Like the canyon

Ohhh, where to begin with this one….at the risk of making the whole report sound like one big excuse for a lackluster race…let me just get this outta the way right up front…It wasn’t an A game day for me…more like a C-.  It started early…lockng my car door with it still open, throwing keys on the seat to take off my jacket right before the start, bumping the door and watching, in slow motion, as it closed locked, with keys inside….Well Sh**! Well at least my waistpack and drop bags were sitting on the hood instead of the front seat next to my keys.

Off to the start and we were under way under an already too warm starry sky and a crowed river trail.  I felt like crap…No excuses, I really felt terrible.  I was l clearing my throat every five seconds and felt winded at an easy pace.  My buddy Tom, a well know heckler, caught on to my throat clearing and for the next ten miles every time I coughed, it was echoed in an exaggerated way by Tom, who soon had a back up group of several other O-towners all hacking away in unison at every wheeze out of my clogged lungs.   

I had a pretty nasty cold a week and a half before the race and hardly ran a bit, but mostly it seemed confined to a sore throat and a headache.  When that went away, I assumed I was over it.  I had felt tired and super low energy the week leading up to the start, but assumed it was mostly work stress and long hours and hoped an easier day or two before the race would bring me around.  Given where I was at in the first hour of this race, I knew something was up. 

Up the first climb, hanging with the group I usually run with, but I was at a full red line effort, when it shouldn’t have been.  I tried everything, slowing down, speeding up, hitting my inhaler again, nothing seemed to shake the heaviness in my lungs and legs.  It was bad enough that we were running behind Brian B and a couple of other guys and he finally turned around and asked “who’s running on half a lung back there?” Yep, that would be me.  I have felt bad in this section in previous years, and been able to rally on the long descent into Hobble Creek canyon and go on to finish strong, so that’s what I was hoping for again this year.

Wasn’t to be this year, We left the aid at Kolob Overlook, I watched the O-town group pull away on the slight downhill and just couldn’t get moving.  Jeff B caught up to me here and we ran together for a bit, he was looking strong and said he was hoping for some redemption after his melt down at the Bear 100 last year, which was his last race and the last time I had run into him, it was in the middle of the night just before the Logan River aid station, where he was walking down the road in the middle of a bad, bad bonk. We talked for a bit, and then he took off strong and went on to finish in the top ten. 

My next plan to rally was on Hobble Creek road.  I told myself to run every step up the road at a good steady, pace to see if I could shake off whatever it was that was ailing me.  I ran the road, but it was slow and with a lot of effort.  I hit the gate aid station at mile 26.5 in about 4:30, which was about the split I wanted at that point.  What I didn’t want was to be standing in the aid station, hands on knees gasping for breath like I had just run a 5K. 

Leaving Hobble Creek, the race follows an almost flat dirt road for a few miles.  I could barely manage more than a walk.  I would shuffle along for a bit, then as my heart rate came up, I would get winded and back to a walk.  Pretty much miserable at this point. 

One thing I have learned is that in these longer races, you have to problem solve. So that’s what I was trying to do as I pretty much crawled up the road.  I was congested, I ached everywhere, wasn’t sure what that was about, I hit my inhaler a couple more times, and remembered I had an Allegra D stashed in my pack.  I took that and decided I would sit in the next aid station for  a bit, drink, eat, get cooled down a bit as it was starting to get hot.

Sitting in the aid felt great, getting my respiration down, eating, pounding 4 cups of Coke, waiting for the Allegra and Ibuterol to hopefully kick in.  Lots of runners coming through, I even borrowed a used wet towel from a guy.  My next plan was to get through the next 4 miles to the Little Valley aid, if I felt as bad as I had to this point, consider dropping out there, rather than risk a deeper meltdown on the long, hot and steep 14 mile section between there and the only other place to bail out, the last aid station at mile 47. 

I headed out for Little Valley, walking at first and not feeling great, but in a few minutes I seemed to rally a bit and started to run a little.  Things seemed to be coming around, my lungs seemed clearer and my heart rate wasn’t shooting up on every little rise in the trail.  Finally! I thought. I held a good pace all the way up the climb, passing a few people who went by me while I was sitting in the aid.  Starting the short decent into Little Valley aid, I felt ok, not great, but was getting  it done, passing a couple more runners and catching up to two more. 

I started to evaluate my race and realized the sub 10 hour I wanted, and knew I had in me, wasn’t going to happen, but I figured  I could still get in under 11 hours, and probably around 10:30.  As I got into the Little Valley aid, I wrote off dropping as I was feeling slightly better.  I decided to take another long pit-stop, and get myself ready for the 8 miles up to Windy Pass.  I rudely pulled a chair into the shade under the aid station canopy and made myself at home. I switched out my waistpack for my Nathan pack to be able to carry more water.  Something I almost didn’t do, but now am very glad I did. Pounded a little more Coke, ate some delicious watermelon and was soon calling out “runner number 3 out” and stated the long uphill haul.

  The first mile or so went by great, and was way more runnable than I remembered.  I felt pretty good, and the trail was gorgeous, tall pines and aspens, green grass and shade.  Good things weren’t to last today, and it all started to unravel quickly.  I noticed my lungs getting tight again, my heart rate was up too high, and the body aches were back, along with a headache.  I hacked, coughed and spit over and over, trying to clear things out. I hit my inhaler again, 5^th or 6^th time in 7 hours, didn’t even touch my wheezing lungs.  I was only about halfway up the initial climb out of the aid, I still had a rough 2 mile traverse and the dreaded Bozung hill to climb before getting to the Windy Pass aid station. 

I got through the rest of the first climb ok, and the traverse, was slow but not terrible as it is slightly downhill, which I could handle as long as I went slow and kept my heart rate down.  It helped that it was a beautiful section of trail with awesome views to the north and west.  Approaching the big climb up to Windy Pass, called Bozung Hill after the race director, I knew it would be a monster.  I stopped to water the bushes and get myself together to motor up the 1200 foot climb in less than a mile.   

I knew from the first uphill steps I was in trouble.  I was breathing and moving like I was at 14,000 ft.  Slow steps, and rapid breath.  I tried to keep moving, however slowly it was, but after 10-15 steps, my head would start spinning and my vision would fill with sparkly things.  I just couldn’t get air to the bottom of my lungs, I was wheezing like an old diesel truck and barley moving at all. 

And this is where it got hot! Roasting hot, like boil water on my head hot! The “trail” isn’t really a trail at all, it’s just kind of a dirt line, straight uphill through the scrub brush and low growing Aspen trees. No shade at all, and with the foliage, humid and muggy.  There was a breeze, but it seemed to be hitting the ridge just to my left and skipping mercilessly over my head to shake the leaves on Aspens that were 8ft tall.  I am certain I cursed John Bozung in five different languages through here, which is stupid because I only know curse words in English and Spanish and because I signed up for this godforsaken hill when I sent in my entry form.  I don’t think I was really in imminent danger of death, but I know this is as close to death as I have ever come in a race, and maybe in any physical activity.  The higher I went, and the hotter I got, the worse my breathing became, until it was pretty much a full on asthma attack.  I hit the inhaler twice, stood with my hands on my head for what felt like 10 minutes, watched to world spin and tried to concentrate on getting a little air in and a lot out.  Never before, and hopefully never again will I feel that bad.

Finally cresting the ridge after a very slow and scary last quarter mile, I was relieved to see Ryan, a running buddy of mine, and another aid station worker on the hill just in front of me.  They were working at Windy Pass and had come out to re-mark and section of course that was confusing.  He was on his way back, so it was good to have some company for a few minutes, even though he mostly had to listen to me whine about how terrible I felt.

Slowly and painfully into the aid and a welcome chair to sit and get things back under control.  I felt bad, I think I ate more than my share of melon that Jim and the other volunteers had hauled up there on their backs, and drank more than my share of hard to come by water, but I defiantly received first class treatment from everyone there.      

Within minutes of me sitting down, the best thing that happened in hours came about.  My good buddy, neighbor, and running partner Cory J rolled into the aid station. He was having some struggles of his own, so we sat a commiserated for a bit, then decided to walk it in to the finish together.  We had a blast walking down form Windy Pass, talking and taking it easy.  We got passed several dozen times I think, but didn’t care.  Eventually we caught up to a pacer who had twisted an ankle and was walking in too.  We invited her to join our rolling picnic and the three of us cruised into the last aid together.  She had a ride there, and I am a little ashamed to say Cory had to threaten me with broken bones to keep me out of the car and a ride to the finish.

Running down the pavement, Troy O caught up to us.  He was having a rough day too, so the three of us ran in together, talking, running and walking as we felt like it.  We crossed the line together. 

It wasn’t the race I wanted, and I can’t help be somewhat disappointed by that.  But some go good, and some go bad, at least they do for me.  It’s cliché to say I know, but I do learn way more, and am motivated way more, by the bad races than the good, and am grateful for the lessons learned out there on this one.

The best part is seeing good friends do very well.  Go fastie Jon finished top 10 and won his age group.  BJ, the good running buddy I battled it out with at Antelope 50 this year had another great race finishing just behind Jon. The Goat killed it again, winning the Masters age group and finishing top 5  I think. Matt C had great race as well.  I saw Kendall from the blog, he had a great race! And got to meet Lulu, who looked like she was having a blast as the official finish line photographer and medal awarder.

Oh, and my keys…I almost called the locksmith of Rock to Window, but Cory was able to jimmy rig a wire outta something in the back of his truck and pop the lock…though we did have fun explaining to everyone walking by why were breaking into a car in the parking lot…we finally resorted to telling everyone there was a wallet on the seat.     

Easy 45 minutes of recovery running.  Legs feel pretty good, no soreness and not alot of fatigue.  Guess that's the upside of not going hard on race day. Right knee/lower-outside quad/ITB bugging pretty bad though.

Another easy 45 minutes. Some improvement on the knee soreness.  ART Sean thinks it's a tight outter quad, he had a prorper name for the muscle which I can't now recall.  Hoping fro a speedy recovery.

Easy two hours. Legs feel absolutely fine, no fatigue.  Breathing was a little funky again for the first hour but seemed to resolve.  Knee feels absolutely fine going up, flat, and mellow downhills, but any steep downhill is painful, classic ITB pain.  Improving everyday though, two more ART/ASTYM sessions scheduled before the race. Still hopeful for a Big Horn start on Friday, may be a short race, but at least at this point I am feeling like I could give it a go...I wouldn't hesitate to pull out if my knee gets out of control though, no sense blowing a whole summer and its too late to get my money back anyway so I might as well try and get my $180.00 worth of aid station offerings.    

All right....it's been a while so I'm lumping alot into one post and this my be the longest post ever on FRB, but I included pictures so at least that part should be entertaining.

Last I left off I was getting ready to start the Bighorn100. Thanks for the well wishes before the race, but I didn't end up going.  Things came up at work the week before and there was no way I could have left town and run a big race without getting some resolution. 

Things did resolve to a point where I felt like I could go late Thursday afternoon.  I really wanted to run, put a call in to the Goat and had him ask the race officials about a late check in.  While waiting for him to call back, I completely packed for the race, including drop bags, in less than an hour.  Goat called back and I was ok to check in on Saturday morning, but, understandably, they couldn't gurantee my drop bags would make it to where they needed to be.  I knew others running, and I knew a few had crews, but something about driving 8 hours, starting a 24 plus hour race with out knowing for certain I had drop bags where and when I needed them left me not really wanting to put out that much energy on an unsure outcome. 

Truth told, my knee wasn't 100% so the odds of actually finishing where low anyway. Goat did well and finished strong as did several others I knew running.  Hated to miss it, was one of may favorite races last year, but there will be more races.  Besides, had I run I would have missed out on what I was able to run over the last week, which I would have traded Bighorn for in a minute. 

First off, I had an absolutely incrediable run up Ben Lomond last Saturday.  First time up this year.  I left the trailhead with no watch, a water bottle and a gel.  I love how light I am able to travel now.  A few years ago this outing was a 70 ounce Camelback and a packed lunch. I left the car just after 9:30 and ran every step up perfect trail to the summit marker.  It felt effortless and I never pushed a bit. Curious, I pulled out my Ipod to check the time, I made the top in 1:37, give or take a minute as I was basing it off the time in the car.  Pretty decent for me. 

A few cruiser runs early in the week  around the local trails then I was off to Driggs, Idaho for work on Wednesday  afternoon.  Last time I was up there a snow storm kept me from exploring the trails in the area, so I was really looking forward to getting in some running, with the ultimate goal being to summit Table Mountain, which is a peak directly above Driggs and directly West of the Teton massif.

(View of the Tetons from where we are working in Driggs)

(Table Mountain is the flat peak top-center)

Wednesday evening, I got out on an explroatory run on a trail up Teton canyon on gorgeous single track through aspens and pines in the fading light. A few miles in, I ran into a couple of moose who refused to yeild the trail.  Noise, banging sticks, nothing, they would trot up trail around the next corner and stop.  After a couple rounds of that I decided not to press my luck and headed out, getting back to town just in time to take my guys out for some of the best Mexican food I've ever had.  Gotta love Driggs.

The next moring I was off fairly early to run up Table Mountain.  I had heard a lot about this peak.  Gorgeous hike with stunning, up close views of the West side of the Tetons, so I was excited to give it a go.  I had glanced at a map, and it seemed there was one way up, and it was the trail I was on the night before. 

All started off well, then after three miles or so the trail took a turn that required wading a fairly stout creek that was running full from snow melt. A couple of freezing steps in, knee deep, then thingh, then waist deep for a couple of steps.  Freezing!  I had to repeat the crossing a couple more times as the trail continued up river. 

(Freezing creek I had to wade)

A mile and a half later the trail took a turn into a large north facing basin that was covered in snow.  The trail disapeared and after a bit, footprints in to snow faded out as well.  I knew where I needed to go. I could see the peak, I just needed to figure out a way to negotiate the terrain to avoid the many steep, icy snow slopes above.

(Snow filled basin. Table Mountain is the peak on the horizon)

I made my way up exposed boulders and mostly dry groud to the ridge just below the peak.  I hadn't seen a soul all day, but as I got to the ridge I noticed two people about a half mile away, walking toward the peak from the west.  I wondered where they had come from and if they had followed the actual trail.

(view of the Tetons from the top of Table)

The views from the peak were better than I thought.  Tetons close enough you could almost make out people on the lower saddle.  Sheer drop to the east down into Alaska Basin, looking northeast to the top of Cascade Canyon. Best of all, a clear view of the Southwest couloir route on the Middle Teton. That got my wheels spinning.

As I left the peak, I asked the couple still walking up where they had come from.  They said the "Face route" and that it was snow free.  All I had to do was follow the flat ridge for a mile or so and I would run into the trail.  They warned me it was steep.  I took off happily trotting along the flat alpine ridge, noticed a trail in the hillside a mile or so away and set course for that spot.  As I started down the trail proper, I ran into tow guys hiking up that wanted to know about the snow up high.  I noticed he had a handheld GPS, so I asked how far to the parking lot.  He looked and said 1.4 miles. I thought, sweet closer than I thought.  Then he looked again and said  "and it's 2800 vertical feet."  What?!  I thought no way could a trail be that steep, maybe a bushwack, but not an actual trail.  I said, "wow, that's steep." he very casually looked up from under his camofluge ball cap, pulled a bandanna out of the pocket of his of his jeans, wiped his forehead and said "ya, pretty much straight down from here"  Gotta love Teton Valley folks.  Straight down it was, I don't htink I've ever run an established trail so consistently steep.  Literally straight down not hardly a turn let alone a switchback. 

Spent the afternoon working and considering my running options for the next day.  I really wanted to get to a properTeton peak.  The Southwest route on the Middle looked like the best option.  I was going solo, so needed something non-technical and the snow that is still lingering in abundance in the range limited alot of other options.  By 7 o'clock I was loaded up and driving over Teton Pass, hoping to make it to Teton Mountaineering before they closed at 8:00 so I could pick up a new mountain axe.  I wasn't planning on a high peak when I left home, so I didn't bring anything for snow climbing.  I was o.k going light, but an axe is pretty much required minimum equipment for an early season climb in the Tetons.

I slept in the dirt next to my truck right at the Lupine Meadows trail head.  I set  my alarm for 4:30, but was pretty suprised to wake up at 4:15 and find twilight on the east horizon and enough light to see clearly.  I felt tired, didn't want to get up in the cold morning air, so I rolled over and fell back to sleep unitl 5:00. 

(Beautiful morning starting up the trail)

Waking up, I stuffed down a cold breakfast, tried to shake off the grogginess, stuffed a couple of gels in my pockets, my lightest windshell in my Nathan pack along with a light pair of liner gloves and a hat.  I was at a bit of a loss about what to do with the ice axe.  With a proper pack I could attach it using the axe loops and be on my way.  No such thing on a Nathan runnnig pack.  Luckily  I was feeling inventive and happened to have the hardware to make the modification.  I now have what may be the first Nathan mountaineering pack.

(modified Nathan, Jacket sinch straps and a small hole in the top with some tie wire to hold the shaft upright.  Held perfect running, couldn't even tell it was there)

I was able to make pretty quick work of the trail leading up to the meadows area.  Amazing how much easier that trail feels when your not hauling a rope and climbing rack.  Rounding the corner into Garnett Canyon has to be one of my favorite places in the world and the Middle Teton is front and center.

(Garnett Canyon and the Middle, might be heaven on earth)

Reaching the sign and creek crossing at the meadows, I was shocked to see how much snow was still hanging on.  The snowfields were all the way down to the creek.  Snow coverd the south facing wall above Spalding Falls, and it looked like it was solid snow all the way up the the saddle between the South and Middle Teton's.  I sat on a rock for a bit and thought through things.  I was in running shorts, a light shirt and trail shoes.  Not really equipped for a icy snow climb, would seem crampons would have been a minimum addition to my gear list. 

I decided to start climbing the snowfields and see how it went, but told myself I wouldn't push it at all and if the snow as too hard or steep for running shoes I'd turn around.  Pleased to find the intial slopes soft enough that I could get pretty could bite in my shoes and my new axe added a little security in the sketchier sections. 

(Looking down the intial snow slopes to the meadows, this was taken on the way down)

I plugged along to the saddle and got my first good look at the Southwest couloir, I was really hoping it was snow and ice free.  Looking up the route, all looked passable.  There were some snow patches, but looked like I could pick my way up the steep slopes on mosltly dry ground.  I also got a good look at Table Mountain from the other side, couldn't belive it was just yesterday I had stood on that peak.

(looking across at Table from the saddle)

(Looking up the Southwest Coulior to the peak .  The route follws the rock ribs in the center of the pic to the v shaped notch in the rocks where it steepens (read: got sketchy) and climbs to the summit, feeling good here, my Garmin has been beeping low batery for a bit, I made to to here in 2:40)  

I made my way up the inital slopes of the final pitch and felt great.  I was surprised by the steepness of the terrain.  It reminded me of the climb to the upper saddle on the Grand, but slightly steeper. The wind was starting to rip pretty hard from the west, and I was totally alone on the mountain, which was fine, but  the solitude and roaring wind did it add a bit of a creepy element to things, knowing if I blew it in any way I may be there for a while before someone came along. 

(Looking down into Alaska Basin from about half way up the Coulior. Notice Summer ice lake (? I think that's the name?) still frozen far below.  This is just below the "crux".  Rock'en some Chilli Peppers "Higher Ground" on the Ipod at this point)

About 2/3's the way to the peak I looked up and my heart sank a bit.  I knew there was a steep section right before the top that I recalled from climbing this same route 15 years earlier. I was now looking at the section I remebered only it was filled with a ice and rock hard frozen snow.  I would guess the steepness at 45-50 degrees, with broken up rock slabs on both sides.  It was only maybe 200-300 vertical feet, but enough that a slip above halfway up without being able to self arrest would almost certainly end in injury or worse. 

I started up, just to see how it would feel.  The running shoes weren't cutting it.  Even lite crampons would have made this section simple, but felt sketchy in shoes.  I decided to scranble on the rock next to the snow.  I took off my gloves and started to climb.  The terrain was easy, but definatly 5th class. These were not happy moments.  I knew if I blew anything, it would be a short, but uncontrolled fall onto the ice, then a fast out of control slide to the rocks. There were a couple of moments where I had to really tell myself to stay calm and relax. 

Within a few minutes it was over and I was scrambling up the last bit to the summit.  The top of the Middle Teton is a crazy place.  It's no bigger than a sofa a drops nearly vertical on 3 sides.  I was cold, the wind was ripping, and I was still prety freaked about reversing the sketchy section on the way down.  Needless to say I didn't stay long.  I looked at my Garmin to see how long it took me to summit, dead! Damnit! I pulled out my phone to snap some pics and noticed it was 8:47, so around 3.5 hours. 

(looking at the Grand from the top of the Middle)

(looking East down Garnett Canyon from the summit. Trail starts left of the lake)

Heading back down, I got back to the crux, scrambled down the rock to a point where I didn't feel comfortable down climbing. I ventured tentatively out onto the snow slope by sinking my axe all the way to the adze and trying to step in the frozen sun cups in the snow. I'd get a secure palce for my feet and move my axe down as far as I could, and kick my feet down again.  I down climbed the snow this way.  It was slow, but felt much more secure than climbing on the rcok, I should have gone up the same way. 

Soon enough I was back in the warm sun and cruising down the rock and snow feilds back to the meadows.  I had great fun glisading down the now super soft snow.  I passed a few parties on their way up to the Middle.  They were all decked out with crampons, gators, big packs, axes, all the gear.  I felt like a bit of a goof running by in my shorts and short sleeve shirt skating along in my running shoes with an axe rigged to the back of my running pack.

Getting back to the Meadows, I found a dry spot, sat down a relished to view for a bit.  Such a stunning place, surrounded by huge peaks and waterfalls. Everytime I climb out of Garnett Canyon, I always feel a bit giddy when I get back to the creek in the meadows area.  The stress of the climb melts away and the joy fully sets in.  Same feeling I get at the finish line of a hard race. 

I relaxed for a bit then took off to run the four miles back to the parking lot.  I cruised the trail a hard as I could while still trying to take it somewhat easy on my freshly healing knee. I felt great and still had plenty of energy all the way out.  I hit the lot and looked at my phone again, I had made the round-trip in 5:20 or so, wasn't sure to the exact minute I left the lot. I jumped in the truck and drove straight to the Jenny Lake boat launch and walked straight into the lake and sat down, much to the shock of the nice family from Iowa sunning on the rocks.  Soaking in Jenny lake is always the reward for a hard day in the Tetons.

(The classic Teton view.  I took this from the highway on my way home.  The Middle Teton is the peak left of the tallest one in the center which is the Grand Teton)

Got out for an easy hike to Malan's basin today.  Three peaks in three days, my kind of a week.

Stats sum up from Saturday to Saturday:

Miles: around 55 

Vert: 19,250 ish

Knee: holding up ok though not 100%.  ART Sean thinks its a tight quad and glute medius that is causing the trouble, rather than a tendonitis or brusitis, so working it isn't making it worse as long as I take care of the knots in the muscles. 

I hid from the heat like a coward and spun on the trainer for an hour in the cool basement.  Legs needed to break anyway, right?

Hot 50 minutes on the local loops.  Ran into Forrest heading up Malan's, seems the go fasties got him signed up for Speedgoat. Legs felt good, nice pick up at for the last 15 minutes.  The test hill I've been using at the end of all my local runs to see how the knee is progressing was pain free for the first time since Squaw Peak.  Sweet. ART/ASTYM after.

Late one up Malan's with Cory.  We left just before 9:00.  Cory's always wanted to try and run the whole hill, well tonight was the night.  I ran in front of him, coaxing and encouraging all the way up.  It was a push but he made it, ran every step.... pretty cool to see him do something he never thought he could.  He's got Hardrock in 10 days, so hopefuly that'll boost his confidence some. Nice and easy on the way down in the dark with one light between us.

No time and no desire to run in the heat and smoke tonight.  Trainer spinning for a hour again. Good even effort, kept it over 220 watts for the hour with good roll up to 280-290 for the last 10 minutes.