This race was like life itself. Ups and downs on the trail: 21,000 feet of elevation gain in a dozen or so major climbs. Ups and downs physically and psychologically: from the enthusiastic first climb in the early morning to a grueling afternoon under a hot sun, from a rejuvenation in the early evening and when the sun had gone down to a churning stomach and vomiting on the trail and losing too much water, to the final death march in excruciating pain for 30 miles with a failed kidney. I ran this race without support, pacers or crew, so I had to strategically place drop bags at aide stations: a pair of shoes, a jacket, long sleeve shirt, headlamp, and of course extra food.
The course took us from a suburban park in the college town of Logan, Utah up and into the mountains north and west, up and down, again and again for 100 miles and finished with a steep descent to Bear Lake and the small town on its shores, Fish Haven, Idaho. It was dark at 6 A.M. when over 200 hopeful ultra-runners lined up at the start. We climbed on paved streets for a mile or more before entering the forest on a single track path. We would encounter only short stints of pavement until the final few hundred yards at the end. The next 98+ miles were nearly all either on single track trails or jeep roads.
The first few miles climbed steeply into the mountains west of Logan. I chatted a bit with Blake Wood, a former Hard Rock 100 winner and one of only four people to have finished Nolan’s 14, a discontinued ultra that went up and over 14 14,000 foot peaks in central Colorado. I ran Nolan’s 14 with him in 2001, but only finished eleven peaks myself within the 60 hour time limit. A month later I went back with the winner of that year, Mike Tilden, and we set a Colorado speed climbing record for 14er’s climbed in a 24 hour period. We climbed eight in 23 hours, from La Plata to Yale. But I digress.
After a couple miles I settled in at the end of a long conga line of runners, walking some, running some. I was content to let the runners ahead of me set the pace. One hot dog jumped up in the bushes to get around me. I passed him later on the downhill. We had a hundred miles to run after all. No sense getting all rambunctious early on. After passing the first aide station, we crested out about 8500’ as the sun came up, after which we enjoyed a nice downhill. A few miles later at a 140 degree turn a trail marker had disappeared and several of us wandered off onto a false path that was not really a trail. It took about five minutes and after some others came behind we found the dislodged trail marker and got back on track. Dropping steadily now on a single track trail we proceeded to lose nearly all the elevation we had gained as we came on the third aide station at Leatham Hollow around the 20 mile mark.
From Leatham Hollow station we ran up a dirt road for just three miles before another small aide station (I didn’t stop) and entered a single track trail that climbed steadily for a few miles and about 2,000 feet of elevation gain through a beautiful canyon with fantastic limestone outcroppings and a babbling brook replete with stunning waterfalls. Leveling off in the high country the trail was quite run-able for a couple miles, and then we came on another dirt road before descending to the next aide station. I was starting to get “cooked” as the heat of the day grew more oppressive. Another climb followed by another descent. Long time. Finally reached 37 miles and I was really “cooked.” The next aide station was Temple Fork at 45 miles. I staggered into Temple Fork out of gas and overheated. There was no chair to sit in, so I found a shady spot and laid my sorry carcass down, doing my best to ignore concerned aide station workers. Finally someone asked if I would like a chair to sit in and located one for me. I spent about ten minutes here before getting going again. Crossed a road, got on another trail, and proceeded to climb, up and up: I walked the whole way up to about 8400’ elevation. I ran this race with my Suunto altimeter watch, so much of my calculations were based on elevation. I had a cheat sheet with the aide stations and their elevations and mileage points but this watch didn’t track mileage, only elevation. The next aide station, Tony Grove was on a lake at 7800’. I didn’t realize we had to climb to well over 8000’ then drop down to the aide station. When I finally got there, nearly 52 miles into the race, I was spent. I sat down again, changed my shoes, put on a long sleeved shirt, got my headlamp, and got ready for the night. The lights went out on the following segment.
As the sun set I experienced a second wind and a recovery. I was running again and feeling good. This didn’t last long though as my stomach started a rebellion and I vomited up much of what I’d been eating for the last two hours as well as volumes of water. I didn’t replace the lost water fast enough and a few miles later my right kidney began to fail. Dark night of the soul. Long climb. Stopping on the side of the trail; Runners passing; Are you okay? I’m just taking a break. Despair. Push on. And on. Trail markings sparse and infrequent. I remembered the pre-race briefing. Someone mentioned they would be leaving a couple hours ahead of the race and dropping extra pink ribbons on the trail. What a blessing! Those pink ribbons on the trail were absolutely helpful. Apparently some hunters had diabolically removed markers. Long time. Finally arrived at Beaver Lodge, mile 75 or so. Indoors. Warm. Too much time. Need to get calories. Chicken broth, no noodles is all that I can keep down. I’ve got the formula for calories that I will follow until the end of the race. It takes time to drink chicken broth though. It’s hot. Got to go. Push up jeep trail to Gibson Basin. Cold. Glad I had a jacket. Tights would have been in order. 31 degrees. Frost. Slight wind. Tilting with kidney pain. Barely going. Long time down to Beaver Creek Campground. Creek crossing. Aide station helper tried to direct me on log over the creek. No way. I couldn’t do that with my lack of balance from kidney failure. Finally I just wade across. 6:15 A.M., a fire. I take a break and dry out socks and shoes by the fire and wait for dawn. 7 A.M. time to move. Long, long climb. No one is passing me. I must be doing okay. Finally reach the elevation of the next aide station, problem is there are still many miles to go. Long time. Ranger Dip Aide Station. More kidney leaners. Camp fire. I’m not staying. On. On. Three hours and fifteen minutes to travel seven and a half miles, mostly downhill. That’s the way of the world when you’re down and out. Long and hot. People passing. Are you okay? What can I do to help? Give me a new stomach. Can’t do that. Hot. Long time. Finish line. Lie down on that nice green lawn. Finally.
I took two naps of about an hour each. After waking each time I had to pee like a race horse. My kidney recovered. It was trying to tell me something. Stop running.