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.
Straight up the “trail”
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.
Charred trees with new undergrowth surging back
“Trail” through the encroaching Aspen jungle
Views
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.
Around mile 12. Some runners who didn’t make it.
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.
RD Matt Gunn giving instructions pre-race, possibly demonstrating his patented Psy-inspired Gunn-gham Style horsey dance.
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.
Looking down into Proctor Canyon, about mile 14
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.
Looking up a portion of Red Rock CanyonPanorama looking back down Red Rock Canyon
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!
Running alongside AaronSpirits buoyed by my cheering friends, I tried to make a good show of it with a jump. Later on FB, one friend wrote “Um Your Pep right there was AMAZING! I don’t think I could have jumped like that!” Yeah Annie, maybe I shouldn’t have. The landing hurt! Ha!
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:
prAna Benson pearly-snap western shirt (worked SO WELL!)
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 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.
Looking at the Big Baldy SW ridge
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.
Panorama looking West-ish, with the ridge on the right.
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.
From the col just north of the false summit – looking up at the saddle to the true summitSummit cairn selfiePanorama from the summit ridge, looking East-ish at Timpanogos (see the false summit at the far right)
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!
How I Accidentally (but not really) Won the Zion Half Marathon
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!
This, for miles
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!
From near the top of Hurricane Mesa, looking southwest-ish across the desert we had just run left to right
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.
The night before this rainbow set down right where the start/finish was – symbolic of something, I’m sure.
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.
Rising sun behind West and East Mitten
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.
Three Sisters formation
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.
Heading east, around mile 4. Morning sun on the way up.Looking North-by-northeast at about mile 4.5, right before the loop turned south.
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.
Big Hogan formationEar of the Wind arch, around mile 14.A horseSand for days.
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.
Looking up at the south approach to 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.
Looking down from partway up Mitchell Mesa.A walled off uranium mine right near the top of the climb.
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.
Panorama from the top of Mitchell Mesa, looking east-ish.The mittens from the top of Mitchell MesaLooking southeast from Mitchell Mesa. The road below is the one we ran to get from the star to Three Sisters. The buttes to the southeast are the ones we ran around on the 2 loops.
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.
3 miles left. Feeling good, except for the tourists rolling by in cars kicking up clouds of dust. I was very glad to have brought an extra buff with me to breath through.
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!
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.
Walking inMy own little aid station. It was nice not having to carry anything as this was only 2-3 minutes away at any given point.Skates would have made my 100 laps a lot faster.Around we go!
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.
Trying to stay warm before the race. PC: MVH http://bit.ly/1Xm8AEfAt the starting line, ready to go!
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.
Looking down to Split Rock Bay from the Elephant Head aid station.
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.
Over the saddle and looking down into Red Rocks Canyon to the southwest shoreline.
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.
Heading down Red Rocks Canyon to the shoreline. PC: Lori Burlison http://bit.ly/1IbtE9n
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 way up to the Sentry Peak aid station, looking south along the ridgeline – and Molly’s Nipples. Yup. That’s what they’re called.
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.
Somewhere on the Mountain View Trail, faking a smile for MVH. PC: MVH http://bit.ly/1Xm8AEf
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.
Coming into the finish line areaMy delirious face with finishers mug. PC: MVH http://bit.ly/1Xm8AEf
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!
Dumb post-race pose Nr. 1Dumb post-race pose Nr. 2
In the end, I am frustrated but grateful that I was able to push through and finish.
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.
Rachael and me (and Phil) at the start
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.
Heading down
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.
Descending from the Blue Fly Aid Station
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.
On the road climb after dropping down from Blue Fly
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.
Almost to Proctor Canyon Aid Station – feeling GREAT!
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.
Red Dirt wastelands between Proctor Canyon and Thunder Mountain Aid Stations
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.
Climbing up Red Canyon
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.
Somewhere near the top, looking back down
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?
South Mountain Western Ridges Marathon+. 29 miles of happiness and horror.
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.
Morning Sun.
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.
Climb # 1. 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.
At the water drop. Car to the left, 10 mile loop on the Bajada and Alta Trails to the right. I went right.
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.
About to accidentally doze off for a 5 minute nap near the top of the Alta Trail climb. In the distance is the ridge to the south with the National Trail on the top that I had just run east-to-west.
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.
Looking West down the Alta Trail, before it starts the rough descent down the back NW side.
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.
Somewhere on the Alta Trail ridge, panorama looking east and south. National Trail ridge-line in full view.
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.
Looking east, up the Gila Trail valley with the Bursera Trail ridge-line to the right.
I pushed on, fight off some more leg cramps and screaming right IT band on the descent, and made it back to my car.
Partway up the Bursera Trail climb, I thought, “I wonder if I’ve hit 26.3 yet. I turned on my phone and just in time – I caught my strava read-out at exactly the marathon distance. First time ever.
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.
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.
Off I go. Feeling great about 10 yds into the 7.5 mile runPanorama looking back down towards the Pineview ReservoirA couple miles in, tired, but feeling good enough for selfies showing off my pearly-snap thrift store wrangler shirt. Funny story – a guy stopped me to ask where I got it. “Is that a Nike?” he asked. The same guy passed me again during my third leg and saw me wearing a different pearly snap shirt and got a kick out of it. Nice bloke.At mile 2.8, looking down a 1 mile stretch of glorious downhill.Shortly after this our van had a couple hours to rest, so we set up our sleeping bags on the grass at snow basin. Supposedly my wife is in the sleeping bag next to me.
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.
I wore my max-cushioning trail shoes – a pair of Altra Olympus – for the duration of the race. I figured they would save my feet and joints.
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.
A view from the top.Done. So so sore.Team Awesome! finally finished!
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.
Ready to represent the Wasatch Mountain Wranglers with an original “Wrangler,” pearly snaps and all!
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.
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.
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.
The far north end of camp, after 1 hour snow.
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 one of the first people to get out – and it was already a mess. One team member had to call AAA to pull him out of the mud
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.
Oct-Nov 2012, 5 Mile Turkey Trot and Knees Screaming
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.
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….
