Wasatch 100 Epic Fail

Well, at some point in running 100s it is inevitable (at least I'm hoping it's not just me) to have that epic fail, where it wasn't even close, where the mileage was scarcely an approximation of the intended goal. Where the body and mind both conspired for failure and the race was over before it even got into the meat. So it was with my first attempt at the Wasatch 100. It took me three years to draw out for this one, and somehow I managed only to get 53 miles in before complete self-destruction occurred. In reality, the self-destruction occurred around mile 45, and the last 8 miles were a simple matter of putting the last nails in the coffin. It didn't have to be this way. Looking back, I had several opportunities to salvage this event and pull out a finish. But by mile 53 I'd linked enough bad decisions to make it impossible. Here's how it came down: First off, let me say that I married off both of my daughters in the 36 days prior to the Wasatch, so needless to say neither my nutrition, nor my training had been optimal. On race day, I arrived at the start feeling reasonable, and as we headed down the funnel onto the increasingly narrow trail that runs the foothills of Layton, UT, I fell in with a few guys in what felt like a comfortable pace. Not once did I look at my GPS and determine what pace I was really running (turns out it was 2 minutes per mile faster than what I'd planned). By the time I reached the part of the course where it turned uphill, I was already feeling a little fatigued. Had I listened to my body at that point, I'd have slowed WAY down, walked very slowly up the steep climb letting lots of other runners pass me while I focused on mellowing out and eating some carbs to replenish my early-burn. Instead I set my sights on the group ahead of me and started making slow gains on them. When I reached the turn back south, I managed to pass that group, and then I focused on putting distance between them and me. I did manage to put down half a Cliff bar and a few Shot Bloks, but it was not even close to what I should have been consuming at that pace and distance. The brutal climb up Chin-Scraper likewise prompted an unreasonable desire to "hammer" it, and I put everything I had into the climb.

Topping out, I was breathing like a sprinter, not an ultra-runner, and I still pressed as I moved out along the ridge-line to head up towards the radar domes. Oddly, I still wasn't feeling the full impact of my impetuous approach to one of the hardest 100s in the country. Once I arrived at the Francis Peak aid station at mile 18.7, I was starting to realize my stomach had shut down.

I came in feeling really wobbly, and had a sharp pain in my stomach. I grabbed my drop bag, drank an Ensure, packed up my supplies, and as I walked past the table grabbed a couple bites of melon and a cookie. I tried to eat the cookie as I walked away from the aid station, but by this time my body was complaining loudly enough that I had to listen. From this point until about mile 35, I felt terrible. I literally forced myself to keep moving, and the sights of every upcoming climb made me want to lie down and sleep. Obviously, I could have stopped at Francis Peak, stayed there relaxing until my stomach came back, refueled and rehydrated, and then moved on at a more moderate pace. I even could have stopped and laid down like my body was screaming for as I approached Swallow Rocks aid station at 34.9 miles. However, at Swallow Rocks, I actually did sit down, and ate a Popsicle. Then I ate another. I drank some Coke on ice. I started to feel significantly better. I enjoyed the shade of the canopy there for about 15 minutes, and then got up and started off again. The short downhill after the aid station helped as well, and I actually thought I was back in business. What I actually was, was in a position to WALK all the way to Big Mountain, and take an even longer break there.

What I did do, was start running again. I came into Big Mountain having gained back a significant amount of lost time, and apparently was delusional enough to do a quick stop to make my planned sock change, eat a small amount of a boiled potato, and start off again running at a hard pace. That lasted for about a mile. Then it started deteriorating, and doing so quickly. I puked at mile 41, and then never got it back. Nausea continued to Alexander Springs aid station at mile 47.4, where I tried a piece of cantaloupe, which promptly tried to come right back up. I forced it to stay down, and headed off at a snail’s pace hoping not to lose that little bit of nutrition. The steep ups and downs of the climb up the canyon proved mind-bending, and with the darkness settling in, and only my backup headlamp with me (I'd planned on being at Lambs Canyon long before dark), I started stumbling in the dark. I somehow found the turn into the scrub-oak forest that would take me up over a ridge and into Parleys Canyon for my descent down to Lambs Canyon aid station, but as I headed up the single-track, my mental state began to match my physical state. I saw spiders on the trail (and I don't like spiders), so I tried to run which only made me trip and fall onto the trail where the spiders were (not sure if these were even real, but it was real to me at that time). I fell several times during the descent to Lambs Aid station at mile 53, and by mile 51 I was walking sideways to keep moving in a straight line. I was a mess. After the amazing medical folks there squared me away to where I was coherent and speaking full sentences, I tried to stand up. Nothing left there. It was over physically, and honestly I didn't have any fight left in me emotionally either. Despite still having 45 minutes before the cutoff, I withdrew and DNF'd. Disappointing? Yes. But surprisingly, I'm ok with it. I made those decisions, and I'll live with their consequences. But that said, I certainly don't have to make those same decisions again.

2012 Salt Flats 100 Race Director Report

The check-in and Pre-Race meeting began Thursday night at 5PM at the Wendover Community Center, in Wendover, UT. Wendover is a study in contrast, with economically challenged, small-town Utah sitting east of the state line, and to the west, the Casinos and Strip Clubs of West Wendover, NV. The mayor of Wendover, UT had offered up the Community Center and as we setup for the meeting the ever-present winds of the area showed no signs of abating... it looked like the National Weather Service’s promised storm was soon to arrive.

Runners showed up and gathered their race bags and visited the sponsors who had set up inside the center, and received the overview of the course markings, conditions, and last minute instructions. By 7PM the last of the runners had picked up their bags and went to get some sleep. At least that was the intention. Mother Nature, however had other ideas. The wind had been steadily increasing in intensity and by 8PM, 60 MPH gusts were slamming the area accompanied by a cold, driven rain. Driving out to the Start where I was to start marking the last of the course, I passed a 5th-wheel trailer laying on it’s side in the median, a casualty of the nuking winds. At the start area, all the Honey Bucket portable toilets had been blown over, Liz Bauer and Scott Brockmeier’s RV was parked next to assistant RD Ray Smith’s Motor Home, and all the folks who had intended to camp at the start had bailed and driven the 5 miles back to Wendover to get a hotel room. It was a very lonely looking start area. I climbed out of my truck and went in to talk to Ray about our options, and figure out how we were going to pull off this race. The BLM had required us to have a “rain route”, which would allow us to run the race if the Salt Flats was flooded, and as the rain continued we realized this might be a reality. We knew we’d be working through the night to get the course flagged either way, but running the rain route was not what people came out here to do. As if on cue, the rain ebbed, and then completely stopped. The wind continued to howl for another hour, and then it too backed off to the “normal” 15-20 MPH. We were going to be able to have a race after all. We shot out and started checking the flagging we’d placed earlier, and found most of it needed to be reset. By the time we’d set the flagging out to mile 30, it was time to head back and get the race started.

At 6:55, I formed up the runners out on the “Salt”, gave last minute instructions, and at 7:00AM sent them out into the white plain of salt. As the sun rose into the gray morning sky, the clouds broke up and the runners were able to experience the mirror-like reflection of the salt. Because the salt surface is perfectly flat, the curvature of the earth makes it so you cannot see another person on the surface more than a few miles out, so the runners were guided along the salt by 4’ rebar hammered into the hard salt and bright orange streamers flapping in the wind. As they passed one of these, another would come into view.

Very quickly, the favorite to win, Jay Aldous had taken the lead and by the time he hit the first aid station at mile 10, no one could be seen behind him.

Pete Lindgren, Daryl Hultquist and several other possible “second placers” were working hard to keep Jay reasonably close as they followed several minutes back.

The weather was cool and windy, but made for great running conditions and the runners set a quick pace so I needed to get out and finish flagging the course. I took a friend and training partner, Dan Eastman out to the tip of Crater Island and dropped him off to flag the west side of the island by foot while I headed back to keep flagging the remainder of the course, checking in with the “Sheep Camp” Aid Station crew (Aid 6) on the way.

Only 1 mile from Sheep Camp, I passed a very strong-looking Jay Aldous, now easily 1 hr ahead of the next runner. He was putting down a blistering run, and I needed to get moving to ensure the course was flagged ahead of him.

I was literally putting down the course markings two aid stations ahead of him .

The weather kept improving, and by mid-afternoon the temperatures were in the low 60’s with mostly sunny skies.

Even our K-9 competitor “Elvis” with 100 mile first-timer DeeAnna Croasman seemed to be enjoying the weather. I finished flagging the course by 7PM, and started setting up the finish. About this time I received a call from Ray, who had gone out to pull the Honey Buckets from Aid 1 and Aid 2 so they could be moved over to a couple other Aid Stations.

He had driven off of the hard salt surface into the “salt mud”, and was now mired down. He started digging out while I completed setting up the finish, and thanks to some random 2x4’s in his pickup bed he called and said he was out shortly after I was done setting up the finish, but the trailer and Honey Buckets were stuck until we could get a winch or better vehicle out there. As Ray drove back towards the finish, the deceptive illusions of the night desert took over, and he turned to what he thought were the lights of the finish, and again drove off the hard salt surface getting stuck once again. At least this time he had some experience on how to dig himself out. At 9:45 PM, we saw a headlight way down the approach to the finish. Jay was headed in. The approach to the finish is 3.5 miles of perfectly flat road, and the lights of the finish are visible almost the entire way. Just like the Salt Flats themselves, the deceptive nature of distance in this environment adds a unique challenge to this last section.

The agonizing nature of the finish was reflected in Jay’s face as he came through the finish at 10:04PM, a blazingly fast 15:04:45.

Liz Bauer led the ladies the entire race, and finished with a 24:44:01. From the Race Director perspective, the race was a great success. 49 runners started, 43 finished.

Most of the “first timers” also finished, including DeeAnna Croasman and Elvis,

and 18-year-old Tyler Bodily. Only one runner experienced a significant “lost” episode after missing a pivotal turn. No significant injuries, no damaged vehicles, and almost universally enjoyable experiences by all runners, volunteers, and staff. As is always the case, there is much room for improvement and the runners and volunteers have offered outstanding suggestions we will incorporate into next year’s event. The Salt Flats 100 exposes the runner to truly other-worldly terrain, deceptive distances, and mental challenges unlike any other 100. This year’s event confirmed that unique status as virtually every competitor commented on the unique and challenging nature of the race. As we grow the event, I’m sure the experience will be even better year after year.

The Buffalo 100 Mile Endurance Run

Time to catch up! I never realized how totally absorbing being the Race Director for an event was! Before I get into that, time to recap the Buffalo 100 Mile Endurance Run. First off, Jim Skaggs puts on a first-class event! Loved every minute of it! The start was at 12:00 Noon on Friday, and about 40 of us formed up for the start. Karl Meltzer was in attendance, and I knew I'd likely see him hammering back from his first 50 mile loop as I was heading out to the Ranch Aid Station.

The weather was cool and windy, so I was definitely feeling good and headed out at a good pace for the Elephant Head loop. Aid 1 (also Aid 2, 3, 12,13,and 14) came about 15 minutes ahead of schedule, but feeling good so I kept the pressure on for the loop out to the rock formation and after passing Aid 1 again, headed for the steep descent to the West shoreline of Antelope Island. The trail heads South parallel to the shoreline and then starts to climb back up to the summit via some very punishing switchbacks. I kept the pressure on, and by the time I hit Aid 1 again I was over an hour ahead of my goal pace. However, I was feeling like crap, and actually wasn't sure I'd be able to continue. That seems to be the cycle in a 100 miler for me. Run well, feel crappy, then feel good, then feel crappy, then feel good ;) Maybe that's what makes it so attractive?! I hit Aid 4 at Mile 22 and checked in, got some melon in me, and continued on to Aid 5. At this point I was starting to feel a little better as I'd backed off the pace a little. I was still 45 minutes ahead of schedule, but feeling good again so I decided to enjoy the run through the great single track on the east side of the island out to Aid 6 and 7. Aid 6 was managed by Black Diamond Equipment, so it was good to see a few folks I recognized in addition to my wife. I did the classic in/out at 6 and cooked it out to 7. By the time I hit 7, I was starting to "feel" it, partially because I'd been texting the executive staff I work for trying to help solve a breakdown in part of our reporting applications, and I was paying less attention to technique and more to the phone. Finally, on my way back from 7 I was able to call it "good" and put the phone away. Aid 8 (Black Diamond again) came with me maintaining that 45 minute ahead of pace time, and I grabbed my headlamp and headed out knowing nightfall was fast approaching and I'd need this for the "torn up" part of the course, and the rocky single track on the north loop. I love night running, and so I definitely enjoyed the next 15 miles. I came into the start/finish area for my 50 mile aid station, and picked up my first pacer.

Tim Shupe (on my left) would take me for the next 22 miles on the Elephant Head loop, and then Dan Eastman (on my right) would pick me up at this location for the last 28. Tim kept me on a good pace, despite a recurring "feel like crap, feeling good" cycle that continued most of the night. We arrived back at the start/finish aid station and I swapped out pacers and we headed into the pre-dawn light to finish out the last 28 miles. Dan kept me on a solid pace despite my whining and protesting, and we made good time out to the Ranch aid station. The return from ranch became less and less enjoyable as my left calf started to complain, at first quietly, but then loudly. By mile 89, I was in significant "hurt", and was doing my best "gimp hop" to move along.

At the Black Diamond aid station, a nurse from IHC did her best to release the muscle with some pressure point massage. The muscle would act like it was relaxing, but as soon as I stood up on it, it would tighten up worse than before. Dan convinced me to give it a shot, so we headed out at a snails pace. After another mile, I called it a day as I was basically hopping on my right leg to make progress. 91 miles in, I DNF'd rather than push it any further and risk a tear.

My feet were definitely ok with the idea of calling it a day too. I'd developed a few good blisters in in the process, so I need to re-think my shoes! The Buffalo is a fun run, with great support. The buffalo (Bison) do offer a unique element to the event, as they roam the island and in some cases get in the way of runners, requiring the runners to wait for them to pass, or even take WIDE detours. Bison are not known for beign fluffy and cuddly to runners getting too near them. Jim was very gracious when I came into the finish and told him I was a DNF at 91 miles, and he offered up a 50 mile finisher's mug as my consolation prize ;) I will display it proudly!

Bear 100, mile 30-ish

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2011 Bear 100 Race Report

This morning I'm sore... but in a good way. Friday morning the alarm went off at 0400 and I dressed and loaded up the truck, and my wife (and crew chief) drove us from Bear Lake down to Logan. The temperature was chilly, but perfect for the 4000' climb to the 10 mile aid station.

The scene at the start was the usual craziness, but event amidst the 234 starters, I ran into several running buddies just prior to the start. Ultra-running is a small community.

The climb to Logan Peak was consistently steep, but has a couple great, runnable sections and some killer views. I passed through the Logan Peak aid station in 3 minutes, and headed out for the next 9 mile leg to the Leatham Hollow aid station. The last 3 miles of this leg are great single-track running and I was "in the zone" when I was suddenly brought back to reality when I found myself stopped with my eye only an inch away from a sharp broken branch on an overhead deadfall. It had been flagged, but I didn't see it. I became more attentive when running single-track from then on.

I arrived at the Leatham Hollow aid station about 10 minutes ahead of my 27 hour pace, and I was feeling great.

Chriss met me there and helped me through a quick re-fuel and I was off on the next leg which included a 3 mile run up a low-incline dirt road to the next Aid Station, and then a 7.8 mile climb to Cowley Canyon Aid station, and then another climb and subsequent descent to Right-Hand Fork aid station at 36 miles. I usually have a little stomach distress after an aid station as my body tries to adapt to having food in my stomach again. Same situation here, but I pressed through it and still maintained my pace.

I arrived at the third aid station, grabbed a quick snack and headed out for the climb to Cowley. This climb has minimal shade, and is consistently steep the whole way. I was feeling pretty good however, and I managed to arrive at Cowley still ahead of my 27 hour pace. I took a few extra minutes to cool down in the shade they had under a canopy there, and then headed out again for the next climb.

As I ascended the steep dirt road I took notice of the extremely fine dust that sat several inches deep in places on this road. Then the first of several trucks approached from above... and I realized I was going to be sucking in a TON of that dust as they passed. I pulled my shirt up over my mouth as the first one passed, but the filtering effect was limited, and I spent the next 30 minutes coughing and sputtering trying to get that stuff out of my lungs. Fortunately, I topped out and started the long descent into Right Hand Fork aid station about the time the coughing fits ended and was able to crank out the descent at a great pace.

Chriss met me at Right Hand Fork and I again refueled and headed out. The climb was hot in the late afternoon sun, and I struggled to keep my pace going strong. This section of the course climbs up single track to meet a dirt road in a wide mountain pass, and follows this road down to Temple Fork aid station at Highway 89. Fortunately, in the middle of the descent, RD Leland opts to have us run a beautiful section of single track past some beaver dams and an awesome stream. This is one of the most best sections as it's totally runnable and visually amazing.

At temple fork, I took advantage of the facilities there for a nature break, and then picked up my first pacer, Bastian Cowsert. Bastian is a young, enthusiastic "newbie" to the world of Ultra-running. He's extremely fit, and I sense he's going to do amazing things. This was his first experience pacing, so we spent a lot of time talking about the process associated with pacing and crewing, as well as running. My goal was to make it to Tony Grove aid station before dark (because I only had my mini-headlamp with me as a "just in case"). I had a serious bout of stomach distress going, but again, just pressed through it and pushed as hard as I could up the long climb to the short descent into Tony Grove. We hit the downhill as the sun was setting, and ran the last section into Tony Grove aid station in the last of twighlight.

At Tony Grove I again used the facilities, ate some soup, and geared up for the night session with my high-powered headlamp, long-sleeve shirt, beanie cap and running gloves.

We headed out on another long climb which linked to a long, rocky single-track descent to Franklin Basin aid station. Bastian did a great job of reminding me to take my electrolytes on schedule, and we made great time. We got to the descent, and with my "uber headlamp", we able to run at almost a daylight pace. Very shortly into the descent, running at that "daylight" pace, I slammed my foot full-force into a large rock. I immediately knew I'd broken the small toe on my left foot. The pain was incredibly sharp and shocking, and even setting my foot down on the ground fired that same pain shooting through me again.

I had nothing with me to deal with the break, so I changed up my stride by riding the inside of my left foot and trying not to put any weight on the outside of that foot at all. This would come back to haunt me, but at least it let me get to the Franklin Basin aid station at slightly better than a snail's pace. Arriving at the aid station, everyone kicked into gear to get me "repaired" and back out on the trail.

Bastian was trading off pacing duties with Steve Proffit here, and as Paislee started getting ready to work on my toe Steve jumped in to help as well. Paislee started removing my shoe so she could tape my little toe tightly to the adjacent toe. Pulling off my socks, she saw the effect of my adjustmented weighting of my feet. I had developed a huge blood blister on my left big toe, and my right big toenail was totally black. Steve lanced the blood blister and Paislee drained it, applied antibiotic and a bandaid. She then taped my left little to it's neighbor, and taped up my right big toe to hold the nail on for the rest of the run.

I ate some soup, and headed out with Steve for the next 15 miles. Paislee's work on my toes was perfect. I could run normally with only nominal discomfort. I felt confident I could finish, and might be able to still finish in under 30 hours. Steve and I put the hammer down and pushed on to the Logan River aid station. As usual, there is a long climb followed by a downhill into the aid station. This year, the aid station was moved to be near the river crossing. The river was still quite high, but the crossing looked like it could be done without getting wet... almost. I made it to the last 6 feet, stepped on a moss-covered rock (that simply looked black) and in I went. Both feet soaked in ice-cold water, I continued on into the night.

The cold water actually may have done some good, as it may have reduced the swelling from all the damage. Steve pushed me through the tough climb up to the steep descent down the ski slopes of Beaver Mountain where I picked up my last pacer, Sean Housel.

Sean is an experienced pacer and would take me the remaining 24.3 miles into the finish. I had some significant GI distress at this point, so I took two Imodium, and after a couple sessions with the bathroom at the aid station, we headed out. The climb up to Gibson Basin aid station is only 5 miles, but it's all steep. Sean kept on me to keep the pace up, and by the time we hit Gibson basin, we were still on track to be under 30 hours.

From Gibson, we traversed the mile long basin (in some seriously cold temperatures) and climbed up an ATV trail to the summit where we started our descent into Beaver Creek aid station. Leland calls this descent "The Teeth of The Bear", as it's super rocky, steep, and with my toes in the shape they were in, painful. With the water at such a high level, this crossing was even more sketchy than Logan River. The aid station crew had laid a log across a 10' gap, and had found some long branches that served as "balance poles" we used to maintain an upright position as we crossed the frost-covered log. Both Sean and I nearly went in, but we somehow made it across dry... many others were not so lucky, with a few actually getting completely submerged after falling off the log.

I again made use of the facilities at the aid station, ate a little soup, and Sean and I headed out for the last 16 miles of the race. This section has a long climb up to a summit (where you catch a glimpse of Bear Lake), a descent to the Ranger Dip aid station, and then the last climb (also the steepest of the race) up to the 4 mile descent into the finish. I was struggling at this point to keep my pace up, and Sean was constantly checking his GPS and then telling me to increase my pace... I was obviously falling behind my sub-30-hour goal. As we came into the Ranger Dip aid station, I knew I was in risk of missing that goal. I knew the climb out of Ranger Dip would be a big factor.

We left Ranger Dip, and I steeled myself for the 800'-in-0.8 mile climb out of the basin. As we hit the climb, I focused on simply pressing without resting. I had to rest for about 30 seconds four times, so only lost about 4 minutes or so to resting, and crested the top with 70 minutes remaining to finish a 4 mile descent... sounded simple enough. However, this descent has several "special circumstances", including it being too steep for me to run most of it. It was exceptionally painful on the toes as each step is a "decelleration", and by the time I'd reached the point where it leveled off enough to actually run again, I was in serious danger of missing the 30 hour mark.

The descent was hard on Sean as well, and he'd fallen well behind me on the descent. I figured once it leveled out he'd catch me so I checked my watch, put my head down and started running as hard as I could. Sean caught up with me about a mile from the finish on the gravel road leading to the main highway. We were keeping about a 9:45 min/mile pace at this point, and as we crossed the highway over to the side where the turn to the finish area was located, I could hear Steve Proffit yelling.

He was standing at the turn into the finish area, which is about 100 yards from the actual finish line. As I made the turn, I finally understood what Steve was saying. He was yelling "less than a minute left!" Suddenly adrenalin took over, and I broke into a full sprint for the finish.

I came through the finish totally blown out. Leland was standing there and grabbed me and told me "you're under 30 hours!".

I stumbled and fell down onto the grass, completely exhausted and simultaneously elated.

Somehow, with the broken toe, and the GI issues, we managed to get me through the finish in 29 hrs, 58 min, 12 sec. A new personal record for 100 miles!

This event totally proved how much of a team event a 100 miler is for me. Without Chriss and Paislee as my crew/medical team,

and without Bastian, Steve, and Sean being outstanding pacers, I wouldn't have made the 30 hour cutoff.

I can't thank them enough for all they did this weekend! As usual, Leland put on a first-class event, and it was a great experience! It won't be long and he'll have to go to a lottery!

The OZONE Experiment

So two weeks ago, I tore the anterior capsule in my left knee. Fortunately, this is a "minor" injury compared to ligament or cartilage damage, but it was still painful and temporarily debilitating. Not a good situation in light of the fact that the BEAR 100 is only 4 weeks away! I went to my doc, who happens to be a very progressive D.O. and a fellow athlete for some advice. He suggested injecting Ozone (yes, three oxygen atoms) into the knee. Apparently, this technique has been pioneered in Europe and used to treat similar injury in Professional Football (Soccer) players.

Ozone injection has been investigated and shown to have therapeutic effects on inter-articular joints affected by Rheumatoid Arthritis, and the effects are apparently similar with injured health joints. Today was the first time I've run since the injection four days ago, and I have to admit I'm extremely impressed with the results. I did a short five mile run to "test" it out, and I had no pain, no discomfort, and no post-run swelling.

I'll do seven miles tomorrow and see how that fares, and then ease into my normal training program and build up to the Bear with hopefully minimal degradation in my performance... here's to progressive medicine!

SpeedGoat 50K 2011 Race Report

Another SpeedGoat 50K is complete, and I finished this time! 2009 I injured my knee, 2010, I got incredibly sick and puked for 22 miles only to miss the cutoff at Peruvian Tunnel by 10 minutes... so I was pretty determined to finish this time :) The morning was overcast and cool, so the weather for the climb to Hidden Peak was ideal. Karl kicked things off at 6:30 AM as usual, and we headed out for a "nice walk in the woods". The course was as normal for the first several miles, but due to the snow the climb up to Road To Provo was simply "straight up" the snow field with a couple hand lines anchored to help out. I chose to run with trekking poles this year due to having some significant Patellar Tendinitis in my left knee and figured they'd help me on the downhills to limit the impact to that knee... turns out they were pretty darn handy climbing up the snow field, and very helpful throughout the day due to the incredibly steep climbs and descents that make up virtually the entire course.

I made hidden peak at 9:02 (2hrs and 32 min), so well within my expectations, fueled up and got out of there four minutes later. The descent to the saddle, and subsequent climb to Mt. Baldy went well, but I was definitely "babying" my knee and so the descent off Baldy and down to "Larrys Hole" aid station at the bottom of Mineral Basin was a little slow and I got passed by several folks, but was still feeling really good. From Larry's hole up to the saddle, and then down to Pacific Mine was pretty punishing, and as steep as that descent is, I found myself having to slow way down to keep my knee from protesting too much.

Again, I was passed by several runners, but my goal was to simply finish this year so I kept my pace where it was despite my desire to keep up. Once down in the basin where Pacific Mine sits, there's a couple of rolling miles along the foothill to the aid station which aren't too steep, and I reeled a couple of them back in :) At the Pacific Mine Aid Station I think I "over indulged", as I felt like "Thanksgiving Aftermath" and had some significant pain in my stomach. Also not helping at all was the stagnant air, lack of cloud cover, and ever-increasing heat on the hike out to the ridge above Mineral Basin. Heading up the climb, I began to feel increasingly uncomfortable and slowed down considerably. As I neared the ridge above Mineral Basin, I decided I needed a push, and so I took a 200mg, time-release caffeine pill, along with some Motrin to limit the swelling in my left knee. This was the ticket!
I took a picture of myself with Mt. Timpanogos in the background, started to have some increased energy, and as a friend caught up with me I was able to hang with him along the ridge, and on the descent into Mineral and up to Larrys Hole Aid Station.


I did decide to "wallow in some mud" on the way down from the ridge, as we were essentially running in a stream from the melt-off, and I slipped and went down hard in the mud and rocks. I popped up and kept running, but knew I was going to feel this one. ;)

At Larrys I chowed on some watermelon and ginger ale, a banana, and some s-caps, and then headed out. Due to the snow, Karl decided just to set a bunch of flags straight up the 40-45 degree slope,
and it was PUNISHING! I arrived at the cat-track at the top, and headed across to the Peruvian Tunnel Aid station. I arrived at 2:14, 46 min ahead of the cuttoff. One point here... this is an AGGRESSIVE cutoff. Many folks miss this cutoff each year. It's just another part of what makes the SpeedGoat the most difficult 50K in North America. From a pure-effort standpoint, it's harder than most 50 Milers.

I felt great heading down the Peruvian Gulch, and the climb up the Cirque was super tough, but it was fun to pass some hikers who were struggling along the trail; they were only 2.5 miles into their hike ;) I also managed to pass a couple of the guys who had passed me on the climb out of Pacific Mine. I arrived at Hidden Peak again at 3:15, and left at 3:20 for the 5.5 mile descent to the finish.

The run to the finish was really sweet, as I managed to keep my knee from arguing too much, and made good time... and passed 6 more people who had passed me earlier. I finished feeling really strong at 4:44 (10 hrs and 14 min elapsed time). Not super fast, but I felt great about it considering the circumstances. A great day in the mountains!