions of the trail into a narrow trough/rut with 1-2 inch deep edges on either side to roll ankles on as you tried to tight-rope walk the narrow path. The dust was the real problem though. The constant stream of runner had not only pulverized the trail from dirt into dust, but never left it long enough for it to settle back down. The air was filled with it. My eyes stung and it was hard to breath. Also difficult was the fact that the headlamp light reflected off of it in the air and made it difficult to see though the cloud.
This was frustrating and I couldn’t help but think of the parallel to Donald Worster‘s seminal 1983 study, Dust Bowl: The Southern Plains in the 1930s. Worster’s history examine the 1930s Great Plains environmental and economic disaster know as the Dust Bowl. Employing Marxist theory he outlines how capitalist interests and market created a situation that led to crisis. Capitalism led farmers to overflow the Plains. The region had been enjoying an abnormally wet period, the soil was rich, and yields were astronomic! Huge profits. However, when climate oscillated toward more typical aridity and then devolved into a deep and long drought – the crops died. Where once the millennia-old ecology of long, mixed, and short grass prairie grass weathered regular droughts, there was no longer the deep cover of grasses and interconnected root system. There was only exposed dry soil. And, it all blew away. Worster’s analysis is narrow, and his application of Marxist theory and focus on capitalism doesn’t quite explain the totality of a very complex situation, but revealing and an important work.
I see it as analogous a bit to what happened at the Zion Ragnar. Boasting that this was “the biggest trail Ragnar ever!!!” (Met with lots of cheers) the race organizers sent 2,400+ runners out on the trails. Trails that never see that magnitude of feet in such a compressed time period. And, it destroyed the trails. Dust dust dust. Bigger is better led to deteriorating trail conditions. Later, like in the Dust Bowl, it would lead to disaster. But again, I digress.
I ran my 8.5 miles. The last 3 or so where made much more enjoyable by meeting someone on the trail and chatting about history. It turns out, she had just created a nonprofit organization to so some historic site preservation in the St. George area and we had lots to talk about. Towards the end, my left IT band flared, but I finished the loop.
8.4 miles in 1:42:43 @ 12:15 min/mile and 950 ft. elevation
From there I went to my tent and tried to get some sleep. At 2:00 it started to rain. Around 4:30 I got up to get ready for my next, and last, leg on the 4.5 mile yellow loop. It would be cold, wet, and certainly muddy, but I was excited. 2 hours later, I was still waiting, soaked to the bone and very cold from standing around. The runner before me texted around 6:30 and said he was dropping. Be had also been waiting 2 hours for the guy before him to finish the red loop. The trail, however, had become un-runnable, he said. This coming from a guy who runs ultras like the Wasatch 100 worried me. I had been watching people come in and hearing that things were bad. The moisture had turned that 1-2 inches or powder dust into 3-4 inches of slimy greasy clay-like mud. It was difficult to even walk on in flat sections, let alone run. On ascents, runners were having to pull them selves up by grabbing bushes on the side of the trail. On descents, people were saying it was scary – sliding, falling, etc. 30-45 minute loops were taking people 2 hours. The 8.5 mile loop, which took me 1 hour and 45 minutes was taking people 3+ hours. If the race had been smaller, maybe the trail wouldn’t have been so badly damaged and it would have been just a muddy course – not an un-runnable morass.
So tough up, right? Just go slop it out! Did I mention that temps had dropped and the rain had turned to snow? Yeah. Snow. Coming down hard. At least an inch from 5:30-6:30 and getting harder. Now, people were coming in hypothermic and a 4 hour struggle to finish their loop. A runner on a friend’s team got sent to the Kane County hospital with severe hypothermia and a core body temperature of 94 degrees! I watched one lady come up to the bonfire, crouch down and desperately try to warm up her fingers – sobbing that she couldn’t feel them. We suggested she go to the aid tent or the lodge – where it was toasty warm.
I went in and got our bib, thinking I should give it a shot. I took off and after heading down about 3/4 mile of trail, turned around. The trail was impassable. I could barely keep upright and it was mostly flat by that point. Having stood on the rain/snow for 2 hours , I was soaked and suddenly aware of how numb my fingers and toes were. I turned in my bib and headed to camp. As I was telling the team that I had dropped as well as the runner before me, word spread through the camp that Ragnar had cancelled the rest of the race. VERY smart call. In the end, search and rescue went out and made sure all 10-22 missing runners were found and accounted for. I spare the details, but getting out of there (snow was really pounding now) was a mess.
I was disappointed that I didn’t get to do all 3 loops. I was racing for free, but suspect that those who had paid for 2/3 of a race were more disappointed. More frustrating, however, was my feeling that it could have been prevented. The rain and snow was an act of nature – but if it had fallen upon trails not so badly damaged by the 300+ 8 person teams, it would have still been runnable. It would have been cold and wet and muddy. But it wouldn’t have turned into a dangerous situation where people were stuck out on a 3 hour loop, when only prepare for a 45 minute one.
Like the Dust Bowl, decisions made by man turned a bad situation into a crisis. Drought would have ruined a lot of farmers, but the Great Plains wouldn’t have blown away and become an ecological and economic disaster at the scale it became.
At the Zion Ragnar, it would have been a tough one and lots of people would have dropped regardless – but many would have been able to soldier on and have stories to tell of it. Maybe it wouldn’t have been cancelled and people wouldn’t have been sent to the ER with hypothermia.
So, how do I end this? First, I had a good time. It was fun. The running and camaraderie, that is. The Ragnar “scene,” not so much. The size of it wasn’t my scene. I know Ragnar is a business and wants to maximize profits, but I wonder if they restricted the size of the Trail Relays and kept them a bit smaller, a bit more low- key, a bit more intimate – if runners would have a more enjoyable time. I think they would. Of all the trail runners and trail ultra marathoners I have talked to, most avoid Ragnar because they don’t like the scene. If run differently and on a smaller scale, I wonder if some would be excited about the opportunity to do a relay race together. Profits would be much smaller, but rather than most of the serious trail-running community avoiding Ragnar, maybe they would participate. Perhaps. Maybe not. I don’t know. I’m just barely getting into trail running and getting to know the community.
So would I do a trail Ragnar again? Probably not. It was a good experience and I’m glad I did it. Very glad. I had a lot of fun. I am bummed that my only day-time loop was the non-scenic one, but oh well.
ALSO – I ran in brand new Altra Olympus shoes. They were amazing. I’ll so a gear review about them later.
I grew up in Bellingham, WA and spent a lot of time hiking and mountain biking in the AMAZING sets of trails in the Chuckanut Mountains that creep into town from the south and east. These trails are amazing. The Galbraith (Lookout Mountain) trail system is world famous for Mtn. Biking trails. I spent so much time up there as a teenager, but didn’t realize how good I had it until I moved away.
I never ran those trails though. I hiked the Chuckanuts south of town, backpacking up to Pine, Cedar, Lizard, and Lilly Lakes to camp overnight. Also did Oyster Dome and the Bat Caves a number of times. Amazing trails, amazing views of the San Juan Islands. Beautiful Stuff.
Well, for Thanksgiving my family drove up to Bellingham for the week and my #1 goal was to fit in a trail run in the Chuckanuts. I had my dad drop me off at Larabee State Park and told him I would call about 30 minutes before I descended down to the Pine & Cedar lakes trailhead. I had gone over some maps and thought it would be about 10 miles.
I climbed up the Fragrance Lake Trail first, absolutely giddy with the familiar surroundings, soft dirt under each footfall, dense foliage, etc… I felt at home. I pushed past Fragrance Lake up to Cleator Road, thinking that if I followed it, it would put me up over the ridge to Lost Lake – a lake I never made it to as a kid. Well, I followed the road up, up , up, and finally got to the ridge. Down the other side looked too steep to climb though. IT turns out, if I had just followed the ridge NNE, I could have dropped right down to Lost Lake. Instead, I followed it SSW, eventually descending down the chinscraper trail to where the actual Lost Lake Trail hits…you guessed it…Cleator Road. If I had originally turned right on Cleator, instead of Left, I would have hit this trailhead in about 50 years. Oops. All told – this added about 2 unplanned miles onto my route. No worries. I hit the Lost Lake Trail, from which you can see SW to the ocean for a bit. Then, I took it along the bottom of the ridge I had just traversed the top of in the opposite direction. I made a quick stop to take a look at Lost Lake, then then continued on.
To get to the Pine & Cedar trail I jumped on the Raptor Ridge trail (taking a picture at the overlook) and then followed it to the intersection with the trail that would take me down to where my dad would pick me up. At this point, I look at my GPS and realized that if I instead turned right and went to Pine & Cedar lakes, and THEN down to the car…the total mileage might hit 13.1 – a half marathon. Granted – I hadn’t moved at half-marathon pace and had taken a lot of breaks to take pictures and such, but no matter. Off I went.
The lakes were beautiful as I remember them being as a kid, but the trail down to the trail head was STEEP. I remembered it being steep, but not this steep. And, my knees didn’t like it. By the time I got to the bottom BOTH IT BANDS WERE SCREAMING. NO!!! The dreaded IT Band was back – and now in both knees. This was disappointing.
My family pulled into the parking lot, literally, right as I finished but I made them follow me out to the road so I could hit the requisite 13.1.
13.2 miles @ 13:33 min/mile with 3,789 ft. elevation!
Amazing run. Amazing place. I can’t wait to get back.
Real trails are covered in leaves and moss
Real forests have huge upturned trees
Lost Lake
Real trails double as creek beds
Raptor Ridge
Pine Lake
In October I had a conference to attend down in Tucson, so I decided to drive. My plan was to find a place to run somewhere in the middle of the drive and I chose an obscure canyon that gets easy access to the Colorado River. It is Soap Creek Canyon, south of the 89a and the Vermillion Cliffs. The night before I couldn’t sleep so I just hit the road around 3:30 AM – arriving at the trail-head around 11ish. When I pulled off the highway and saw just how remote this was, I had second thoughts – but forged ahead in any case. You open a gate in the fence, close it behind you, drive over some desert to a makeshift parking lot / trailhead. And, then you head down the canyon. It begins as a shallow wash, slowly deepening. Eventually you enter the south fork of the canyon proper and soon have a lot of canyoneering decisions to make. There are no places that require all-out rock climbing, but lots of small drops and cliff faces to navigate. There were cairns to follow, but I had lots of concerns about heading down the wrong drop. At one point, there was even a rope descent. I passed 2 guys heading in the opposite direction – they had camped down at the river. That was comforting because I was becoming increasingly aware of how remote the place was. So far the terrain was dangerous enough to possibly cause a break if I fell, but not too bad. The ever-present paranoia of rattlesnakes had me more worried. By the time I made it to the Colorado River, it had taken longer than I had planned, I was getting worried about sunburn and anxious to get back to my car in one piece. I quickly dipped my feet in the river, geared back up, and made my ascent back up the canyon.
About 1 mile back up disaster struck – I rolled my left ankle hard, hearing a pop even. A few minutes later, I rolled it a second time. I had 4 miles to climb, and lots of rock faces to scamper/scale up. This was bad. About another mile up, BOTH of my calf muscles cramped violently. It was debilitating. This was trouble. I slowly made my way up. I eventually caught up with the 2 hikers, and they were glad to see me. Expressing that they were concerned at how little gear I was packing -worried that I would run out of water. I showed them the 2 liters my pack held and they were relieved.
Thoughout the ascent any time I did more than a walk, my calves cramped and brought me to teh ground. So – I walked out the last 3 miles or so. Scarier was when they cramped mid-rock climb up the various 10-15 ft. tall cliff drops. By the time I got to my car I was exhausted and relieved.
10.7 miles @ 13:5 min/mile and 2,442 ft elevation
Looking back, it was probably a foolhardy and stupid route to do solo. I would probably do it again – but only because I know the trial now.
As for the cramping calves…this is an excellent example of stupid rookie mistakes. When I got to my sister’s house in Phoenix later that night (after a great dinner with a colleague in Flagstaff at Satchmo‘s BBQ), I did some googling and quickly deduced that I had run low on electrolytes. I was hydrating, but sweating quite a bit and doing nothing to replenish them. Stupid stupid stupid. Lesson learned.
Panorama of the Vermillion Cliffs, looking North 
Looking down the Soap Creek Wash
Weird curled up dried mud all of the creek bed
Canyon Deepening
The Mighty Colorado River @ Soap Creek Rapids. This is just downstream from Lee’s Ferry
Looking up-canyon at the split between the North and South forks. Apparently you can do the north fork, but it requires repelling.
LOTS of climbing up boulder fields like this
Handy rope for a particularly hard section with no good alternative routes
For October I gave my knee time to recover, but didn’t really do much to fix it. I should have stretched it lots, but didn’t.
Then we decided to run a Thanksgiving Morning 5 mile turkey trot. I did a run each of the 2 weeks prior (5 miles at 9:02 min/mile, and 4.7 at 9:44 min/mile), and the knee gave me trouble each time. Stretching mid-run helped, but it still hurt.
Race day was cold and windy. To make matter worse, the first 2 miles were a steep descent. I have come to find out that illitibial band problems are exacerbated by downhills. Needless to day, I had to stop and stretch lots – but I finished. 5.5 miles at 9:05 min/mile. Not horrible for me.
And, the apple pie I ate when I got home never tasted so good.
Julianne and Me post-run.
The planned 5k race was 29 September 2012, so I decided to give my knees a break and only do bike rides for the month. 7 days out, I went out for a 1 mile jog. Knee felt fine, but I didn’t want to push it.
The race was early on a Saturday morning. At the fire of a cannon I took off, adrenalin pumping and pushing me to run faster that I ever had before. I posted a PR 5k time and pace (7:45 min/mile) and felt great. I was exhausted but the excitement of the “Race” atmosphere made me run fast. And no knee pain! It was great.
Julianne and me before the race. It was a bit chilly out.
Going wakeboarding later that day probably didn’t help the knee injury….
