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, 5th or 6th 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.
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