Details to come as the post-race fog lifts!
Here's the race report:
This year’s Wasatch 100 began with my alarm going off at 2:45 a.m., so I could get up and get ready and make the drive to downtown Salt Lake to catch a bus. I consumed half a banana, some oats, and a bottle of Ensure. Those would be enough calories, and of the right kind, to prime my system without the risk of an upset stomach in the early miles. Melissa and I made it up to 600 S. by 3:45, so I had some time to settle on the bus before it departed at 4:00.
The ride to Kaysville was quiet and uneventful. I just kicked back in the seat and tuned in to the conversations around me. We arrived near the start around 4:40, which only gave us 20 minutes to hit the restrooms and for lining up to began our journey. I had the need to clear out my system, so I joined the line of runners in wait of an open port-o-potty. I checked my watch regularly, and saw the time winding down ever so close to 5 a.m. I finally had my turn at just a couple minutes to go, and could hear the race director making time announcements. As the final 10 second countdown commenced, I found myself finishing my business and hurriedly approaching the back of the pack.
While arriving at the back of a pack of runners in a 100 mile race might not seem a big deal, I had not envisioned myself in that position. I had wanted to start at least in the middle of the pack, because the first 10 or so miles is on single track trail. Starting at the rear would define the need to make strategic passes whenever possible, and to make up for lost time later on. I did manage to pass a few runners along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail, but as we hit a junction and started heading east and at an ascent, I just had to remain patient. I went with the flow, and just plugged away at a very casual pace.
Around 8.8 miles, as we gained closer to a climb called ‘Chinscraper,’ we arrived at Cool Spring, which also doubled as an unofficial aid station numbered ‘0.’ I took the opportunity to top off my pack bottles, down a few peanut M&M’s, and some orange drink the volunteers had provided. I really should have continued onward and waited until the Grobben’s Corner Aid Station, at mile 13.1 for some fluids. The effort I had expended to move up a few positions was eclipsed by runners passing me by and so I’d now have to settle back into a slower than hoped for pace.
The climb up Chinscraper was much less daunting to me as it had been last year. I remember looking up at the rock face and thinking, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” It was like “What else is this race going to throw at me in the next 90 miles?!” I steadily made it over the top, and to the greeting of a gentleman with a smile on his face and cowbell in his hand. It was great to have this land feature cleared, and I took advantage of the stretches I could do some mild running.
Runners continued along some more single track, but then it gave way to a narrow dirt roadway. It was nice to proceed at my own pace, as the course opened up. I reached Grobben’s Corner shortly thereafter, and had my bottles topped off. I was able to get in some decent running from here until the Francis Peak Aid Station, at mile 18.4, as it was an overall descent along an even wider dirt roadway.
I had a loose time goal of finishing the race under 30 hours. I brought a couple split charts along with me based on ideal pacing per the mileage and topography of sections between aid stations. The first goal would have me at Francis somewhere between 9:30-10:00 a.m. My actual time in was at 10:10, and a time out of 10:19. Although I was over the latter of the time goals, I wasn’t too worried. If I had some good stretches, that time could have been easily made up. Two parts of meeting my sub-30 goal were to run a more of the flats and declines than last year, and secondly, to get in and out of aid stations rapidly.
I changed my socks, topped off my bottles, ate some potatoes and fruit, and grabbed a couple new bottles of Ensure, and a bag of S-Caps at Francis. I tied a soaked bandana around my neck to aid with cooling. I also headed out of sight from others to water some foliage. It was good to see that my hydration was in check! I was out in 9 minutes, whereas 11 minutes last year. Not a big improvement, but an improvement nonetheless!
The next stretch to the Bountiful B Aid Station (mile 23.8) was uneventful. At a short distance of just 5.4 miles, I just worked away the miles. The next section, heading to the Session Liftoff Aid Station is not much further at 5.6 miles, but is not one of my favorites. The trail meanders in many directions, is quite steep at times, and it was starting to get warm. I could swear there were a few false summits as well. There are a few stream crossings of which I was able to soak my hat and bandana in. At Sessions, I was greeted by a friend, Todd Galbraith, whom had worked the same station last year. He was like all the other volunteers I encountered throughout the race, as he was attentive to my every need. He topped off my bottles; I grabbed some potatoes, a popsicle and banana pieces and was on my way in 3 minutes.
I could definitely feel the heat as I headed along the exposed sections heading into the Swallow Rocks Aid Station area. It didn’t really bother me though as I had maintained my hydration, and my bandana and hat combination kept me relatively cool. A few runners looked like they weren’t fairing too well however, as I made an ascent and passed them by. I was grateful to not be troubled as they had appeared. I found out later on that one of them DNF’d at Big Mountain. A male runner fully adorned in pink and wearing a tutu made a few of the miles during this stretch interesting. This was a person exhibiting the toughness to run 100 miles, but had the comic relief to show a softer side!
Just prior to Swallow Rocks, I texted Melissa that I would be about an hour from arriving at Big Mountain. She was then able to coordinate with my first pacer and my parents their arrival for a rendezvous. At Swallow Rocks (mile 34.6), I had another popsicle, and the volunteers topped off my bottles. I had a 17 ounce collapsible water bottle pouch stowed away in my shorts pocket that came out for the first time. I filled it and sipped it down over the next mile or so. With the day’s heat still rising, I figured it would be good supplemental hydration to the bottles in my waist pack. The volunteers were from the Cottonwood Canyons Foundation. I became acquainted with them back in June when I fulfilled my service work as a requirement for entrance to the race. I am grateful for all they do behind the scenes that allows outdoor adventurists to enjoy excursions to the trails.
Big Mountain (mile 39.1) was a welcome sight as it was the first time I would see my wife and parents, and I would also have my first pacer. My goal time was somewhere between 2:40 and 4:30. I arrived at 3:39 p.m., so I felt assured and hopeful and wasn’t worried about making up any time. As the first weigh in of the day, I hoped my fluid intake to perspiration ratio had been adequate. I came in at only 3 pounds low, so that was of little concern. My parents grabbed my bottles to top off while I cleaned up and body glided my feet, changed my socks, (I had some cramping up as I pulled my feet towards me, that came as a surprise) grabbed two new bottles of Ensure, some more S-caps, and an extra water bottle. I had run out of water during this stretch last year, and did not want a repeat. After 17 minutes, my first pacer, Dr. Mike Killpack (whom is also my primary care physician) and I headed onto the trails.
I enjoyed having some company with me, and it was great to have the mental diversion. I was still feeling fresh and had really enjoyed being part of the race so far. Mike maintained a fairly casual pace and I just kind of kept behind him and loped along. I had a craving come upon me for some watermelon as we gained close proximity to the Alexander Ridge Aid Station (mile 46.9). When we arrived there, I was lucky enough that they had some, and it was delicious! Mike said it was the best tasting watermelon he’d ever had! It’s amazing what running will do in unlocking the taste buds.
A stretch from the aid station, which sends runners eastward along an undulating and grassy service road, left a lot to be desired. It really seemed to go on and on wasn’t very stimulating. Some dust clouds had moved in, and we could pick up the scent of the Great Salt Lake. This was one of many places where I was glad to have a pacer. We finally made a turn and into some single track of Scrub Oak, and occasionally swampy areas. It was a nice descent to the west and towards the Lambs Canyon Aid Station. I passed by an acquaintance whom had rolled his ankle and was in very low spirits. I felt bad knowing that his race was to end just beyond the half way point.
The Lambs Canyon Aid Station (mile 52.5) felt like a big party. Mike and I arrived to some of his family, Melissa, my parents, my mom’s friend Becky, and my second pacer. It was exciting to have a cheering section and to know I was more than halfway done. I enjoyed seeing this aid station in daylight, as the sun had already set upon my arrival there last year. I weighed in at a loss of 7 pounds down from starting weight, which is exactly as had occurred last year. I spent 20 minutes doing what had become routine, in changing socks, more bottles of Ensure, S-Caps, and topped off bottles. I also changed my hat, and grabbed my Petzl headlamp. My friend Stefan Wells was to pace me until Brighton.
We had some great conversations as we headed up the paved roadway through Lambs Canyon and onto the mountain trails. I enjoyed the distraction, but yearned to conserve my respiration as we made our climb to Bear Ass Pass. I kind of went through a low point where fatigue began to set in and I became short of breath. I downed 800mg of ibuprofen, also known to some as ‘Vitamin I.’ I let Stefan do most of the talking and I resorted to one word responses. The sun had set and we were running by headlamp and flashlights. Once we began to drop down to the roadway in Milcreek Canyon, I started to feel some rejuvenation. We stopped for me to take a quick break at an outhouse, and then we began our ascent on the paved roadway towards the Upper Big Water Aid station. A female runner, I would gauge in her 50’s, was coming towards us. It came out that someone had given her some wrong information and she thought she had gone too far along the roadway. I assured her to turn back around and head up the road. Stefan was quite the socialite and engaged in conversation with her most of the way as we made our roughly 3 mile speed walk on the asphalt. I was in good spirits, but once again, lacked the desire to expend energy in conversation.
I was delighted to see the Upper Big Water Aid Station (mile 61.5). Stefan and I arrived at 10:38 p.m., which was towards the tail end of my goal between 9:18 and 11:00 p.m. Aside from my usual aid station routines, I slipped into an outhouse to address potential chafing issues. I had become acquainted with a product called Brave Soldier at Wasatch last year, when I had some very uncomfortable skin to skin contact that had flared up. A generous runner handed me some from his pack, and I never again had issues. I wanted to be proactive this year, and it ultimately paid off. After 13 minutes, Stefan and I headed back to the course.
I really don’t know why, but I had a complete turnaround in my state of being upon leaving Upper Big Water. I was rejuvenated, and felt great. It really astonished me how good I felt and with the cool of the night setting in, I took advantage of it. I picked up the pace and began running any run able section I could find. We came upon a group of runners hanging out on the trail, and one of them complimented me on my shoes. It turned out that they were there in support of one of the founders of Altra shoes, Brian Beckstead, who was having a rough time on the course. He had been on pace for a 24 hour finish, but then started into a downward spiral. I shook his hand and thanked him for his work with the shoe brand. I continued on, and Stefan dug deep with me, but couldn’t keep up. I felt guilty leaving him behind, but he assured me that he’d find his way and didn’t want to slow me down. I thanked him for being part of the event and for being so selfless. We then parted ways.
I made my way to the Desolation Lake Aid Station (mile 66), gulped down some Coke and a packet of Gu Rocktaine, then continued on. Less than a mile later, I was on Red Lovers Ridge, and could see the lights from the Canyons Resort and Snyderville. There was very little wind and the temperature was just right. I was really feeling good and was able to pass many runners as I traversed the trails into the Scott’s Peak Aid Station (mile 69.9). This was only a 2 minute stop, where I gulped down a couple cups of Mountain Dew, aka, the Ultrarunner’s Elixir. I texted Melissa so she and my parents would have time to drive up and see me at the Brighton Lodge. I remember feeling fairly trashed and fatigued by this point last year, and my then pacer, Larry Scott kept tugging at me to pick it up a bit. All I could really do was a brisk walk/hobble at best.
From Scott’s to Brighton, I continued feeling energized and looked forward to meeting up with Melissa and my parents , and to have a pacer once again. I steadily descended down the Great Western Trail and onto a couple or so miles of pavement. The asphalt was actually a nice change as it gave my legs a steady surface to finish my way into Brighton. It was invigorating see the lodge and to know that it was one ‘Morgue’ I would find my way out of!
At the Brighton Aid Station (mile 74.6) I really wanted to make it a quick stop, as last year it had cost me nearly an hour. I arrived at 2:43 a.m., and my goal was somewhere between 2 and 3 a.m. The sub 30 goal still appeared within reach. I weighed in at only 2 pounds down from my starting weight, so my constant hydration, coupled with the cooler nighttime temperature, brought my weight back up. I drank some Coke, pieces of banana, and thwarted any future chafing. My feet were beginning to have some hot spots, so I changed out my socks and applied some Vaseline in large quantities between my toes and on the balls of feet.
I headed out of Brighton after 18 minutes with my third and final pacer, Layne Koldewyn. We climbed our way up to Catherine’s Pass and briefly chatted with a runner from Boise, Idaho that was completing Wasatch as the final leg in the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning. Now that’s an accomplishment: 4 100 miler’s in a summer! Layne and I chatted throughout the climb and it was refreshing having new company along for the journey. We made it into the Ant Knolls Aid Station (mile 79.1) and spent a brief 4 minutes topping off our bottles and I ate some potatoes, and some watermelon. Yeah, a weird combination, but it tasted good after nearly 24 hours of racing.
Somewhere between Ant Knolls and Pole Line Pass, the sun began to rise and the sight of Mt Timpanogos, as many runners would attest, was a sight to behold. I enjoyed having daylight once again, but in no way, wanted to be out in any heat for a second day. My right calf was really starting to cramp up and my feet were to the point of blistering in the former hot spots. I was beginning to have a second low point of the race, but even lower than the prior evening. Layne and I pulled into the Pole Line Aid Station (mile 82.3) at 5:51 a.m. My goal time was around 5-5:30 a.m., so the time was slipping away, and I now lacked the reserves to rally for that lost time. I attempted to address my blistering feet. I had neglected a change of socks in my drop bag, so I just cleaned my feet the best I could, and slipped my socks back on. With topped off bottles, more bottles of Ensure, S-Caps, and nibbles of aid station food, Layne and I headed back out. It had been a 10 minute stop.
The trails just kind of came and went as we put the miles behind us. I fell into a zone of getting it done, and nothing more. I’m sure Layne could see my mental shift as my voice became monotone and non-engaging. I paused momentarily to top off my bottles at the former Rock Springs Aid Station, (mile 86.3) and we continued on and through the not-so-fun sections of the Dive and the Plunge. They were much worse than I remembered them being from last year. They are gnarly and wicked, and that still holds true whether your legs have 87-88 miles on them or not!
We arrived at the Pot Bottom Aid Station (mile 92) and I took out for the second time, my collapsible bottle. I had run out of water in the final miles last year, and did not want a repeat. I sat down for a moment or two to get things in order in my pack and water bottles. I could have just stayed there and had some apprehension in getting back out for the remaining miles. The morning was starting to warm and my legs had lost any speed miles ago. My feet felt like they were on hot coals with each step, and my right calf was really stiff.
Layne was very encouraging and asked as we went the feasibility of my running or fast walking abilities. I assured him that my legs were shot and that I really wanted to go faster to get the whole thing over with. He had tons of patience, and seemed empathetic at my pathetic state of being. He really helped me to hold my head up high and to continue plodding forward. We arrived at the final aid station, Staton Cut-off, (mile 94.69) at 10:19 a.m., and only spent a minute there. On a good day, with fresh legs, I could have easily run the final 5.31 miles in less than 41 minutes. With trashed legs, it took me double that. I had given in to the fact that a sub-30 finish was not to be, but I knew my time would still be a great improvement over last year.
We covered the rough dirt road from Staton at a snail’s pace, but once we made it to an improved dirt road above Soldier Hollow, the mental boost it gave me helped to reenergize my pace slightly. I didn’t exactly enjoy having to drop down on some asphalt for a 2 mile horseshoe below Soldier Hollow, but at least I knew the end was near. My finish time was 30:40:28, which was an improvement of 4:00:58 from last year. I suppose that’s something to be grateful for.
Melissa, my parents, sisters, and their families were at the finish cheering Layne and I on as we came across the line. I was really flattered that they would take the time to come up on a Saturday morning to see the conclusion of my journey. They stayed for some post-race photos, and to see how I felt about the race as a whole. I laid down on a sleeping bag on the grass for a few hours, just to kill some time and because I was really hammered! Melissa and I then headed over to the Zermatt so I could take a much needed shower, and to relax some more before the awards ceremony and dinner at 5:00.
We headed back to Soldier Hollow with ample time to get parked and lined up for the buffet –like dinner at the pavilion. By this time, the weather had done a 180 turnaround from when I had finished, and it was now a downpour of rain. The late finishing runners had been dealt not only the heat everyone else had experienced, but now they were getting soaked and muddy. The rain continued through dinner and the awards were expedited to have everyone on their way.
With my belt buckle and plaque in hand, Melissa and I headed back to the Zermatt and crashed for the night. That hotel bed felt wonderful! The next morning was a real challenge to get up and head back home. My legs had stiffened up and every step was a crippled challenge. Melissa was awesome in providing herself as a crutch to drag myself along with my battered body. I had a tremendous appetite, so we stopped in at the Hub Café in Heber before driving back to SLC. There were many stares as I very gingerly made my way inside and to our seats. I was wearing my Wasatch 100 race shirt with great pride, and hoped some of the gawkers would catch on to the nature of my disposition.
I cannot say for sure if I’ll find myself content with two finishes in the Mecca of “100 Miles of Heaven and Hell,” and time will only tell as my soreness fades, if I will take on the challenge in the future. I had been quoted as saying “Never again!” upon completion of the event last year. I suppose those with selective memories, such as myself, choose to remember only the grandeur of the accomplishment!
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