Team Traverse Blog

New Blog Location

2010-06-08T16:48:00.004-05:00

For those who read the blog, we have a new blog location at www.teamtraverse.org!

We will have full bio's, race reports and more!!!

All of our old posts have also been migrated over.

Joe Prusaitis Pocatello 2010 Report

2010-06-04T10:07:00.000-05:00

Pocatello 17

29 May 2010

Pocatello, ID

joe prusaitis

Snow mixed with sleet smashes into us, driven by a 40 mph wind. Every inch of exposed skin on my left side stings from the assault. To protect my face, I pull the Buff over my left eye and snug down my hat. This leaves only one half-blind eye to find my way and two bare legs to do the walking.

Even though I worry terribly about Joyce, she seems to be doing fine. She's got 2 layers under a rain jacket, with mittens, heater packs, and a wool hat, but only shorts and leggings to protect the lower half of her body. I help her adjust the jacket hood for better protection, but now she can only look down and right. She raises her left arm to protect her face just a little.

We are on the wrong side of the ridge, a knife's edge, in the path of the hawk. There is no protection from the wind except for a few bushes and some scattered rocks. The wind blown sleet and snow turns the air white, reducing visibility to little more than 30 feet. I search for markers and have trouble finding any. Not sure if they're blown away by the wind, covered by snow, or I simply cant see them.

I go ahead to search out the route, but only far enough so that I can still see Joyce behind me. I sit behind a rock and wait for her, then I go again, and again. When I reach a ridge of broken rocks, I not only have Joyce with me, but also a few other ladies. Maybe they trust me, as I seem to be going the right way, but they wait for me to start again each time after I stop.

The wind is howling so loud I cant hear anything other than the sleet and snow pellets beating into the side of my face. My hands are cold and swollen, fingers numb and tingling. The inside of my right leg is bright pink and stinging like mad. I reach down to touch the skin, but can't feel my fingers... only cold. I need to get Joyce off this mountain. She has Reynauds Syndrome and must be hurting a hell of a lot more than I am.

I stop to adjust my gloves and the Buff, take the time to snap a few pictures of Joyce as she climbs up from below. I figure that a few pictures might do more justice that all of these words. They are the only pictures I will take. I try to use my fingers but they don't seem to be working correctly, so I push the button with the frozen nub of my knuckle. I notice the pockets of my pack are full of snow.

I am quite comfortable with running mountain races and thought I had taken all the right precautions with food, water, and gear, but this storm is a whole lot more than I had bargained for. A not so subtle reminder that in the mountains the weather can change in an instant. Nothing should be taken for granted... ever! Ok, so I have been duly reminded.

My hat is ripped from my head and flung down the mountain. I go after it and get lucky, then take the time to remove my pack and shove it inside. By the time I'm done with the diversion, Joyce and the others are well above. I hurry to catch up just as they top out and start down the other side. Our small group hurries down a snow covered jeep road, but we're finally out of the worst of the storm.

It's an awkward run on frozen limbs, sloshing in the snow and slopping in the mud. We bumble ahead searching for flags. Its almost comical, being stiff and cold, with the snow and the mud making every foot plant an iffy proposition. There is no certainty that one foot will stay long enough for the other to come round and replace it. Balance becomes a priority, with all muscles firing on every stride in order to stay upright.

Somebody is running towards us form the opposite direction and he stops to ask how we're doing. It's the RD and he's genuinely concerned. He tells us what to look for at the next critical turn that many have already missed. Following his direction, we go the correct way, and begin the long descent out of the cold.

Taking inventory, I note how my hands and fingers are still very swollen. I'd be in a lot of pain if I still had my wedding ring on. I'm so glad I removed it back at the start. It was such a minor thing at the time, the weather nice, the mood easy. We started the race at sunrise on the paved road with no warning of what was to come.

...just a few hours ago...

On a pretty single-track trail that rises easy enough for us to run, Joyce and I go around groups of 4 and 5 people at a time... until we reach a group running a pace we are comfortable with. Once on top, the trail settles into a simple traverse. In and out of each fold of the mountain, the trail runs fast and easy with excellent views all around. Its a beautiful morning... just a bit misty.

Ever so slightly, the mist turns to sleet. It feels pretty good coming from the Texas heat just two days ago. The only effect is a bigger smile. When the sleet starts to get heavier, we stop to put on our rain jackets and quickly hook back up with the same group of women.

Expecting the sleet to stop in a short time, it gets heavier instead. These mountain storms usually blow through pretty quick, but I'm all wrong this time. The beautiful single-track dirt trail becomes a sloppy wet slip-n-slide. We're ok with the mud and being wet, so we keep running, but it quickly becomes clear that we can't do as we please and just keep running. I bust my butt really bad, landing in the muddy path. When I get up to look behind me (to see if Joyce saw my comeuppance), I see her do the same... a graceful 180 half pipe, feet high, one handed landing, and face plant. Its so comical, we both laugh at each other.

I try a sort of ice skating glide when the trail is flat-ish, but more typically its rutted with one or two grooves. Its tough to keep both feet in the same groove and far enough apart for some semblance of balance. On the steeper descents, I simply stand still and slide forward. It becomes a game, a puzzle to solve, that I sink my thoughts into to. I check back to see how Joyce is doing and note that I'm either doing real well or she's not. I try to stop, but I can't, so I keep on sliding down the trail. The muddy mess becomes our new world all the way down into Gibson Jack.

I'm surprised that we're still under 2 hours. Without the mud, we might have been much quicker, so I'm pleased with our progress despite the handicap. Halfway to City Creek and feeling good, we stop to eat some food and top off our water bottles.

Going uphill on mud is not nearly as much fun, but it doesn't take long before we regain solid ground. The denseness of the sleet seems to be on the rise and its getting thicker, mixing with snow. We do not get much snow in Texas, so its pretty exciting. The markings take us off trail for the next turn and heading strait up the mountain. It's a non-trail bush-whack, but its easy to follow at first. All those in front of us have crushed the ground foliage to create a path through the rocks and cactus.

I love this sort of weather, the snow, and being out in the mountains. I'm feeling pretty good, climbing well, enjoying the run. I check behind me to see how Joyce is doing and realize she's back a good way, so I stop to wait. The snow is starting to come down pretty thick and its getting colder. Joyce is doing great and enjoying herself as well, so we push on. The snow is accumulating quickly on the ground and the wind is rising up as well. I stop to wait again, and repeat, as we climb to once again join the same small group that we've been with all morning.

Its so subtle that I do not notice exactly when it shifts, but the recognition is all at once when I realize that the snow is deeper and visibility is way down. Its about then that I feel the wind begin to bite. I go from comfortable to damned uncomfortable real fast. We're in a full blown blizzard before I recognize what's happening.

As nasty as it is, as cold as we are, we keep smiling. What an adventure! I know that what we are doing is dangerous, but still... we're living life at its fullest right now. Its exhilarating. Every time I check Joyce's mood, she's tuned the right way. Certainly, we'd rather our hands weren't so damn cold, but still, we're glad to be in it.

On the downhill side, heading to City Creek aid station, Joyce tells me she has no intention on going back out. We both have some gear in a drop bag at the station, but neither of us has blizzard gear: winter jacket, waterproof snow pants, waterproof gloves, wool hat, and goggles. As good as I feel, my fingers are still tingling and my feet have yet to thaw, so I know better than to head back out into the deep freeze. I tell her I'm done too. We're surprised to see all our friends waiting for us when they should be well ahead. Somebody tells us the race has been cancelled, that its over. We hear snippets of info about where everybody is and who is still missing, but it'll take hours before we know all of it.

They have a car warm and waiting for us, but we're covered in mud and soaking wet. We peel off a few of the muddy top layers, including shoes and socks, then climb into the heat. It's disappointing, certainly... but there is nothing we can do about it. Back to the hotel to hose off, then a large lunch and our entire gang retires for a few hours of bowling and beer.

--
www.traversetrailrunning.com

Mad City 100k 2010 - Melanie's Report

2010-04-10T23:20:00.000-05:00

Sent to you by Josue via Google Reader:

Mad City 100k 2010

via My blog by aniejoy on 4/10/10

When I registered for Mad City, I had decided to run this year's race as a practice run for next year's race. The goal: to get on the USATF 100k team in 2011. This is a BIG goal. Especially being I had never raced a road ultra before today. My training for the last 2 months has been much different then what I am use to. Faster stuff on pavement vs. slower stuff on trails. But I've LOVED training like this. I love running hard and I've loved feeling like I'm getting faster while improving my endurance with crazy tempo runs and track work. My time goal for this race this year was to run close to eight minute miles...8 minute miles are slower then pretty much all of my training has been. But being this was a 62 mile race, eight minute miles would be good.

Mad City 100k was the USATF 100k Championship race for 2010. Meaning it draws fast runners and offer prize money to the top 5 male and female USATF finishers. This race is a rolling hills 100k made up of 10 10k loops. I actually expected the course to flatter then it was. I would call the whole thing rolling, with a nice flat run way coming into the starting/loop/finish area.

At 6:30am the race began. I ran the first 30K with 3 great running women (Kristin Moehl, Angie Radosevich, and Jenny Capel). It was fun getting to meet some awesome runners and talk while running along for those first loops. But after 30K I was ready to pick it up a bit. So I did. Truthfully I am a bit of a loner when I run, and I was ready to just zone out and run. No more talking. Lap 4 was my fastest loop of the day, with lap 5 taking 2end for a "clocked" 3:58:10 50k. I say clocked because the aid station was just before the time mats. Meaning I stopped for maybe 1 minute to eat, drink and take an S!Cap before running over the time mats.

By the end of lap 6 my legs were starting to cramp. I did a mental check list of the possible whys and decided thess cramps were racing cramps. Nothing to be done but push on. Also on this lap, I caught the 2end place lady, Annette Bednosky. We hit the aid stations with in seconds of each other for a couple laps before my legs decided I was going to slow down.

The clock said 7:25 when I left for my last lap, in 3erd place. My legs still felt bad, but I pushed them anyway. I kept telling myself "8:20 or less. 8:20 or less", as I did my best to run up those long (though not steep) hills. At 8:02 I hit the 3.8 mile (of 6.2) aid station, downed some water and Mt. Dew, and pushed in to finish in 8:18:24. 3erd female, 10th person. Talk about thrilling! The website says I averaged 8:01.3 minutes for every mile. Woo-hoo! Not only that, but I now have a chance of getting selected this year to run in the USATF 100k World Cup. Craziness!

I still want to train for this race over the next year. I feel like I have a great shot at running quite a bit faster, if I put in the miles right. A GIANT THANK YOU to Joe, for helping train for this. I would have never done those workouts w/o someone having put them on my training plan. And I can tell they helped me out a lot. :)

Oh, I am sure some of my running peeps are just dying to know what I was eating and drinking today. While, I tried something new. In a race. I drunk like 10 cups of Mt. Dew today, I lot of water, about 2 cups of Heed, took 10 S!Caps and 10 gels. Nothing more, nothing less.

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Hells Hills - Joe Prusaitis Race Director Report

2010-04-10T22:26:00.000-05:00

Hells Hills
Smithville TX
3 April 2010
Joe Prusaitis
http://www.tejastrails.com/

The forecasted thunder and lightning past just north of us, leaving a
thick blanket of fog, but no rain. So thick, visibility was down to a
few yards. The dense fog made for an extremely dark beginning for the
fifty-four 50-milers at 5:00 AM, but the 16.7mi loop had been
completely pre-marked with glow sticks. They had 3 loops to run, and
it would be damned hot before any of them would be done with their
final loop. The fields of bluebonnets in the back forty would
surprise a lot of them. The race had been moved up 2 weeks partly to
take advantage of this. The gusting wind also created ripples that
ran through the red and blue flowers that covered the open fields.

An hour later, 86 50km runners started, still in the dark, but the
fog was thinning. Their course was but two 15.5mi loop. Pretty much
the same course as the 50-milers, but for one shortcut early on. We
start the final group, the 25km runners at 7:00 AM, just minutes
after the sun rises, such that all 252 runners are now all on the
course at the same time.

This course always starts fast, then slows rapidly as it warms up.
Few runners here are acclimated to heat running this time of year, so
as the temp ratchets up faster and further than they are used to, the
melt down occurs quickly. Loop one is fast, two is average, then
three is very very slow. Its been the same routine every year for the
last ten years.

Gergo Perlaky came in from loop one first, just 23 minutes after the
25km start. Seven minutes later, it was Stephen Baumgartner & Jared
Fetterolf. Gergo slowed 17 minutes on loop two, and Stephen gained 5
minutes on him, but Scott Eppelman and Paul Salazar were running
pretty constant and not far back. Loop three saw Stephen move into
the lead to take the win with a 7:57:48. Gergo held on for 2nd in
8:19:52, with Scott Eppelman moving into 3rd with a 8:22:42,
finishing just ahead of Paul Salazar, 8:25:55. All of them lost 15
minutes or more on the final loop. Olga Varlamova & Tracy Hoeg came
in one and two after loop one just under 3 hours, with Juliet Morgan
12 minutes later. Juliet moved into first during the 2nd loop on the
strength of her 2:51 loop split, while the others slowed to more than
3 hours. Everybody slowed more than 20 minutes for the final loop,
and Juliet held on to finish first in 9:21:27. Olga finished a strong
2nd in 9:29:52, with Tracy 3rd in 9:42:38. 46 of the 54 runners
finished.

The 50km dark start saved most of these runners from dealing with the
worst of the Hell's heat, but still, they got a taste of it. Rasmus
Hoeg & Travis Gillespie came in after loop one together for a 1:54
25km split. Five minutes later was Michael Lewis, Chris Chancey, and
Patrick Hall. Loop two, the final loop for the 50km, saw Rasmus roll
in to the finish first in 3:55:37, followed 5 minutes later by Travis
in 4:00:55. Patrick pushed ahead of the other two to take 3rd in
4:11:17. Amanda McIntosh led from the start to win the women's 50km
in 4:47:42. Samantha Lambert & Megan Haley battled it out with
Samantha taking 2nd in 4:56:16 and Megan 3rd in 4:58:09. 81 of the 86
runners finished.

The 25km started in the light and had one big 15.5mi loop, so it was
fast and uncomplicated. Jason Brooks led early on and had a 5-min
lead after 5 miles over Pete Mehok & Dave Walick. Pete closed and
caught Jason by 10 miles, and then they ran together until about a
mile from the finish, when Pete tripped and went down hard. The fall
separated the two for just a moment, but it was enough, even though
Jason fell soon after that. Both got up and went after it, with Jason
just barely holding Pete off for a fast finish with a time of 1:44:01
to Pete's 1:44:15. Dave Walick was only a few minutes back and took
3rd in 1:49:21. Cindy Salazar won the women's 25km in 2:20:08, with a
finish similar to the men's with Fanny Dufour-Oliver just moments
back in 2nd with 2:20:45. Mallory Cox finished immediately after in
2:21:24 for 3rd. 110 of the 112 runners finished.

Hell's Hills wandered through a variety of weather condition and
breathtakingly beautiful bluebonnets for a 10th anniversary event to
be remembered. It was one of the first hot days of spring here in
central Texas, so few were acclimated to the heat and humidity. Every
loop added another 10 degrees of temp, so the less loops, the more
enjoyable the run. The 50-milers suffered through 3 loops and many
based there plan for each loop on the last loop's condition, which
was quickly incorrect. The runner's finished to fresh cooked burger
and beer, a hot shower, and an evening of hanging out and story telling.

Nueces Report - Joe (Race Director)

2010-03-15T14:53:00.001-05:00

by Joe Prusaitis, Race Director
The setting was beautiful and the weather perfect for the 87 runners who started the first year trail race at Camp Eagle near Rocksprings Tx. I have a particular taste for the Hill Country of central Texas
and this latest gem was brighter than the all the others, so it was no surprise when it wowed the runners. The course was rugged as expected, and the aid stations laid out with care, but it was the natural beauty of the area that won the show.

There were 3 races, each starting an hour apart, with the 50 miler starting just 30 runners, with Josh Beckham leading from start to finish to establish the initial course record in 7:16:09. Steven Moore followed soon after in 7:37:07. John Reynolds finished 3rd in 9:19:40. The ladies were led by Olga Varlamova in 9:59:09, Oakley Gardner 11:04:58, and Jean Perez 11:16:21.

The 50km started 41 runners and was won by Rob Clark in 3:48:42, followed by Joe Constantino 3:59:28 and Max Gray 3:59:29, who were running together. Liza Howard, fresh off her wins at Cactus Rose and Rocky Raccoon, came in unrested and collared her 3rd win in a row with a 4:06:24. Amanda McIntosh was 2nd in 4:31:41, followed by Stephanie Huie in 5:24:07.

The 10km was our smallest field with only 16 runners but was no less interesting. Brenda Rodgers won the race in 0:58:27, followed by her husband John Brown in 1:02:30. Amanda Angel-Chua was 2nd in 1:03:07, with Marcia Inger 1:07:00 3rd for the ladies. Chris Aspra in 1:04:48 was 2nd, and 7 year old Adrian Haley in 1:27:45 was 3rd for the men.

This is a place you have to see to believe. We'll run it again next year the 1st weekend in March. Don't miss it.

_______________________________________________

Team Traverse Nueces ponderings (Dalton's Report)

2010-03-08T09:44:00.001-06:00

Nueces 50 Miler… 2010 inaugural run

To begin with, this will not be your typical verbatim account of everything I saw, felt, ate, drank, ran over, dodged, and regurgitated. Instead I'd like to simply focus on a couple of things I thought about during those long quiet times every ultra runner has during a long race where human contact is sometimes several hours in between.

The night before race start at the 'pasta-feed' I spoke with Joe and asked about the course… rocks, climbs, water crossing etc. He said he thought it was a lot like Bandera, except more rocks. I laughed out loud at this as many veterans of that notoriously tough course would. He also said, quote in Joe's brutally honest way, "Anyone who wears those little Vibram foot –gloves out here is dumb." and "Anyone who wears a racing flat out here is dumb." This disturbed me coming from Joe since I am still paranoid of reinjuring my newly healthy foot and I only brought my New Balance MT100's… a minimalist racing flat :^( So when the race began Saturday morning, I had it in my mind to compare various aspects of the two courses and see if my little footwear were going to prove worthy. Here is my take.

As far as the comparison between Bandera and Nueces courses, Nueces is a tougher course for several reasons.

- Nueces has more rocks… just like Joe said… no BS! Robert said "There is a reason they call it Rocksprings"… as in rocks come out of the ground from nowhere. At Bandera there are at least several miles of dirt between Chapas and CR, and many places along Three Sisters where the trail is semi-smooth caliche. Nueces is an endless ocean of unavoidable fist-sized jagged limestone and flint EVERYWHERE.

- Climbing at Nueces is similar to Bandera only longer. The major climb at Nueces up to Windmill is quite entertaining… a combination of Boyle's Bump and Ice Cream Hill rolled together. Endlessly long like Boyles but steep and rocky like Ice Cream.

- There are several "Bush-Whacked" miles of new trail on the course bearing the signature of J.P. A few places had me thinking "No sane four-legged animal would've chosen this route."

- The "Mind-Tease" factor. Every aid station along Nueces is situated where you see the aid station. You get within 100 ft, then the course jags left, sending you another few miles. The final station running you 15 feet past a raging party in the Pavilion only to send you back out another 2 miles before you finish.

- Water crossings… Nueces has several. Unless you have legs 4 feet long and willing to skip across small rocks risking a broken ankle, you WILL get your feet wet. These actually were refreshing to me personally… the river water was clean and cool, not cold.

Now for my first real review of my favorite trail shoe, the New Balance MT100… they performed flawlessly. I was expecting to be crippled Sunday morning from the beating the rocks gave my feet but I'm managing a fairly normal bipedal gait today. Mind you I don't run like your typical trail runner… I'm a forefoot striker, I don't bomb rocky downhills, and I'm very picky about every foot placement… all things I've learned from my foot injury … pain is a great incentive.

- The soles of these shoes, although low, flat, hard, and lack the usual cushioning found in a trail shoe, are by all respects bomb-proof. To quote my buddy Sharpie who ran the marathon in a pair… "The only rocks I feel are the ones in my shoe." well put. The 'Rockstop' plate on the forefoot gave me superior protection even when I wasn't so precise and crashed on a sharp piece of flint.

- The shoe drains like a sieve and dries quickly. I started and finished the 50 in the same shoes and socks, not once stopping to change. I had a small amount of marshmallow-foot afterwards but no more than if I had just been sweating during a long run on a hot day.

- The NB laces are awesome. Their bubble texture keeps them tied… period. I didn't retie once.

- The outsoles on these have just enough grip… but no more. The shallow little lugs release mud but give superior traction even on wet algae-slimed flatrock.

- Can you tell I like these shoes???

Overall Nueces was a really fun time. The remote location (zero cell phone service for 15miles/30minutes), the cozy accommodations (dorms, pavilion, bonfire ring, dining hall, log cabin), and all the cool activities after the run (zip-line, ping-pong, rock climbing, basketball, etc.) it made for a great weekend. I'm reluctant to share this information for fear it will attract a huge number of runners in next year's field… compare me to a fisherman who won't divulge his best fishin' hole. To those who weren't there at this inaugural event, you seriously missed out. It was a family-friendly (and beer-friendly for that matter) atmosphere with a challenging course and lots of extras to do afterwards. As I told Joe, he knocked it out of the park on this one.

Cold and Rocky, a Bandera 50k in Five Fingers - Josue's Report

2010-02-23T17:50:00.001-06:00

Photo by Joe Prusaitis, Race Director

I ran the Bandera 50k on January 9th in my VFF Treks. This was my second ultra distance in Five Fingers, the first one being the 2008 Hog's Hunt 50k.
My Bandera 100k in 2008 was a warm race with temps in the 80s. This time, it was anything but warm. This was to be Paula's first 50k and she was extremely excited and apprehensive. For a first ultra, she sure picked a tough one!
Paula and I slept in the back of the Xterra the night before and woke up to find ice forming inside of the windows. Needless to say, we did not get much sleep, but we did the best we could to stay warm until the alarm went off. It was too cold to get out of the blankets, so we made oatmeal and coffee in the Jetboil and ate some of my leftover birthday cake
The temperature at the start line was 9 degrees and we were bundled up like Everest climbers at base camp. I tried to look around to say hello to fellow runners, but could not recognize anyone. I had talked to my teammate John Reynolds about running together. He showed up at the last minute wearing every cold weather item he could find in his closet.
The first five minutes of the race were on narrow singletrack, and I focused on getting my toes warm before getting a bit ahead of the crowd. Joe's races have been getting a lot more runners, and Bandera was part of the Montrail Cup this year.
My plan for this race was to take it easy, I wanted to see how my feet would feel in Five Fingers during an ultra on this type of terrain. John also expressed the desire to "take it easy," and we settled into a relaxing run. There was a short point there where I got excited and started running a bit faster, but John and Larry caught up to me as soon as I stopped to remove multiple layers of clothing.
In a nutshell we had a wonderful time and chattered away like a pack of squirrels. Larry eventually had enough of us and ran ahead to catch Olga. I had never experienced this side of an ultra before, and it felt great to relax for once.
My feet felt great and I never felt like the Five Fingers impeded my run. Now, if this were Cactus Rose, I think the distance combined with the rocks would eventually wear and make this a difficult endeavor. My overall take on it is: If you want to race an ultra like Bandera above 50k on rocky terrain, you probably want to stick with a minimalist shoe such as the NB MT100's. However, on an easier course such as Rocky Raccoon, I could see racing with Five Fingers as a great option.

Ultramaraton Fuego y Agua 2009 video!

2010-02-22T09:15:00.000-06:00

Fuego y Agua from Tim Kneeland on Vimeo.

Cross Timbers 50 Miler - Dalton's Report

2010-02-21T21:09:00.002-06:00

Cross Timbers '10

I wanted to write this all down before I had a chance to remember it just as it really went. I hadn't even really planned on running this race… hence my late registration that didn't get to the RD until late Thursday night resulting in no packet for "Dalton" at pick up. Having got everything straightened out with a little schmoozing of the RD, I settled in my little Ford Ranger for a cold beer and "sleep". Between then and eventually finishing in 3^rd place overall I learned a few things this weekend I'd like to share.

1. "Dry counties" are an unjustified pain in the ass – I drove almost 3 hours passing numerous beer stores on the way to the race start only to find no beer to be had in Whitesboro, TX. Fortunately, a couple of college dudes at Allsups clued me in on where to score… just across the bridge in Oklahoma.

2. Ford Rangers are not the ideal camping vehicle – Flying solo, I opted to "sleep" in my truck. After tossing all night I was awakened at 6:43 by the RD's bullhorn "Trail briefing in 2 minutes for the marathon!" Holy crap, I was still in my street clothes!!! With NOTHING ready. So disregarding all laws of public nudity and decency, I stripped in the parking lot into my super-hero outfit of the day… shorts, TTR shirt, socks, and shoes, almost locking my keys in my truck along with my water bottle. Without my morning coffee, discombobulated, I made my way to the start/finish tent literally3 minutes before race start.

3. Cheap Wal-Mart napkins provide a multitude of life-saving uses on trails… see #2. Because of my oversleeping, there was no time for taking care of important morning rituals which ended up costing me a good 5 minutes of "alone time in the woods" plus the time of picking my way back through the pack along a crowded single-track.

4. 45-55 degrees and overcast is PERFECT running weather– As opposed to 10^o at Bandera and Capt Karl's 90^o with 100% humidty , the morning was like baby bear porridge… just right.

5. There is nothing like being healthy and uninjured!!!! – Having been crippled for the last 6months, today was the first time since Bighorn I felt able to just "GO"… I am so thankful.

6. I love Out-and-Back courses – for the marathoners it was never the same course. After getting to the turn-around I developed the mentality of a barn-sour mare and hauled ass home.

7. My New Balance MT100's are the best minimalist shoe… period. Josue you would really dig them.

8. "Shorter" races are so fun – not having to have to continuously monitor your fuel, electrolyte, water, weather, etc. made for a very relaxing free-for-all in the woods. I was on auto-pilot the first 7-8 miles when I said to myself "This is only 26 miles… why the hell am I running so damn slow?" This is when I pulled out the stops and let 'er buck.

So despite what could have been another disappointing attempt to regain my "Mojo" on the trail, my experience at Lake Texoma was one of the best in so many months… I might even go back.

Rocky Raccoon 50 - Melanie's Report

2010-02-11T00:05:00.000-06:00

Rocky Raccoon 50 mile race: "

When my wake up call came at 5am Saturday morning, I knew that today would be a good day for me to practice laying it all on the line under not so great circumstances. So much had not lined up for me to race well at Rocky Raccoon, but running is a mental game. I was ready to tackle this 50 miles with my mind...physical situations and the past weeks stress not counting. I know some of you want to know what was going on. Most of that takes way too much explaining and will have to be another blog. But I will fill you in on some of it. But BE WARNED. What follows is of a personal nature and some readers (especially males) my want to skip to the next paragraph now. I am going to write a little about this because I was actually looking for info on my situation and unable to find much...so maybe some ultra runner lady really does want to know. I know from training that I tend to run and feel crappy in the days leading up to my period. And luck would have it that I would be running this race either right before or during my period. But I knew this weeks back (that is a lot of why I didn't sigh up for the 100. Planing that type of bathroom break during a 100 mile race was very unappealing to me). So I woke up Saturday morning still unsure of how to handle this race...no period yet. But what about in 3 hours while I'm suppose to be running? I decided to play it safe and act as if this was my day one. I also told myself that I could still run well. Training isn't racing. I WILL race well regardless of how crappy I am feeling.

After a warm shower I dressed in my tinniest black shorts, black sports bra, Team Traverse jersey with the cap sleeves, Green Injinji socks and New Balance 100s. I ate a bagel with low fat strawberry cream cheese and plain fat free yogurt on top and drunk a Non fat Mocha from Starbucks w/ only 2 pumps of chocolate. I also took an S!Cap and drunk about 2 cups of water. My parents and I left the hotel at about 5:30am. I thought it would take us 45mins or more to get to the starting line b/c of the fact that over 700 runners were going to be at this race this year. But I have got to hand it to Huntsville State park. They did an amazing job of directing traffic. We were at the starting line a few minutes before 6am. Just in time to see the 344 100 mile runners start their race.

I chatted with a few runners as I waited for the next hour in the starting area. Joe (the race director and my coach) assured me that this course is still fast when wet. It had rained lots in the last few days and there were a few puddles on the course and mud. Joe said to just plow into the puddles, as the stickiest mud was on the outside of the puddles. Ok, I told myself. Run IN the puddles (so fun!). I also chatted with my friend Meredith about our goals for this race.

Before too long we were all off. I started towards the front, as the trails narrow out some and there were several hundred runners in the 50. The first 3.1 miles went nice and easy. My plan was to let my legs get warm and then just run at a comfortable pace that was almost hard. The aid-stations were (in miles): 3.1, 3.1, 2.68, 3.4, 4.4. Then repeat three times. I wore my waist pack so that I had easy access to water, gels and electrolytes. I was also very fortunate to have my Mom crewing for me. Meaning that she would be at 3 of the 5 aid stations with a new water bottle, more gels and electrolytes waiting for me to just grab and go. Having her there saved me several minutes over the course of this race. When I hit the 2end aid station (called Dam Road), a running friend of mine named John was there refilling runner's bottles. I asked him if I could leave my empty bottle for him to fill and pick it up on the way back thru in 2.68 miles (this aid station is sorta an out and back loop). He said sure. Being the Dam Road was BY FAR the busiest station, having John's help on all 3 loops probably saved me another minute.

This was my favorite section to run this year. Not only because it had the most mud, but because of the good sized puddle of water across the path. This puddle was about 2 cars long and came up to my mid-calf at the deepest part. When I saw it up ahead, I picked up my pace and plowed straight in. The cold water splashing on my thighs felt awesome! Especially during loop 3 when my legs were cramping. And my NB 100s draind just magically.

I finished the 1st 16.7 miles in about 2:08 and was feeling awesome. Loop 2 was over about 4:28 into this race and went by much the same as loop 1 had. I was still feeling good, but my legs were getting tight. By the time I hit 36 miles, my legs were cramping pretty bad. While I am sure I still have room to improve my race nutrition, I think that these leg cramps were coming more as a result of the push I was giving my muscles racing. I am soooo hitting the weight room harder in my next training cycle! When I had about 7 miles left to go, I told myself 'That is shorter then a tempo workout. NO GIVING UP- NO SLOWING DOWN!' While I wasn't running close to as fast as I do for tempo runs during those final miles, the effort was there. I was pushing hard and my legs were cramping bad. When I hit the last aid station, I knew I could still finish under 7hrs. But I would have to push HARD! With less then 4 miles to go, my GPS died. But I just ran on as if that GPS was telling me I could still make it if I pushed.

I crossed the finish line in 6:59:40. I had made it!! Under 7hrs!!! And I had worked hard to do it. But the most exciting thing to me was the feeling of 'I did well. I pushed hard. I can still do better.' I have lots of room for improvement. From weight training and nutrition to long runs and speed work. I am so excited to get back to training and race again! If I can get my mind to attack future races like I did this one, then racing will be something I love as much as I love training. Why? Because it isn't about the end result for me. It is all about the process of getting there.

An Ultra Experience in Nicaragua - Fuego y Agua 2009

2010-02-10T23:57:00.000-06:00

All photos are Courtesy of 2009 50k finisher John Frierson, please do not use these without permission

by Race Directors: Paula Ring and Josue Stephens

In it's second year, Ultramaraton Fuego y Agua became the experience no participant would ever forget. The turnout yielded a much higher

amount of local runners. The buzz from last year's race had peaked the

local community's interest, and many Nicaragu

an runners stepped up to the challenge. Joining them were severalseasoned runners from the United States, a handful of Costa Ricans, and a German.

Saturday morning, 50k and 100k runners gathered in anticipation of the early 4:00am

start. The weather was cool and breezy and participants were greeted with fresh Nica coffee and an assortment of home-made cakes from the bakery across the street. The explosion of fireworks signaled the start, and the runners were off into the dark. Several minutes later, two very confused-looking runners, Abigail Stephens and Johnson Cruz, arrived at the empty start line, and immediately tore off in pursuit of the other athletes.
Ironically enough, as the results would later show, Johnso

n, a local islander who had never run in a race in his life, came in first place for the 50k at 6:11. Abigail Stephens, the other late starter, took first place

female, and 3rd overall in the 100k at 13:18 minutes! First female, and 5th overall for the 50k was the talented runner Adria Owens from Colorado. Coastal Challenge champion, Costa Rican Ja

vier Montero, broke the 2008 100k course record by 44 m

inutes and took first place male in 11:08. The extremely challenging 100k had an almost 50% drop rate, with only 5 finishers.
The 25k runners also had a very difficult run ahead of them. The runners took off at 7:00am and headed straight for the 6 mile vertical climb up Volcan Concepcion. Two hours and 32 minutes later, local island runner José Briceño came tearing through the finish line for first place. First place female was Stephanie Andrews, a Canadian doctor interning for a medical program on the island. Overall, race day was a huge success. Runners were very challenged and inspired by the course and its beauty. Many swore afterward that Fuego y Agua was the hardest ultra they had ever run.

It goes without saying that this race could not have happened without the incredible support

of our volunteers and sponsors. Locals and foreigners (including Peace Corps) donated their time to this race. Volunteers and runners alike were also integral in the success of our pre-race trash cleanup day, and our post-race Calzado Para Ometepe kids 5k.

The objective of Fuego y Agua is not only to host a race, but also to help promote awareness of the island, its culture, and the forests that thrive on the volcanoes. The trash pick-up day was a huge success. Most of our runners and volunteers participated, and several locals joined in along the way.
Calzados Para Ometepe 5k could not have happened without the huge support of Natural Doctors International (NDI). Over 350 children participated, 270 more than 2008! NDI helped transport the children from different villages all around the island to the start line, and with their team of extraordinary volunteers, managed to match each child with a pair of donated running shoes. Several of our runners from the ultramarathon, along with their families, came out to help support the event as well. It was beautiful to watch so many excited children in their new running shoes blaze away along the 5k course.

Our 2010 challenge is "run the 100k in under 12 hours and we will refund your entry fee."

Thank you to Robinson Espinoza, our island manager and race organizer, we could never have done it without him. Thanks to all of our volunteers and to all runners who donated shoes, Tim Kneeland, Adria Owens, Patrick Gaines, Brad Quinn, Jason Simmons, Gordon Montgomery and more...

Thank you to all of our sponsors:

-Natural Doctors International for Calzados para Ometepe 5k organization and support (Tabatha and crew, you are all amazing!)

-Enercon Engineering and 25k finishers Danielle Nelson and Justin Lahrman for their generous donation of shoes!

-Traverse Trail Running for shoe and gear donations

-Pearl Izumi and Hill Country Running Company for shoes and sponsorship

-American Cafe & Hotel in Moyogalpa for sponsorship (Bob and Simone were amazing)

-Totoco Eco-Lodge for sponsorship (very nice place to stay on the island)

-Hacienda Merida for the Aid Station and sponsorship

-Hammer Nutrition and Amanda McIntosh for electrolytes and fuel

-One World Running and Michael Sandrock for shoe donations

-UltraSignup for providing such an excellent service

Posted By Josue Stephens to corriendo hasta el fin at 2/10/2010 10:49:00 PM

Joe's RD - Rocky Raccoon 2010 Report

2010-02-10T22:05:00.000-06:00

The air/moisture content is so thick, that it easily slides under many layers of clothing and introduces a cold that is unexpected in balmy Texas. The skies are clear and a last quarter moon is showing. It's 41 degrees, the wind is calm, and the humidity is riding high at 85%.

The Rocky Raccoon course circumnavigates the perimeter of a lake that sits in the center of Huntsville State Park. It's a pretty setting, docile and relaxing, with an endless supply of boardwalks across the swampy areas. The 100 mile course is a 20 mile loop that is repeated five times, with aid stations at roughly 3 mile splits. So many in fact, that many runners start with a single water bottle or none at all. The terrain is soft & forgiving, with pine needles and leaves scattered across the length of it. The terrain does roll a bit, but mostly it's the roots that are the demons on this course. It has been raining the last few days, so everything is wet & damp. This area drains well, so there should be no negative impact on the runners, but it makes the Dam Road aid station support very difficult. For a variety of reasons, this course is fast, and a lot of runners will attempt to run it faster than they have trained, so the first loop is typically very quick.

344 100-mile runners check into the Dogwood start area, and we start the 100 mile race at 6:00 AM sharp. An hour later, 296 50-mile runners check into the same start area, and we start the 50 mile race at exactly 7:00 AM.

The 50-mile course is a 16.7 mile loop that is repeated three times, with the same route and aid stations as the 100 milers, except for a shortcut on the Dam Road loop. The 50 milers will merge with the 100 milers on the first loop. There are now 640 runners on the course and my aid stations are getting slammed. Because of the multiple loops and the race participation, each aid station will service 2300 runners and Dam Road 4600 runners. There will not be any breaks from when it starts for at least 24 hours. 1500 gallons of water was hauled up muddy roads these last few days and I expect we may haul even more, along with all the other supplies in food, tables, tents, propane, stoves, chairs, blankets, and endlessly on. Napoleon's army may have looked quite similar in makeup and design.

A handful of runners finished the first 20 mile loop under 2:40, about an 8 min pace, or a projected 13:20 finish time. More packs followed soon after until the Dogwood turn-around was buzzing with the business of running long distance. A few held onto that pace through loop two, but most saw the error of that strategy and backed off. The pack started to stretch out, with only a few minutes separating each runner. Greg Crowther, followed by Ian Sharman, then Tony Clark, and Eric Deshales rolled in and out, leading the men's pack. The women's pack was much the same, except for the surprising Liza Howard, who not only held her own against some talented competition, but also started moving up in the overall field against the men.

Greg lost only a few minutes between loop one and two, and a few more on loop three, but fell off a fair bit on loop four as the miles piled on. Liza Howard, Jamie Donaldson, and Connie Gardner were all within a minute of each other on loop one, and within 3 minutes on loop two, but started to spread out a bit more on loop three. Liza had won the very rugged Cactus Rose 100 miler a few months ago, taking first overall, so I knew how strong she was, but I don't think that anybody outside the area knew who she was. Not only did she not fade, but she started to increase her lead as well. Greg Crowther finished in 14:58:32 and Liza Howard finished soon after in 15:45:03 for 2nd overall. Tony Clark ran a smart race for 2nd male in 16:28:06, with Eric Deshaies 3rd in 16:37:13. Jamie Donaldson was 2nd female in 16:54:14, with Connie Gardner 3rd in 19:04:23. 217 100-mile runners crossed the finish line with 91 of those under 24 hours, for the most finishers, but the lowest finisher's rate in the 18 year history of this 100 mile race... 63%. It was a pretty day, but during the wee hours, temps dropped into the low 30s, and the cold started to nibble away on those who were reduced to a walk.

100 mile splits
2:38:31 2:38:31 / 2:41:41 5:20:12 / 2:48:59 8:09:11 / 3:04:03 11:13:14 / 3:45:18 14:58:32 Greg Crowther
2:39:52 2:39:52 / 2:42:49 5:22:41 / 2:57:10 8:19:51 / 4:37:52 12:57:43 / Ian Sharman
2:41:50 2:41:50 / 2:54:20 5:36:10 / 3:07:56 8:44:06 / 3:31:28 12:15:34 / 4:12:32 16:28:06 Tony Clark
2:48:58 2:48:58 / 2:54:08 5:43:06 / 3:15:03 8:58:09 / 3:29:01 12:27:10 / 4:10:03 16:37:13 Eric Deshaies
2:38:31 2:38:31 / 3:03:14 5:41:45 / 3:23:28 9:05:13 / 3:34:03 12:39:16 / 4:08:31 16:47:47 Paul Hopwood
2:49:58 2:49:58 / 3:07:17 5:57:15 / 3:22:09 9:19:24 / 3:45:27 13:04:51 / 4:03:13 17:08:04 Jonathan Gunderson
3:09:13 3:09:13 / 3:11:46 6:20:59 / 3:15:07 9:36:06 / 3:28:57 13:05:03 / 4:03:59 17:09:02 Jamil Coury
3:07:48 3:07:48 / 3:09:20 6:17:08 / 3:18:58 9:36:06 / 3:28:57 13:05:03 / 4:04:00 17:09:03 Nick Coury
3:06:41 3:06:41 / 3:05:40 6:12:21 / 3:30:40 9:43:01 / 3:30:16 13:13:17 / 4:08:05 17:21:22 Nathan Echols
2:41:58 2:41:58 / 2:59:40 5:41:38 / 3:24:03 9:05:41 / 3:49:06 12:54:47 / 4:35:44 17:30:31 Ryan Loehding
2:51:25 2:51:25 / 3:02:55 5:54:20 / 3:23:40 9:18:00 / 4:01:57 13:19:57 / 4:11:28 17:31:25 Brooks Williams

2:49:10 2:49:10 / 2:57:56 5:47:06 / 2:56:04 8:43:10 / 3:16:09 11:59:19 / 3:45:44 15:45:03 Elizabeth Howard F
2:50:04 2:50:04 / 3:10:22 6:00:26 / 3:11:50 9:12:16 / 3:31:22 12:43:38 / 4:10:36 16:54:14 Jamie Donaldson F
2:50:30 2:50:30 / 3:09:34 6:00:04 / 3:25:57 9:26:01 / 4:01:48 13:27:49 / 5:36:34 19:04:23 Connie Gardner F

In the 50-mile race, only a few runners finished the first 16.7 miler under 2:00, about an 7:11 min pace, or a projected 6 hour finish. Only Lyle Parker ran even or better splits, so the remaining pack spread out and slowed down. Dominic Grossman won in 6:26:05, with Sean Lewis 2nd in 6:48:38, and Ariel Martinez 3rd in 6:53:12. The women's 50 mile race stole most of the attention during the day as Melanie Fryar and Meredith Terranova battled it out from the start. Only minutes apart on loop one, and the same split after loop two, it came down to the final round-about. Melanie sprinted in to set a new women's course record and the win in 6:59:40 with Meredith 2nd in 7:12:42. Rachel Lindner was 3rd in 7:51:12. There were 248 finishers for an 84% finish rate.

50 mile splits
1:58:15 1:58:15 / 2:08:45 4:07:00 / 2:19:05 6:26:05 Dominic Grossman
2:07:22 2:07:22 / 2:16:00 4:23:22 / 2:25:16 6:48:38 Sean Lewis
2:07:45 2:07:45 / 2:18:31 4:26:16 / 2:26:56 6:53:12 Ariel Martinez
1:52:05 1:52:05 / 2:21:07 4:13:12 / 2:43:59 6:57:11 Andrew Bloom
2:11:04 2:11:04 / 2:13:44 4:24:48 / 2:32:52 6:57:40 Kyle Mccoy
2:07:20 2:07:20 / 2:18:58 4:26:18 / 2:32:34 6:58:52 Brad Overturf
2:07:24 2:07:24 / 2:23:23 4:30:47 / 2:55:02 7:25:49 David Brown
2:20:22 2:20:22 / 2:28:43 4:49:05 / 2:42:12 7:31:17 Mark Plucinski
2:40:38 2:40:38 / 2:40:53 5:21:31 / 2:20:43 7:42:14 Lyle Parker
2:27:46 2:27:46 / 2:34:49 5:02:35 / 2:48:22 7:50:57 Charles Corfield

2:09:03 2:09:03 / 2:18:20 4:27:23 / 2:32:17 6:59:40 Melanie Fryar F
2:11:08 2:11:08 / 2:18:32 4:29:40 / 2:43:02 7:12:42 Meredith Terranova F
2:31:10 2:31:10 / 2:33:28 5:04:38 / 2:46:34 7:51:12 Rachel Lindner F

Rocky Raccoon recorded it's largest field ever this year with 640 runners. The limit of 750 was never reached, but I suspect it will next year. There were some concerns that there might be too many people for this course, but I have yet to hear any complaints. I am worried that the 50 mile might outgrow the 100, so I will most likely impose my own limit on the 50 miler next year as well as the park's limit of 750 on the overall participation.

The endurance and stamina of the runners always impresses me, but not nearly as much as it does from the volunteers. There are people behind the scenes who go the extra mile, do that little bit extra every time. If anybody wants a clinic on how an all-star aid station is supposed to run, come on out and study Lynn Ballard's NTTR crew at Dam Road. I am so very proud of all the volunteers at Rocky Raccoon. They continue to make me look like I know what I am doing. To them - I say THANKS!

Dancing on the roots - Olga's Rocky Report

2010-02-09T12:03:00.001-06:00

Sent to you by Josue via Google Reader:

Dancing on the roots

via Run More Talk Less by olga on 2/9/10

I really should have been writing as soon as I am home. The zest goes away rather fast, and I am starring at this screen trying to find the beginning. What did my previous post name mean? You might have heard Rocky is considered to be the "easy" 100 miler. My take is - there is no easy 100M. It might be not mountains, mild weather, full support, and even faster finish time - but it ain't easy. 100 miles is a long way to go...

On Monday Larry and I hit our usual yoga class. We've been at it since New Year, and I was still taking it easy until now, holding back, since I haven't practiced regularly for over a year. Monday I felt great - and did poses fully, to the point of becoming a "demo". It gave me pleasure, to feel my body responding still.

On Wednesday I had my class in massage school. I got lucky to be a "demo" for the instructor for 30 minutes, and then after I worked on a girl for an hour, she worked on me for an hour as well, both she and an instructor focusing on my back (that happened to have a huge tight band along the spine from that yoga twisting) and my glutes and legs in general. I think between the start of the class and the end of it my double-seized "don't touch me" behind relaxed to where they could push in - and I wouldn't wince. It was wonderful...

We had kids that weekend. I mean, Stephen is always here, but Harrison comes every other weekend, so Larry was to take care of them. They all agreed to come and watch me suffer:) After the drive we settled in a room and fell asleep around 11pm - later than I would have wished for, but the hotel was 10 minutes away. I slept ok, but I felt nervous. 7 years, 55 ultras, 13 100's later - and I still get nervous...it just never goes away.

It's a quiet nervous though. I just don't say much. I sit in a chair, wondering what possesses me to do such things. Suddenly, I have no answers. It was nippy cold, may be 35F and kind of wet air. My feet went numb. We only woke up Harrison, leaving Stephen sleeping in a room (Larry to come back and get him after the start), and he, too, was rather quiet. I did chat with a few folks while getting my number and a bib, and while I could muster excitement, and then crashed. I am like that - I go in bursts. Happy-chatty - and then hiding from the world. 10 minutes to the start. Time to take extra clothes off...

We take stride at Joe's "10, 7, 3...go", and I am right next to Dan Brenden. yet again, as at Bandera, I take in this fact as a good sign. Dan is awesome. I want to be like him when I grow up. He cherishes memories of my cute leg's turnover at Sand Diego 100 in 2005. What's not to love about our relationship? I think of him - and his wife, how he will finish, and how he will pick her up 50 yards before crossing the line and carry her across. This is one of the most heartfelt moments you'll ever see at any race. He does it every single time...

We funnel into a single track, and have no fear - while single-track, it is rather on a wide side, and there is enough space to get by if needed. Interestingly, I am behind a large group and the next large group of runners pretty far behind. I basically run alone, with 344 starters in a 100. I kind of like it. Allows me to settle in - I am not wearing my headphones yet, and I am finding my stride, and my breath. It's still dark, and the first 2 miles are all flat as a pancake. I wonder when should I take a walk break, and the small hill comes right under my feet - so I walk. Before we know it - first aid station.

You'd think I'll look into aid stations names and distances, but for some reason I don't bother, yet again. I know they are close. This first one is manned by Team Traverse, and I hear my name shouted numerous times. It feels nice, I feel great, and we roll along. More inclines follows, and I am relieved - I haven't run non-mountain 100 since, well, my first one in April of 2004, at Umstead, and I don't know how to run continuously. I was afraid I'd blow my race - but the hills and inclines are nicely spaced out and dictate the walk breaks for me, what is much better then timed breaks - and I'd never do them by time, I don't like looking at my watch that much. It's becomes lighter, and before we know it - we are at the Dam Road AS, and Lynn Ballard and John Sharp yell out "Watch out for Olga, everybody duck!". I give them hugs and kisses. I feel like home. It's a nice feeling indeed...

We leave, and I chat with a guy I call "Virginia" for a while - until he says his name is Phil, and it's his first 100. A few more folks join conversation. We chat away, as the course gently rolls on this 6 mile loop, with the middle point timed by 2 volunteers (to make sure 100 milers don't take a cut-off trail designed for 50 milers). Another man jumps into talking, we power away together - and he is Larry from PA, a long time follower of my blog. We share laughs, stories and races. he runs every step, what kind of screws my intention for walks as I try not to loose him - because it seems he enjoys the company and waits for me if I take a walking step. But I am still having fun - we run a bit along the lake's shore and all 5 of us who are together holler for the echo. The echo is loud, and it makes us giggly. We turn and see 50 milers who started an hour later, and just in general so many people - tailing 100 milers, front 100 milers on second loop. Crowds of folks, everybody cheering each other loudly.

Back to Dam Road AS, I pick up Phil (VA) again, and tell him to walk, never be afraid of walking early and before he feels the need for it. Respect the distance. Be patient. It will pay off. We run. We walk. We talk. Like Larry (PA) said - who came up with the idea of calling your blog this way? Talk less? What a joke, if you know me! Yeah, I know. Run more is appropriate though, isn't it?

Another AS, and I am lost with miles ran and how many left. We see Liza H., Jamie D. and Connie G. one after another within a minute, and I yell to each of them - Liza and Jamie respond, Connie looks surprised. More front runners coming, more cheering. This course is fun! I am certain we have another AS and the 3 miles after that, so my estimated 4:15 for the loop looks perfectly fine, until I see a road on the side and realize I am coming to an end of the loop #1. Holly cow! When Larry asked me about predictions (so he can nap and then collect kids, feed them breakfast and come back to see me in time), I told him 3:50. His response - you better not. I know, I said, this is the best case scenario I could ever run 20 miles. Well, I make loop 1 in 3:42. Did I screw it up? And how in the world did I run it so fast for me? Larry is not around (no wonder), and I dig into my drop bag. Tomato juice down, gels replaced, windbreaker left behind - Larry jumps in front of me. Baby, sorry, I didn't mean to be fast! I want to linger, but he pushes me out. I already spent there over 5 min. OK, gotta go, I guess...

Loop 2 went same way, besides the fact that my gut was wrenching bad. I should get used to it. I should finally come to conclusion - I can't drink any calories, only water. Am I getting old? When I started, I could do Ensure. Then I couldn't handle it, but was fine with Perpetium. Then it was Clip2. Then HEED. Now - nothing. Nothing at all. How am I supposed to run long distances if all I can do are gels and water, for God's sake??? I am mad, and I am hurting. My lower intestines need relief, which is not in sight quite yet. At Dam Road it happens, and feels a bit better. My friends laugh - true Olga style, real ultrarunner. Sorry, folks. Happens to the best of us.

Back on that 6 mile rolls, I stride and smile - the trail is so soft, it reminds me of PNW. Really, it is not nearly as rooty as we were threatened about! Perfect trails! No roots, just soft dirt and pine needles! As soon as the thought finished - my foot picks a root and I go face plant a few feet down the trail. thank God it's soft! I laugh, I truly do. Respect the trails, don't jinx them! They will bite you, and you should know better than that! I start looking down and see lots of them, roots. Funny how they suddenly popped. Ok, I promise, I will pay attention...

I pick up Naresh at the timing tent (mid-6M loop) and now we chat away again. Share stories. Give advice. Good ol' times. Gotta love these first 40 miles - life is wonderful, and even though the hamstrings and glutes behind to feel tight, there is still enough sparks to be simply happy. At least with Naresh I take my breaks on every incline, and the loop 2 comes to end - in 4:05 (I don't have a timer, I just note the clock arms, so pardon any errors). Much better. And still much faster than I expected. May be Larry was right, and I should shoot for 22 hrs. If my gut permits...

Larry is there, at the turn-around, ready with my drop bag. I get my tomato juice and gel replacement, but no HEED anymore. One more loop with no jacket and no light. that's the agenda. Time to go.

Loop 3 goes about same as loop 2. More people, but we all are getting quieter, less chatty, more focused. The work has begun. We still cheer each other, but not in so many words. I spend a lot of time with my OR friend Steve Peterson, and he claims that now all we have to do is walk the next 2 loops to make sub-24. I am careful with my estimates - easy for him to say, his legs grow from his neck level. "Don't count chicken until the eggs hatched" - we say 'don't say "hop" until you jump over. My stomach still bothersome, but is getting better. My feet, though, are feeling weird. What is wrong? No, it's not blisters - by the way, I had none, as in "zero", despite going through some muddy parts through without avoiding (after 2 days of rain in TX), Drymax socks do their job perfectly. I am wearing Fireblades, and they did a great job at Bandera. It's a different pair, but still...what is wrong? My feet feel bruised under, on the edges. I am bewildered, and hurt. I practice my conversation with Larry at the end of the loop:
- How are you feeling, baby?
- You want a dirty laundry list, or just simply that I am hurt in so many places?

But Larry knows better than asking me this question. I make loop 3 in 4:20 (or so), and I am so focused on this "conversation", I forget about what actually hurts the most! I get in at 6:20pm, and glad I didn't have to pull my headlamp out (which I always carry with me anyway) - it was a small goal. While Larry replaces my gels and feeds me another can of tomato juice, I see Stephen and tell him (somebody has to listen to me whine!) - "I am very hurting, sweetie". He looks at me and says nothing. It's not like he comes to this things often, or knows how to respond. His mom is crazy, and kind of invincible - why would she complain? So I give them kisses and leave, hobbling. Not 10 minutes out I realize what I forgot - to change my shoes!!!!

That was a huge mistake. While I am still unaware of "why", I know things are wrong, and I pray Larry, for some weird reason, comes to Team Traverse AS with my extra shoes. He doesn't. I can't even walk anymore, as I enter the tent in tears. "Please, what size you gals wear?". Weird looks, but finally 3 of them - Paula, Meredith T. (2nd place 50M) and Melanie F. (1st place 50M) admit to have same size. Ladies, please, can I have your insoles? Somehow subconsciously I figure it out - Montrail's HARD insoles don't work with narrow no-support Fireblades. Actually, I never wore those insoles for more than 30 miles (and for 30 miles anything goes - how are we supposed to learn ahead of time what would work for us??), and come to think about it, don't even know how they ended up in these shoes. Me and the insoles...wasn't Hardrock enough of a lesson???

Mel pulls her insoles out, Mer holds me while I, sobbing, exchange. It feels like heaven, but the damage is done. I hobble away, wondering if I can still make sub-24...damn it, damn me, damn shoes! Can I hobble and still make sub-24? I haven't done it in 4.5 years, since SD100 2005, mountain races and my general slowness as the cause. This is my only chance, and it's slipping away...

It's dark now, and getting cold quickly. May be it's because I am not running anymore, my body can't maintain the temperature. I am trying to power walk, putting all the effort into widening the steps and springing into next one. I calculate fuzzily: I can do 5.5 hrs on loop 4 and 6 hrs on loop 5 and be ok. I just need to not back off. I need focus. Full focus.

Turn-around again, 5 hrs on the dot for loop #4, Larry with a drop bag. He did stop at Team Traverse AS, but after I passed - and heard my story. I demand my shoes. I also demand a new battery for my headlamp, because with these roots growing bigger every hour (I swear!) fading flashlight is not an option. He finds batteries from someone and replaces them while I am changing my shoes. OK, one more to go. I wonder if I should ask him to come with me. I know he can't - he's got kids in a tent. I also know I don't want him - I am afraid I'll start whining and crying and waste energy and time. So I silently get up and limp away.

My legs feel great. My stomach feels awesome. My energy is high, I am light and wide awake - if not my feet. Wallowing between pity and anger, putting feet down rather gingerly, I step off - and twist my left ankle. No!!! The pain shoots up, and I close my eyes for a moment. This is not happening, not now, not to me...I hobble on, again, into TT AS, and ask for drugs. They supply me with Vit I. Praying I see Lynn Ballard at Dam Road, I try very hard to not get discouraged. What else can possibly happen to me, on this "easy" 100 miler??

He is there. Thank God! Lynn, duct tape? Yes, oh, man, you are true ultrarunner, carrying it in your bag! I tape it all around my left ankle, and set out on the 6M loop. Not a mile into it - I twist my right ankle. Jesus Christ! Is it ever going to end?? I calculate and re-calculate my times again and again. Push, don't give up. By the time I am back at Dam Road, I have 8 miles and 3 hrs to break 24. Lynn laughs - you should know better than that, twisting your ankles in a race! I swear, hoping nobody will feel offended. Not fair! I am trained, my legs are great, and all I can do is not even power-walk, but hobble! I tape my right ankle, and now not sure where to put the weight as I walk. Left or right? Outside of the foot or inside? Nothing seems to work. However, last AS is reached in the same time as the loop before. these folks have soup poured in cups and cut avocado - I wolf it down, thank them as best providers and tell them I am happy to never see them again - not today anyway.

Last 4.5 miles. I am not sure that's the mileage (it is), but this is what I figured from my times. 4.5 miles and 2 hrs. I can do it. The minute I thought this motto - a Marathon Maniac Claude catches up with me. You can do it! I tell him to go ahead - 23:45 sounds like a great plan for me, and I am ok with it.

Am I, really? Am I ever satisfied with simply be ok? Suddenly the sleep comes over me. It always does at 4am, and since all my latest 100's took me far longer than 24 hrs, I am used to 5 minute naps. Can I afford a nap now? I pass people, even though I simply walk, but I wobble so much, I am scared to fall off one of those wooden bridges sleep-walking. Can I afford NOT to take a nap? I sit down on a log, turn off my lamps and close my eyes. It's cold, and those I passed come by in a mere minute - Are you alright? Yeah, thanks, just needed a shut-eye. Well, here goes my nap. I get up, but even a minute with eyes closed helped. I feel energized. I look at my watch, estimate less that 3 miles left, and set out after another goal. yes, I do. 23 hrs seems doable. I want it. I want it badly enough to start running. I run it all, every step of the way, up, down the roots, flats, bridges, mud, dark and all. It is my last chance, I am aware of it, and I am not giving up. I know my watch is 2 or 3 minutes ahead, but have no clue exactly how much, so I simply run all out, turning last corner and seeing the straight line to the finish. Sprint, full out. Larry's flashlight of a camera, Joe and Joyce, a clock - and it says "22:55". I had done it. I am extremely proud of myself.

Joe gives best hugs. He holds me tightly, and I wonder why I am not crying. I pictured myself bursting into tears, from pain, from uncertainty, from happiness. But I smile and point at my duct-taped ankles. he and Joyce had heard the story by now. And they know me too well to be amused or amazed. They simply believed I would do it, the way I did it. I am thinking I should get mad for a minute - common, guys, aren't you proud of me? Joe handles me my buckle, and then later brings a big slab of rock carved as a state of Texas. I had done The Trilogy - Texas trilogy, 3x100, 262M in a season, Cactus Rose 100M, Bandera 100k, Rocky raccoon 100M. Somewhere along the way at Cactus Rose I decided it would be a good idea of submerging myself into my new place of living. I don't know why. For a slab of rock...totally worth it:)

Larry helps me change into dry warm clothes and un-do my duct tape. I look at my ankles with disbelief. I actually thought I am imagining the pain. I guess I wasn't. They are red and swollen. A pitiful nap in a car for an hour - and we are on our way home. Thank God it's a local race...

I woke up at 3am next morning, in pain, to find my right ankle bone lost in a swollen red mass. My left, though, looks and feels much better. Now, 2 days later, it is obviously there is no serious damage, and I am greatly relieved. I am limping, and can't touch it, but it looks better. I guess I should be grateful for the induced break from running after finishing a 100.

Self-sabotage or self-distraction? this question boggled my mind as I ran through the day and the night. I don't know what to call it. I truly don't know why we do it. It's a test. To me - it is not a physical test. It's a test of will. Resolve. Focus. Determination. Perseverance. It's a prove - I can do anything if I set my mind to it. I can get through any disaster and come on the other side. And because I loose this confidence, I need to prove it to myself again and again...

I'll add pictures once I get home.

p.s. On a different note, my name wasn't drawn to Hardrock lottery, what means Tahoe Rim 100 for me this July. I am going to miss San Juans. But may be it's for the best. I can't afford to spend even a week there this year with my miserly 2 weeks vacation at new job - and still be able to have a vacation with the family. Larry and I are planning a backpacking trip instead. Ideas welcome - we have such a wide selection, we are a little fuzzed out:)

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Liza's Rocky Raccoon 100 Race Report!

2010-02-08T14:06:00.002-06:00

Rocky Raccoon 2010
Cliff notes version:
Loop 1: Felt good
Loop 2: Felt good
Loop 3: Felt good
Loop 4: Didn't feel so good
Loop 5: Felt better

War and Peace version:
Everything seemed to fall together perfectly for Rocky Raccoon. The
rain finally stopped, the trails were amazingly dry (Joe said Joyce
was out there with a hair dryer.), my friends took exceptional care of
me throughout the day, and my two-year-old actually slept in the day
before the race, so I felt pretty well rested. What a difference from
last year when I'd come from my grandmother's funeral to run. I ran
well this year because she was smiling down on me the entire way.
When I started walking the hills later in the race, I tried to keep a
pace that would match her mall-walking pace. I didn't succeed there,
of course; I always had to jog a little to keep up with her in a
mall. She died of pancratic cancer, which kept the day in perspective.
It feels awkward to write more after that, but my grandmother would
have enjoyed some details, so here goes:
Another big difference from last year's race was that I wasn't
stopping to nurse my son every 20 miles. And, while that made for a
quicker turn-around at the aid stations, I did miss seeing the shocked
looks on the faces of the people around Dogwood when I came in yelling
"Hand me the baby!!!"
I also didn't take a nap on the fourth loop this year. (Best nap I
ever took.)
And, of course, Amanda McIntosh is my coach and friend now. As
everyone knows, she's amazing in both these roles.
I had a great time commiserating with a runner from Kansas during the
race about having to do a bunch of mind-numbing treadmill training
prior to Rocky because of bad weather. Watching so many "Law and
Order" reruns during my workouts had me expecting to discover a dead
body every time I ducked behind a tree to go to the bathroom. (Can't
you just see the beginning of that episode?)
The funniest thing I saw on the run was a fast male runner come out of
the aid station with a full role of toilet paper in his hand. He
yelled, "Always be prepared!" before disappearing down the trail. I
was very happy that I didn't feel like I needed to be quite that
prepared just then.
As for the running itself, I mostly just felt good. My glut bothered
me early on, but some ibuprofen took care of it. Amanda and I had
planned that I'd run at a comfortable pace and that pace just turned
out to be a lot faster than I thought it would be. I figured if the
"wheels came off" later in the race, it'd be a lesson learned. I
think I struggled during Loop 4 because I got behind on my nutrition a
bit. I can't thank Meredith Terranova enough for helping me with my
race nutrition --and for her friendship. I was suprised the last loop
was so much slower than Loop 4 because I felt so much better. The
darkness really slowed me down. The roots at Rocky multiply and get
bigger during the night. There was more mud in the dark too.
The most exciting part of the race was getting to run along with Jamie
Donaldson and Connie Gardner. I think I might have had the look of a
crazed fan when I introduced myself to Jamie. (No, I didn't carry a
Sharpie along and ask her to sign anything, but I certainly thought
about it.) So cool to be around such a strong person. (I come by my
crazed-fan look honestly.) Some women at Dogwood asked me after the
second loop if I was Jamie, which is when it hit home that I was
running a good race.
I really felt like part of the Texas running community this race and
it was wonderful. Olga, seeing you each loop and hollering hi was
awesome. Joe and Joyce, thank you so much for putting on such a fine
race and for your many kindnesses to me. Aid station folks, you are
all beyond compare. Thank you.
Pacers, Kelli, Kelley, and Brian, I can't think of the words to let
you know how much your help and support meant to me. I had three
goals for this race. 1. Don't take a nap. 2. Eat fewer Jelly
Bellies than last year (1 pound) and 3. Be kind to my crew at all
times. Now, technically, I did leave Kelli by herself in the middle
of the Dam Road loop after she'd sprained her ankle, but she MADE me.
I swear!
Chris Russell crewed for me and drove me back and forth from San
Antonio to the race. All I will say is that I hope anyone reading
this has been blessed with such a fine friend and good crew person in
their life. Thank you Lara, Chelsea and Dakota for lending him out
for the weekend. Well, I will also say that Chris told me that I
would be able to spot him at the aid stations because he would be
wearing a bright yellow shirt. Those of you who know Chris will be
chuckling.
And, finally, I wouldn't be writing this unless I had the husband I do.
Dang! What a weekend! Time to buy a lottery ticket.
Onto Western States!

Larry King Race Report: Hundred in the 'Hood

2009-10-01T10:31:00.001-05:00

Out of all the places in the lower 48 that don't have an official 100-miler, it is perplexing Oregon is among the few, considering the plethora of talented Oregonian ultra runners. But, now, that has changed with "Hundred in the 'Hood". Over the past year, I've had the opportunity to run the trails in the Columbia River Gorge, Smith Rock, and many local trails in the Portland area. And, that, barely scratches the surface of what is available in the state. I was excited, to say the least, at the opportunity to run in a 100-miler in Oregon on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). The total mileage for the race was close to 103 miles, and 99.9% was on single-track, mostly the PCT.

While there is more challenging terrain in Oregon, the course was amazingly beautiful and still a challenge. The occasional views of Mt. Hood at the North end of the course and Mt. Jefferson to the South did not disappoint. In short, the north-south course was book-ended by these two peaks. And, the farther south we ran on the course, the more challenging the terrain. The course topped out around 5,800 feet a mile, or two, before the Breitenbush Lake Aid Station (Mile 65), which was, also, the turnaround point on the course.

The race was co-RD'd by Olga Varlamova and Mike Burke whom are both very experienced ultra runners. And, they did a fantastic job on this inaugural event. The aid stations were top notch and the volunteers were very helpful and attentive to our needs. I'm a fairly low maintenance runner, overall. Just provide me some water at aid stations and a few spots along the course for drop bags and I'm happy. And, if there happens to be ice to put in my bottles, it doesn't get much better.

Olga drove the official U-Haul truck from Portland to the race sight on Thursday afternoon, while I did my best to keep her entertained on the long drive. Beforehand, we loaded up the remainder of items in the truck with Mike after I flew into Portland that morning. In the late afternoon, we arrived at the historic Clackamass Lake Ranger Station cabin located directly across the road from the start/finish. The rustic 1933 cabin was perfect and after an early evening run with Olga and Mike, we cooked and ate dinner by the light of a few lanterns and the fireplace stove. The next morning was shockingly cold for me with frost covering the nearby meadow. The majority of the day was spent unloading the truck, stuffing packets, and greeting the runners. I began getting nervous about the race when I went back to the cabin to finalize my drop bags. The physical action of placing my drop bags in the designated area finally made the imminence of the race real. Later, on Friday evening, I managed to make a home cooked dinner for Olga and Mike, who had worked non-stop all day. It was the least I could do.

Race morning came early and I managed to make it to the start area just a few minutes before the pre-race briefing. With a kiss from Olga just a minute before the start, I headed off down the road into the dark at 5am and onto the PCT with 115+ runners.

My plan for the race was fairly simple. Run as best I could by how I felt. Also, the run would be with no pacer and no crew, which I was very comfortable with doing. I purposefully did not wear my heart rate monitor. I didn't want to feel obligated to run the race that way and didn't want to use mental energy constantly looking at my watch. A few weeks leading up to the race, I began running without the monitor and found it very liberating. It has its place in my training, but this wasn't the time. I still had the monkey on my back, although, a light one, since my DNF at Headlands over a year ago. Since I had run only one hundred before that in 2008, I wondered if I would be able to have another good run this time around. I knew my training mileage was very low with my peak week at 63 miles and 37 of those came during a weekend 60k race. I ran more miles in a week while building up to the marathon. This was the big unknown…

As soon as we entered the trail, I, immediately, noticed the trail dust floating in the beam of my headlamp. It was apparent I would be sucking in a lot of dust during the race, which is something I haven't experienced for that length of time. I reached the first aid station just under my split and kept chipping away time, based on my pace chart. After the sun rose and just two hours into the run, my hand was stung by a bee or wasp. I'm not certain which it was, but it immediately began throbbing and swelling. I was temporarily overcome with some concern, based on a runner who had died a week earlier after being stung immediately after running a marathon on the same trails. I reached the Frog Lake turnaround in good shape and ended up running a huge negative split compared to the first 14 miles. The one thing about these trails are many of the climbs are a slight uphill grade (3 to 4%). This makes the course very runnable during the early miles. But, I realized that could come back to haunt me later during a longer race such as this. Regardless, I ran uphill when I could and walked when I couldn't run up the hill. The result was reaching the 28 mile mark (Horsecamp Aid Station) over 30 minutes sooner than predicted in a time of 4 hours 38 minutes. Olga reminded me the pace chart was aggressive and to take it easy. While I heeded her words, I kept running on how I felt.

I purposefully walked for the first 10 minutes out of the aid station to let the liquids and a few of the foods I had eaten have a chance to settle. Afterwards, I continued on with the running. It wasn't too long afterwards where I came to the intersection of the Miller Trail. Based on the run I did on Thursday evening with Olga and Mike, I knew I would cross this intersection again around mile 102 and take the Miller Trail to the finish line. I was really looking forward to getting to some climbs to give my legs a chance rest and so I could get in a little more walking. I got some of that wish going up to Red Wolf Pass, but a better dose a few miles before Warm Springs Aid Station and then on to Pinheads. I kept taking my gels every 30 minutes and drinking as much as possible. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and the occasional peeks at Mt. Hood made the trails even more enjoyable. I was pleased my power walking uphill had improved. It was the first time in a race where I actually dreamed about the ups and couldn't wait until the next one came around the next bend in the trail.

For those that haven't been to the Pacific Northwest, let me just say you are missing out. This is a Paradise with a capital "P". I can't imagine what the members of the Lewis and Clark Expedition thought when they stumbled upon this land. It had to be similar to what my dear Olga experienced with tears streaming down her face as she ran along the PCT at a break neck pace the Thursday evening before the race. The spirit of the forest provided all the energy she needed to run free and fast. The old growth Douglas Fir are so tall, they seem to touch the sky. It makes one dizzy just gazing up at the tops of the trees as one runs along the trail. You could have 4 or 5 people stand around the base of a tree and they still wouldn't be able to touch hands. Simply amazing for those of us not accustomed to such gems in the forest.

I was eager to make it to the Olallie Meadows Campground (mile 55) where my drop bag was located. I intended on changing shoes at this point, but my Fireblades were working flawlessly up to this point and I didn't want to take more time that I already had refueling at the aid station. This aid station is located about 3/8's of a mile off the PCT along a trail spur. It was the busiest aid station during the race. After leaving and continuing Southward, I knew I had some climbing for the next 10 miles to Breitenbush Lake and I was looking forward to it with a smile. The trail from Olallie Lake to Breitenbush Lake was, by far, the most technical and rough trail in the race. This 6.5 mile stretch was very rocky and reminded me of Zane Grey, which is exactly what I like. It was nice to get to run on this section, since it was unique in comparison to the rest of the trail. It was along this stretch where I began seeing the leader and front runners making their way back North. There were about 6 or 7 runners within 10 minutes of the leader and that was great to see. I made it into Breitenbush Lake Aid Station (mile 65) in 13 hours and realized I was still under my pace chart by about 10 minutes. It was at this point where I thought, "only 37 more miles to go!", as I smiled. What a sick mind! This aid station is in close proximity to Mt. Jefferson and the low-angled evening sunlight covered everything in a beautiful golden hue. This place is truly special and I was happy to experience it firsthand.

I made my way out of the aid station with a determined smile and began the home stretch back toward the finish. I passed a few runners along the way and scared some on the technical downhills as I closed in on them quickly. This is the kind of trail I live for during a run. While some made their way down gingerly, I made my way down and through the rocks as quickly as my legs would let me. I made it back to my drop bag at Olallie Meadows Campground, several minutes behind my pace chart. I had planned on changing my shoes at this point, again, but I didn't want to waste more time. I knew I would pay for it later, since my shoes were full of dust, even with wearing gaiters. But, I had begun watching the clock and time was ticking. One thing I want to mention is the aid stations were top notch. They were managed by seasoned ultra runners who were very attentive to our needs. It would have been impossible to guess this was the first year for this 100. I made my way back onto the trail and headed towards home. I knew that Olga would be waiting for me at the finish and with a scant 27 miles left to go, and all I wanted was to give her a hug and kiss.

I was still several minutes above my predicted pace chart, but I just kept pushing as much as possible. By the time I made it to Lemiti Creek, I was 25 minutes off of pace and this is where I began my rally. I managed to run 37 minutes under my pace chart over the next 10 miles, somehow, managing to run sub-10 minute miles during that time. After reaching Warm Springs Meadows Aid Station, the wheels slowly came off after running to the base of the climb for Red Wolf Pass. This climb seemed to go on forever! I was never so happy to see a glow stick when I reached the eventual top of the climb, because I knew I only had 6, or so, miles left to the finish. My biggest downfall leaving Warm Springs was my lack of hydration and nutrition. I was, basically, up to 40 gels consumed and just tired of drinking water or even drink mix. Regardless, I knew I would, eventually, finish. And, finish I did. I didn't meet my time goal, but I had a fun time trying. I crossed the finish line in the light of a campfire and gave Olga a hug and a kiss. While everyone was dressed for the cold, I was wearing a cut up shirt made into a tank top and my Moeben sleeves. I wasn't cold in the least, even though Olga was concerned I should be. I guess my efforts to keep running and moving near the end kept me warm.

I didn't experience any really bad patches during the race, other than some very sore feet near the end. My feet aren't conditioned enough to wear Fireblades for 103 miles, or probably in any shoes for that matter. There was a point around mile 45 where I was beating myself up and telling myself that I am definitely not a 100 mile runner. I'd rather run the shorter distances. Eventually, those thoughts would go away. The greatest satisfaction was staying with it and finishing what I started. It's probably one of the biggest lessons for me to take into my non-running life. A lot goes through the mind during 100 miles. And, while it would have been nice to have a crew and pacer, I was happy making it through on my own and in the quietness of my own thoughts. I can't wait to do it again…

http://www.pctultra.com/100/09/2009Results.pdf

-Larry King

Team Traverse Captn Karls All Nighter and Timber Knoll Race Reports

2009-08-23T12:09:00.001-05:00

by Joe Prusaitis

Capt'n Karl's All Nighter
Mule Shoe Recreation Area
1 Aug 2009

On yet another day that exceeded 100 degrees for more than a months
worth of 100 degree days, what made this one even more unbearable was
that it had rained all night and quit just before the race start, so
that the humidity almost matched the temperature... almost. Sweat was
pooling on everybody's body while they stood waiting for the start.
Where this a baseball game, they would have called the game for bad
weather... It was that bad.

The 30km runners would start first, running 3 laps of 10km each. At
least, that's what they thought. There was error in the course, so
they actually would run three 7.3 mile loops for 22 miles. Jamie
Cleveland, tuning for Leadville, ran away with the race, coming in at
3:05:05, while Eric Herzog was 2nd in 3:08:10, and Frank Livaudais
was 3rd in 3:28:20. Cheryl Tulkoff won the women's 30km in 3:49:22,
with Grey Rogers coming in 2nd in 4:19:55, and Janice Cahalane 3rd in
4:36:47.

the 10km started 30 minutes later, running the same 7.3 mile course.
Gerald Fincken won top honors in the 10km with a 56:06, followed by
Lou Riesch in 58:08, and Eric Aschenbach 59:16. The women's 10km was
won by Laura Narvaiz in 1:07:36, followed quickly by Gayle Williams
in 1:09:26, and Susan Farago in 1:11:51.

The 60km started much later in the day, after all the 30km and 10km
runners had left, an hour before dark at 7am. The temps dropped later
in the day and more again after dark, but the humidity remained high,
nudged along by a bit more rain. The rain certainly helped the
runners, but after it stopped, the humidity returned with a
vengeance, plus some mud. Again, this was the same course as the 30km
and 10km, so the 60km ended up being 44 miles. The first three loops
were led by Stephen Baumgartner and Michael Adams, but Stephen lost
his stomach on loop 4. Michael took the reins and stayed well out
front for the duration, winning in 7:28:38. Woody Stallings ran well
for 2nd male in 8:26:45. Ryan Beard also had an excellent run for 3rd
in 8:30:12. The women's race was much more dynamic and fun to watch
as Amanda McIntosh and Patricia McAndrew battled it out at the end.
Amanda ran well and had similar splits to what the male leaders ran
with splits that slowly increased due the heat, humidity, and miles,
but Patricia ran a phenomenal race by remaining more constant than
most and then following up with an awesome final lap to move into
first at the last to take the women's title with a time of 8:12:13
and also passing all the guys too, except the overall winner to
finish 2nd overall. Amanda ran an excellent race also, finishing 3rd
overall and 2nd female in 8:22:26. Mary Ntefidou took 3rd place in
11:15:51.

Capt'n Karl's Timber Knoll
Pedernales SP
15 Aug 2009

The Texas heat continues to pound on us, yet we continue to run, and
we continue to race. It was just another typical 100 degree burner,
just like all the other ones, but this format took us to Pedernales
SP for another set of 10km, 30km, and 60km trails races. The only
real difference at this race was no rain.

The 30km runners would start first, running an out-n-back of 1.6
miles so that the next two laps of 8.5 miles each would add up to
18.6 miles. Eric Herzog went out fast and held strong to win in
2:23:02. John Reynolds was 2nd male in 2:59, and Hugo Walker was 3rd
in 3:02:35. Christine Tokarz went out fast but was tracked closely by
Amanda McIntosh, who went by her on the final loop to take the
women's win in 2:43:46, and also finishing 2nd overall. Christine
held on as 2nd woman in 2:55:51 and also 3rd overall. Cheryl Tulkoff
finished 3rd woman in 3:05:42 and also 6th overall. The women might
be serving notice to the men today, taking 6 of the top 10 spots in
this race.

The 10km started 30 minutes later, running a different route than the
30km. We would walk them out 0.47mi so that they could run an even
10km loop from the correct spot. Lou Riesch won the 10km in 45:32,
with Jason Voges 2nd in 54:45, and Jason McGhee 3rd in 56:55. The
women's 10km was won by Staci Holstine in 59:57, followed by Kristy
Arnim 1:07:24, and Jane Bui in 1:10:39.

The 60km started much later, after the 30km and 10km was done and
gone. They would use the same 8.5mi loop that the 30km used earlier,
so that meant 4 loops plus 3.2 miles of out-n-back to net the
required 37.2 miles. This was a fun race to watch, with Ryan Beard
and Elizabeth Howard running with each other the entire race, coming
in after each loop together and leaving together. I only wondered who
would round the final turn in front. It only took 6:11 to see this
unfold, as Ryan rounded the final turn in full stride while looking
back over his shoulder for Liza who was right behind him. Ryan did
win the race in 6:11:29, while Liza was first woman and 2nd overall
just 7 seconds back in 6:11:36. It was an exciting race from start to
finish, best told by their split time checks...
1 Ryan Beard 1:46:21 1:26:37 1:31:31 1:27:00 6:11:29
2 Elizabeth Howard 1:46:21 1:26:05 1:32:09 1:27:01 6:11:36
Mind that their first split is 8.5mi plus the 3.2 mile out-n-back,
while all the others at exactly 8.5 miles. Woody Stallings came in
2nd male in 6:44:25, with Larry King in 3rd at 7:04:46. The 2nd and
3rd place women were Blair Gilbert in 8:33:03, and Rochelle Frazier
in 8:36:36

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Joe Prusaitis 2009 Hardrock 100 Report

2009-07-28T15:16:00.000-05:00

Hardrock 100

July 10, 2009

Silverton CO

Joe Prusaitis

http://www.tejastrails.com/

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Fitness and training are essential for the completion of this race. Desire and knowledge are equally as important. You can be strong as a horse and yet, not know where to go or how to proceed. You could know everything there is to know, but not have the strength to run. They are both necessary, but which is more important? I am on my way to test the balance of this question. I know the course well and I know what it takes, but did not do the training. Am I withdrawing from an empty account, expecting a large return for my small investment. Is my usually strong will and course knowledge enough? Is my heart in this run? For months before the race, I ran my mind & body down, from coaching, directing, and the passing of my mother. Out of sync, I wonder what the hell I am doing. Am I chasing ghosts by abusing myself in this paradise. I walk out of town in a contemplative mood. Wondering how much my strength of will can do.

The first of many climbs begins quickly, into the Little Giant Basin. Slowly, we march up the dirt road, each in our separate packs of two and three. The long jeep road turns into an old miners trail, a single track of solid rock, then loose rock, past old metal posts that are all twisted about by years of mother nature's desire to remove them. Onto the summit, the catwalk, and then the cliff on the other side. It seems the perfect place for a short break, some food, and an opportunity to tighten down the shoelaces. Its a mean descent from here and I need to take every opportunity to protect my feet. Break done and laces tight, its time to roll. Its the same drill as usual for me, a simple bombing mission, release the breaks and then try to stay on the trail. I roll over the edge and start down, picking up speed, and still accelerating, sliding around the switchbacks, and pinging off the rocks. A few people get out of the way, the others I go around. I hear my name, but my eyes are scanning ahead, speed-reading the rocks, collecting data, a chess game 3 moves ahead in 3 seconds. I can't see anything but the rocks, the moves, the dance. A combination of confidence, balance, and devil-may-care. A blur 'til I reach the bottom, where the waterfall becomes a delta of creeks. I can dance across the creeks dry if I wish, but why bother when the 20 foot wide creek into Cunningham is just ahead. I slow down for the approach and then walk through the creek into Cunningham and Joyce.

Its only the 2nd climb and already I'm slow as snot, so I have way too much time to think about how poorly this is going. These self reflecting depravations are supposed to make me a better person: more understanding, more aware, more open-minded, in tune with my surroundings, more compassionate, willing to accept people and things that are different. The process, I suppose, has to do with knocking me out of what is my normal routine, changing my perspective, changing the chemistry of my mind. I certainly learn to crave the simply things like air, water, and sleep, followed soon after by healthy feet and contented stomach. Remove any one of these under-appreciated luxuries and I crave it desperately, remove them all and learn humility. A well run race is a well run body. It is all about balance: everything adjusted and tuned so that nothing changes. Feet, stomach, and mind. Fuel, salt, and energy. One mistake and you adopt that demon. A few more and the banshees pile on and tear you apart. Most people give in and get out. Some like the challenge and brace it head on. Bring it on, they say! You can tear me down, but you cant make me quit.

The track up is an old sheep trail, clinging to the edge of the wall, hanging directly over the aid station I just left, 500 feet down. Lynn and Joyce can still see me, but they can't see the sweat dripping off of my face. Every uphill is granny gear, and if I had a lower sprocket, I'd be in it. The trail has a few more options than it used to, but they all go to the same place further up. Every easy choice just makes the next choice more difficult. Along the face for awhile and then it bends right and more directly strait up. Switchbacks in the tundra lead to the first rock ledge, and then the second one. The open meadow beyond allows a bit of rest until the next set of rolling hills. The flags lead strait up through the tundra, an air blowing, quad cramping experience. Head down, hands on knees, slightly bent, bring one foot up and plant it, then shift the weight of the body up, then the other leg, and repeat.

Green Mountain gives herself up way too slowly. I stop on top for a moment, then roll off the other side. Stoney Pass is a high mountain jeep road that divides Green and Canby Mountains before taking us down to Maggie Gulch. It is a lonely spot, windy, and rocky. Mike Price watches from his jeep as I approach. He offers encouragement as I come and again as I go. The 3rd mountain is a short steep climb, then traverse across Canby's west face to ride a series of ridges. Each steep climb, regardless how short leaves me sucking air. Even after gaining the trail that traverses across her flank, it remains a climb, and keeps me going at a slogging crawl. It is all beautiful, but I have to open my eyes and allow it in to be able to appreciate it. For much of the early going, I have been closed, but something allows me to see now for the first time in awhile. The wild mountain flowers are all staring at me it seems, watching my struggle, a fading wraith drifting uphill with the snails and the earthworms. John Cappis tried to teach me their names and although some of this took, and the memory remains, none of their names come to mind. I have spent a few days with John out here and recall fondly how much he loved all of this: these mountains, the wildlife, and especially the flowers. He once asked me what I thought was the appropriate music for a summit we had taken together, and I know it was some classical piece, but the exact name hides from me among the nameless flowers. John brings me some peace, but no energy to ease the struggle.

I ride a ridge that looks off either side from 13000-ft, and then drifts down off the other side into Maggie Gulch. A skinny trace of trail that must occasionally just fall off and disappear heads left at first, then drops down through the tundra and boulders to cross a grass field to a point where somebody has left an old box-spring bed. An odd landmark, but landmark it is and has been for years. This is where we head strait down to the aid station. I can see it directly below and head strait for it. Tight switchbacks in the tundra at first, then in the dirt, and finally the scrub just before the creek.

If I am not last now, then I am surely near to it. Only 15 miles in and already well behind my worst expectations. I am greeted by Josh & Alex Gordon as I enter Maggie. These two kids from Albuquerque treat me with great respect and kindness, but even I can see the concern in their eyes. I am way behind the curve. They know it and I know it, but it is still too soon to die, regardless how I look. Parting with high fives and best wishes, I try to take a bit of their energy with me. They are certain to have an abundance to spare.

The 4th climb to the saddle separating Maggie from Pole Creek is an easy rise, especially when compared to all the others, yet it too takes me a long time. My mind spirits are strong today, while the physical spirits remain asleep. They are voyeurs only, watching what happens to my body without participation. The high swampy meadow soaks my feet near summit, but no matter, as this entire section is swampy. My feet will stay wet until I reach Sherman. Across the Continental Divide and into the West Fork of Pole Creek, I am alone. I can see a long way, but nothing that moves. Most of the snow has melted, but patches remain scattered about, draining into small streams and swamps, all of it cold. The sun is up, reminding me of my one wish I asked just for before starting today. Rain! I asked for rain by any means, with or without storms, lightning or not. I just wanted rain and lots of it. This wide valley meadow rides high, near 12000-ft, and acts like a convection oven, circulating the air around us while the UV rays are so much more intense. No tree cover, thus no shade. Nothing but hip high shin scrapers, swamp, and an occasional drainage stream, surrounded by mud. These are not little ol' mud holes, but large bogs made for wallowing in. You might could find a route that avoids the worst of it, but that is not how it is marked. This route leans toward the masochistic, more nasty than nice. The trail snakes across the valley, then rides the east side traverse. In and out of each ripple of land, it rises slightly all the way down into Pole Creek aid station.

When it starts to rain... it is a glorious rain, a cowboy rain. Time to giddy-up. I mount up and start running for the first time in awhile. It feels so good, the rain, the run, everything. Across the Middle Fork and up the East Fork, then in and out of the creeks, one after another. Mark Heaphy comes by, always good for a chat, and slows to talk for a bit. He has been with Margaret until just recently, back at Pole Creek aid. She deals with stomach demons early on, and hangs onto the edge of the race until late, before unleashing a furious finish. She seems to have the power and strength to come on strong at the very end. Mark, on the other hand, makes it all seem so smooth and easy, as he quickly walks away from me, disappearing into a fold of land well ahead and gone. The rain provides the remedy for my misery. For the first time today, I catch somebody. Jean-Jacque and I continue to the lake at the top of the world while we discuss his hopes and desires. He has recently aged 70 and looks to be in grande shape. I enjoy his company as we continue to move well under the shadow of rain clouds and the life giving rain. We run with rain jackets over the high meadows that drift slightly down for mile after mile. The spongy marsh and slippery tundra turn to rock and tree as we move below treeline. Into the trees of Cataract Gulch, we encounter the rock fields and creek crossings. Steeper down, the twisted metal remains of a mine and then the grand waterfall. We are just above it and Jean-Jacque wades quickly thru while I balance across a thin fall-down. An audience of one watches and applauds. I offer a bow and thanks, not knowing who or why he sits and watches. The trail is soft with pine needles and quiet now, but for the pounding boom from a cascading waterfall that intertwines with our trail, sometimes hidden by sound or sight, and sometimes not. It plays peekaboo with us for miles as we drop into the lush valley, silent for minutes, and then booming for moments. I surely love the sound of a waterfall and there is nothing more lovely than the sight. I have taken pictures of many that never seem to capture the magic that comes from the combination of both, her visual beauty and her magical music. All these things work to speed me down the trail until I am again alone, sprinting down the pine needle trail for a good long ways until I find the bridge at the bottom leading into the Sherman aid station.

This is the sweetest of aid stations, far from home, right up next to the soothing sound of a fast moving creek, under the shade of tall trees and shaded tents. It is certainly an oasis, filled with kind servants who wait on us all hand and foot. My bag is already laid out on a table where I am escorted. Food and cold drink are brought on request. I have died and gone to heaven. Moogy is there, laid out on a cot, in a bag, oxygen pumped into his face. He is done and sad, but in good hands. Mike Price & John Ferguson help me to make ready for the next section, which will turn to night & cold before I am done. Lights, food, and such, all loaded into my pack, after removing what I have used up to here. It takes some amount of time to reload, refuel, and refit, but there is little waste before I am again walking down the road and out.

After the bridge, I turn into the old ghost town of Sherman, through the remains and hulks of old buildings. A great flood washed through here many years ago, killing the town and drowning it all. My good friend Rick Gastelum suffered this same fate back in Austin, while I ran this same race just a few years ago. He drowned in a great wall of water from a flash flood, unexpected, and sudden. Rick was a good man, better than most, and we shared a lot of trail together. This race always seems to make me think of him at some point, as he left us while I ran this race. His memory now exists as part of it for me. I welcome his spirit which makes me both happy and sad. I seem so at odds with my emotions during this adventure, smiling and crying at the same time, flipping back and forth randomly, and comfortable with both. I climb the shortcut through the trees of Sherman, making good time with the aid of the recent calorie spike. Above the town and back on the road again, I march uphill rapidly, sometimes walking and sometimes running. The rain comes and goes, off and on, for an hour. I do love the rain: a power element for me. I surge every time she touches me. I catch Andrew on the overhanging jeep road and together we march into Burrows Park, where we each select a separate bathroom.

I stop at the bridge to refill my water bottle before starting my long climb up to Handies via Grizzly Gulch. This is one of the classic climbs on this route, from way down low to the top of this world at 14000-ft, and all of it a constant up. No detours, no rolling ups and downs, no false summits, just one big nasty gnarly climb. With my renewed energy and spirit, I try to go easy and comfortable for as long as possible, and I don't feel the switch from trying to back off to trying to maintain. Well below the summit, even before treeline, It becomes an enormous struggle just to keep moving. Andrew has caught back up and together we continue, but oh so slowly. Altitude's demons climb on my shoulders and pounds upon my head. What a beautiful misery, with Handies always looking down and watching, wondering, how long will it take this fool. Easier to sit down and admire from below without presumption of climbing up onto her head. Still the death march continues, measured in hours, as the minute hand gains speed, sprinting as fast as an elk over a high mountain pass. No matter the task, given enough time, it eventually does get done... but the cost is time... in large buckets. One high step to another, one ledge to the next, one rock after another, and we lose the light before it is done. The final pitch strait up on loose rock, a track of scree, between jagged boulders. Careful to go up without pulling anything down, we take the top at 9-pm. From the summit, we see the moon peeking over a field of mountain peaks, lovely and lonely. It is cold and windy, so we hurry across the ridge, a quick picture, and then down into the waiting darkness of the American Basin. Steep at first, with sliding earth, but then better traction to gain some speed and go quicker. I lead off the summit and down to the base of the big mountain, across the riot of rocks, and past the lake. After another short rocky descent, I begin to falter, needing help. The trail is no longer easy to find and I struggle to guess between a dozen options after every flag. Andrew takes lead and now I blindly follow him. The route switches about at random, up, down, left, right, on a trail, then off, tundra, or rock, and maybe we just keep missing the proper switchbacks, and instead head direct from flag to flag. I know not what we do, but do pretend to go from one flag to the next. Through creeks, swamps, rock flows, and snow, but eventually the trail quits undulating about and works directly towards the next high saddle. Once again, my toes are pointing at my nose, but it is too dark to see how steep the grade is, or anything more than a bit tundra and a lot of loose rock. Another slow grind, just like all the others. The darkness hides my snails progress, but it feels just the same. The top comes to me in time. My patience is learning a whole new level today. I have just reached Grand Master.

Knowing this next section, I take the lead going over the saddle to begin the descent. we start with a short steep section on loose rock, through a patch of snow, and then accelerate just a bit. This track I know well, and it comes at me quickly as we sweep down towards comfort and care in the darkness. Still, even the descent does take time, but with no landmarks to see, just about everything is blind but for a single well lit world just ahead of me, leading me over each rock and tussock, to the final switchback dropping into Grouse.

A late night bed, if any, waits for Joyce. She may trump my patience with her own, as she waits for hours for me to arrive. Once I am done here, she will most likely drive to Ouray and try to find some sleep. I check in and check out without entering the station. Joyce's mobile aid station eliminates my need for it. I sit down and close my eyes while she cares for me. I hear her soft words and feel her caring hands. Fresh food, cold drinks, and warm clothes, a short time off my feet, and then I walk out with Lynn Ballard, my friend and pacer.

The Alpine Loop is a jeep road loop that wanders around these mountains of which we use only a small part for this race. This part of the road leads up to Oh Point! and beyond. There are a few roads leading off to different exotic places, and my vagabond feet seem quite happy to explore anyplace I have never been before. I seem to have some trouble finding the correct route on this road, so I need some help staying on the right track. If he didn't already know, I tell him about my misadventure along here. Lynn promises no detours this time. We plan to avoid Animas Forks, Cinnamon Pass, Denver Hill, Mineral Point, the shortcut to Ouray, and finally Engineer Pass. The moon is up now and we quickly discover or own moon-shadows, so we continue without flashlights for a long way, deferring instead to the moonlight. We make good time, while drifting into philosophical discussion about the American Indian, trying to find a comparison between what we do here and what they did for a similar enlightenment. Intelligent conversation? I don't know, but it keeps our minds active and engaged. We pass the night away while we pass the time on this long road up to Oh Point! We find a couple standing in the darkness facing each other, when we approach, one asks us to help her talk her friend out of quitting the race. He has decided he is done. We ask him to join us, but he kindly refuses. He has decided. It is done. So, we continue and wonder what or why? How easy is it to just decide to quit? I wonder if I could do it? I've done it before, but don't think I have that ability this time around. This discussion drifts into something else, and on through a whole portfolio of odd topics, until suddenly I am not sure we are going the right way. After a few wrong turns on this road, I am nervous about the possibility of doing the same again. I see light behind us, and I can't tell if they are coming the same way or dropping down. Lynn notices my nervousness and assures me we are fine, but that is what I was told two years ago when we were not fine. We keep going but I don't feel so good about it anymore. I continue to look back, over and over again. Our conversation dies with my nervous tic. Over and over, I look, and then I wonder if I am starting to make Lynn nervous as well. I am hyper-sensitive in a negative sort of way, and it worries on me badly. Lynn continues to insist, and even proclaims that Oh Point! is just ahead but I don't buy it for a minute... until I finally see the flags at the turn. And then it all fades away, the nervous twitch, leaving me exhausted. We sit down for a snack on the cusp of the drop, tighten our shoelaces, then drop into Beer Creek drainage. It's steep tundra, but the tufts of grass keep us from sliding out of control. I slide onto my butt a time or two, but, standing strait up, my butt is never far from the ground anyway. The moonlight cannot follow below the edge of the mountain, leaving us in a deeper darkness once again. We find a track of sorts, along the route of markers, bent grass, no more. It becomes a very skinny dirt track, too narrow to run within, but I try. One foot in, one out, then both out, but the grass next to it is rough and uneven, causing me to trip and stumble. No matter how I attempt to navigate this simple problem of a trail, it is awkward at best. The downhill run is broken and beaten into into stumble steps, trips, and scrambles. Lynn keeps pulling ahead as I bumble about, until he disappears over a hump. I wonder for just a moment why he went ahead, until I to cross over and find the Engineer aid station. I usually don't stop here but nothing is normal this go round, so I stop to get some broth. A minute maybe is spent before I spin out to continue down. The trail is easier to follow from here, through a few creeks, but always downhill. The cliffs are what really excite me through here. I love the feel of it, the excitement of the sheer drops. I really like to buckle down and run this section. Lynn follows as I mount a mini-charge, no more. Round the ledges, above the creek, and down the breaking glass trail. I revel in the sound of it all, an audio experience: Mozart on speed, a massage of the mind. Its a grand site when the lights of Ouray come into view. I used to think I was close when I saw the lights. But the next section between the highway and the river is a nutcracker of an odd sort. After we cross over the highway tunnel and drop into it. The deception is that you are heading towards Ouray, but... it is anything but direct. The skinny little trail is mostly short steep descents and climbs, littered with rocks and fall-downs. Down to the Uncompagre and then up to the highway, back down and back up, and around and around 'til you cross over Camp Bird Rd. Past the ice park, over a bridge, down to the edge of town proper and then onto the streets of Ouray. The sun rises as I enter town, but Ouray is still asleep. A couple of gunslingers saunter directly down the middle of 2nd St, checking for hombre's, and looking for a fresh horse or two. Past the dump, and into the aid station. It's been 24 hours and I've only covered 58 miles. I still have a very long way to go. Joyce as usual waits patiently for me. She escorts me to a tent over a bench. I sit down, then I lean over and fall fast asleep.

Funny thing about sleep: its really hard to eat and sleep at the same time. Ten, maybe 15 minutes I sleep, before I wake to find she has changed my socks, shoes, shorts, and shirt. I'd like to eat, but I get way too little into me, before getting up and heading out again. I didn't get near enough calories, so this is going to start ugly. Over the Umcompagre River onto Oak St, then past the laundry mat, right on Queen, left and then the cliff steps leading up to and into the tunnel. The tunnel exits onto a metal bridge over a chasm that you can see through. Its surreal, looking between my own two feet at white water rapids directly below. The Ouray perimeter trail is a flat manicured trail from her up to Camp Bird Rd.

It's 7 miles up Camp Bird Rd. As I go up, so does the sun. I melt under her direct gaze. I try to eat some food, but the scant little I get down does any good. My pace is very slow, conversation nonexistent, prognosis lousy. Mine is a dreary little ascent that takes much longer than I wish. At the overhanging rocks, I stick my head under the cold water that drips off the rock, and wet my bandana, but my energy remains sedate. For all my slowness, I remain resolute and do eventually arrive at Governor's Basin. They have a lawn chair that folds into a cot, that I quickly turn into my bed. 7 minutes I snooze, and rise quickly to go on. Past the aid station, the climb gets steeper, passes through a water crossing, and subsequent switchbacks as the jeep road continues to gain elevation. This entire section is beautiful, booming waterfalls, high mountain vistas, beautiful trees, and water flowers everywhere, but I am blind to it all, turned inside of myself, feeling only the aches and pains, seeing only the rocky road. As much as I try to escape from this prison of my own making, I can't seem to find the key. Chuck Kroger and I used to walk this road together, heading up to his namesake aid station in the slot that we used to call Virginius. It's Kroger's Canteen now, and likely misses Chuck as much as I do on this climb. He always had some sport with me and my Texas roots. I think he liked my gall and teased me more than once in his very dry sense of humor. Today, I had only Chuck's spirit to push me on, but I checked once or twice to see if he wasn't gaining on me. He'd certainly laugh at my pathetic ascent. Leonard has caught me and goes past me at the base of main climb, while I stop to catch my breath. Jennifer is just ahead of him. I love climbing in the snow, up the steps, slipping now and again, but still much easier than on scree. The first pitch is done slow but easy, then across to start the next. The 2nd pitch is half snow and half rock, the snow part passes easily, but the rock is a struggle. Still, once on top, I can see the final pitch and the thought of it raises the bar just a little. Almost done and then a very long downhill to follow. I am tight on Leonard to the top and summit with gusto. I sit down for a cup of broth while the others keep going. A metal plate has been mounted on a rock face with a hook for a lantern. It simply states Kroger's Canteen. The scree on the other side had steps cut into it at one time, but they are gone, so we slide down the loose rock 'til we make the turn for Mendota Saddle.

A thousand rock gardens separate Kroger's Canteen from Mendota Saddle, a sea of rock, one wave after another, as far as my old eyes can see. They're all sharp and menacing, so the trick is to not care, run fast, edge to edge, tip to tip, pretending it's your neighborhood sidewalk and you have to hit every crack. It always seems so odd to me, the difference between going up and going down at this elevation, the difference between feeling bad and good. I am obviously on the feel good side now. Downhill cures all that ails me, today and forever. It is my main source of fuel it seems. It doesn't take us long to get from here to there quickly, and then stopping once there to tighten down our laces. Down the moonscape face, loose and slick, on a trace of trail heading down. It drops us into a high meadow and there we pass Leonard, and keep running. This trail is steep from Mendota to Main St with little easing off and no easy sections to back off the descent. It might be easiest if I'd brought some cardboard and string to sit and ride down. So we bang on down with the breaks untouched, as it should be done, and enjoy the view of Telluride as it peeks at us through the trees a few times before revealing herself completely in all her splendor. A few last turns and then onto a paved road that continues just as steep. Joyce again, waits, watching as we stroll in and finally reach a flat spot at main. Then, we slow to a walk and stroll into the aid station.

John Sharp is sitting there and that troubles me. As much as I like to see friends, I know how slow I am going, and when I see anybody, I know they are in trouble too. I'm ok with my own troubles, but not so much with anyone else's. I as expecting pizza as usual, but Joyce says there was none to be had. Instead she offered avocado and chips, a few large cold drinks, and a change of clothes. I take my time and then walk out with John, Lynn, and Naresh. A nice reunion of sorts for our 4-pack of Texans, as we walk up the tourist trail towards Bear Creek. We seem to go a long way before we see the waterfall: the landmark for the turn we do not want to miss. We cross a fence that says "Closed - Do Not Enter". Not that I was really doing all that grand or anything resembling a run, but I felt ok, until we turn up the trail into the single track. The feel good evaporates in an instant and I drop back into the elephant trudge.

We enter a lush forest paradise on a trail that switches back and forth over the same creek in a series of waterfalls, each one more beautiful than the previous. I stop twice to soak my bandana and pour the fresh cold water on my head. The others seem to be unaffected by the steepness of the climb, talking and moving well, but I am feeling lethargic and struggling to breathe. I suggest we stop for a break, and then another, but it is too much. I realize that John is wasting his time waiting on me, so I suggest he go on ahead, if he can. My gear ratio is way too slow and I am sure he can do much better. Even though I know I am going way too slow, I am still surprised at how quickly John and Naresh drop me and disappear ahead. They're on the switchbacks on the left side of the valley already and climbing rapidly. I'm stuck in sand and getting slower. I put on my game face and keep pushing but it us such a tremendous internal struggle. Lynn is with me and then he is gone ahead. My tortous-ness must be driving him mad. How can he stand to go that slow? He disappears ahead and then sits and waits. I come around a turn and find him waiting for me time and again. At one point, he asks if I'm ok. "No, I am not", I tell him. "Actually, I feel dizzy!" Not sure why, altitude maybe, accumulated altitude, edema, the distance covered, getting old... all of it. I sit down and begin to heave. Everything I had earlier comes up and out. A few more convulses, and then I get up and say, "Breaks over - Time to go". Another fence, just like the other one below, "Closed - Do Not Enter", is ahead of us. We go around it and keep climbing the same trail we've been on for awhile. It's slow, painfully slow. Finally, a flat spot, a high flat meadow makes it easier for a bit, but then there is always more up! At least we can finally see the Wasatch Saddle and the dots of all those well in front of us. We point our toes up at our faces, and I try not to think about how long this is taking. The summit does come to us, but the Wasatch Saddle is but one of a set of twins. No sooner do we summit, than we drop down into the snow on the other side and slide down to the rocky road. Oscar's Pass is just a bit further, so we angle slightly up the rocky road and keep on trudging along. A very black and ugly mass of thunderheads are building directly at the point where we are going, right where the road goes over the edge.

I don't dawdle very long, just long enough to tighten my laces before I start running. We need to get off the summit before all hell busts loose. At 13000-ft, everything revels itself to me: the town of Ophir, Ophir Pass, and Grant/Swamp. Across the valley, I can see rain pouring down on Grant/Swamp, and then the thunderheads directly over my head begin a series of rock rattling booms. Lightning flashes laterally above our heads, but nothing hits the ground. It seems odd that the sun blinds me while a storm sits directly overhead. The road is no more than a field of broken jagged rocks, so running might be the wrong word to describe my descent. Hopping, skipping, and sliding, along with hoping like hell I don't trip. I dare not fall, yet I can't think about falling. I trust my instincts, scan ahead, and keep on going as quickly as possible. Looking for a flat rock or piece of dirt to put my next foot-strike while in mid-air becomes a high speed game of hide and seek. The rocky road swings wide one way and then the other for large sweeping switchbacks, all of it full of lethal rocks, except for a few snow banks that block the road. The rock dance goes full on while the boomers continue to rage. But I dare not look up for fear of going down. Its not a conscious choice so much between electrocution and the meat-cutter, but merely dealing with both at the same time by running as fast as I can. About mid-way down the face, we are finally past the worst of the rocks at the same time the storm silences itself. Lynn, who has been running hard on my heels, goes ahead of me when i slow down. We are finally into the trees and the storm has passed, so I no longer feel the need to go so insanely hard. We have been alone for some time, so it seems strange when we come into a world where other people exist. We pass Roger is on the side of the trail, bent over. He says he has sent ahead for help, that he is done. We pass John next, sitting down, working on his feet. He too says he is done, his feet a mess. It's the down-hills he says. Hell is in the down-hills for him, the opposite for me. Joyce waits on the side of the road by her truck, with a few chairs set out for us. We sit down, and again, I fall asleep immediately. She changes all my gear while I sleep, making ready for the night. George, Barbara, and Moogy are there also with Joyce. Lynn says he is beat, and asks if George might like to take me in. He can go on if needed, but if George is ready, lets swap out pacers. George says he wants to go, so the deal is made.

I ask if anybody wants to trade with me too, but nobody seems to hear. My eyes remain closed and possibly my mouth too. My mind is talking but the body is asleep. Somebody please wake me up so I can go to sleep. I need to get off this course so I can get some sleep. A silent argument begins to rage inside my mind. I have had nothing on the climbs for a long time, and suspect that bit of reality will not change. My path to the finish has three more major climbs, many more water crossings, and all of it in the dark. I'm toast, done, washed up, empty, sleepy, and ready to quit right now. I feel so bad, I just want to lie down and sleep. Bring in the hearse, for surely I am dead. I am certainly having one of those moments, but nobody knows. My demons are banging around inside of my head, beating the hell out of my spirit, my ethos! I cannot make any guarantees, nor promises, and I don't even have the strength to face the ghosts. But I do have a simply underlying desire to try. On rubbery legs and weak stomach, I stand back up and start walking, withholding comment for fear of anybody hearing the hollow sound of nothing left. I will go as long as I can. It is all I can do. If only I can stay awake.

I hear Joyce say - "alright George - take him out!" I feel like somebody else is finally in charge of my body. It gives me an odd comfort, because I know that I sure as hell am not. Margaret comes in as I get up to go, so we walk together down to the aid station, which is further down the road. She stops to get some gear from her drop bag, but George steers me past it, across the creek, and up towards the start of the next big climb. I can hear Leonard just ahead, talking with Jimmy. We are the back of the pack. No grand dreams or high hopes, I can barely stay awake, so I pin everything on simply hanging onto George's pace. Too tired to think, to reason, or even feel bad. Oh, I want it bad... to finish, but it looks dim. After 38 hours, I have scarce little energy to muster any real push, especially with the beast of Grant/Swamp coming at me in the dark. I simply put my head down and track George one step at a time. I know that I can take Grant/Swamp, but I also know it will take time... more than I can spend. I think I'm doing well, but how can I really know. My imagination is a trickster, having fun with my reality. What is real and what is imagined? I feel that this is the best climb I have had all day, but still I wonder. I hang on.

We lose light at treeline, just as we stumble onto the chaos of rocks. The ground disappears first, and then the sky, all of it blending from grey to black. We turn on our headlamps then, creating a small world at our feet, roughly 2-ft x 2-ft. Its all rock, jagged & rough, stacked into a wall leaning away from us, with no top. We crawl up it, one painfully slow step after another, with an occasional slip. My feet slide out from under me a few times, one is a graceful easy thing, where I end up on my knees and elbows, my face against the ground. It is not a comfortable position, and yet I close my eyes and fall into an instant sleep for 5 seconds, no more. I am not sure that George even notices. I try to ask him how much further, but I have no voice: dried out, hoarse, weak, the croak drifting elsewhere and unheard. I slide backwards, fall again and again... a dance of exhaustion. How long, I don't know? My perception is skewed: minutes? hours? and then a spot of light moving above us. It has to be somebody on the face. We stop for a moment and look up at the blackness within the darkness. We can't see anything: sky, rock, summit, track... nothing! It is so dark, that I can't see the final climb even though I am on it. I trust George's instincts & when he says strait, left, or right, I blindly follow his instruction. He tells me to go first, thinking he could handle the rock debris behind me more than I can behind him. Attempting to sprint 100 yards on all fours at 13000-ft is tough enough, then add loose rock and sliding scree, and pre-load with useless legs abused with 90 mountainous miles, and it is almost comical. First: there is no sprint, no surge, no push... which means I am sliding backwards almost as much as I am climbing forward. Once, I simply lay my body on the rocks, protecting my face with my arms, and allow them to take me back down. George is in front now, moving much better, faster, easier than me. He gets above me a few body lengths and then I follow his track, but much slower. It all seems so timeless, in a dream-state, falling from my bed, forever, and never hitting the floor. Unexpectedly, I roll onto the summit. Not being able to see anything removes the visual motivators, so it is a shock to suddenly be where I have been trying to get for so long. I am exhausted and yet the excitement of the moment makes me struggle for air, my breathing hyperventilates. I want to lay down and rest, to close my eyes and sleep, but it is raining now. Maybe it has been all along, but I just now notice. Cold wind and rain hits like a sledgehammer, driving me over the other side. We look for a windbreak, but Joel Zucker's memorial rock is all there is and it offers no place to escape.

We start down the other side, but it is wet and more slippery than I recall. Slowly, carefully, I slide down one muddy track after another, both feet on the ground, and one hand also, with my butt just inches above the rock and dirt. The route is easy to follow, but steep beyond my reasoning. Again it takes way too long, the rain, the dark, it all conspires against me. Finally, down off the beast into the lower Ice Lake Basin, George offers me some avocado, which I take the time to eat. But, it is just more wasted time, as it erupts, evicted by my body, It is past midnight and despite my need for calories, the body want none of it. George waits until my body quits convulsing, and then we continue. No time to dwell on it or anything else: we need to go. Being on the downhill side, we are moving quicker now, covering a lot of ground well. We cross the stream on a bridge of aspens and twine, then climb up into the thick band of trees on the ledge between Ice Lake Basin and Kamm Traverse. During the day, this is a lovely retreat, but during the night, a haunted forest, full of mud bogs and fall downs. George sinks to his knees in mud and then I do as well. We are forced over a one downed tree and around another. It might not be so bad if we could see it coming, but we don't know until we are in it, if we are on solid ground or sinking mud. And again, it takes so much longer than expected on this bumbling scrambling obstacle course by two blind men on a pitch black night. There are times when I am hyper aware of my surroundings... but this was not one of those times. It is a near-full moon night, yet it is dark as a cave, and that means only one thing: very heavy cloud cover. Thunderstorms to be exact, but lurking only, and waiting for me to clear the cover of the trees and expose myself on the naked face of Kamm Traverse. There are more mud bogs on the traverse, with the additional pleasure of some very slippery tundra. The entertainment from below is overshadowed in an instant by an enormous thunder boom from above. It rattles my world and seconds later a bright white flash. The skinny goat trail is slightly downhill and a fast track, but goes on much longer than is comfortable, as a few more thunder booms rumble just overhead.

Out of KT, we cross the stream and wander about in the muddy swamp on the other side. It takes a few tries before we work out the correct exit route through the muddiest mess available. Covered in mud, our upward crawl is slow, but steady. A thick growth of tall trees silences the thundering stream, as it slips behind us. Silence wraps itself around us and sings a soft lullaby, effectively driving the final nail into my coffin. I have been struggling to stay awake for days, and this is just another relapse for me, but now I realize that George is also falling victim. He walks right past a turn marker, and when I point it out, he admits that he is struggling to stay awake. Neither of us can keep our eyes open any longer, and I begin to wonder about the danger of our circumstance. I suggest we both lay down a get a few minutes of sleep, but it is impossible. Not only are our feet cold soaking wet from the creek crossings, but now it begins to rain even harder. We both get cold quickly from just a few seconds of inactivity. We cant sleep and we cant stay awake, so we have no choice but to continue moving, however slow. And of course, the clock is still running. The climb begins by the log at the creek and continues upwards on a warding bit of trail, through the tundra, the composite rocks, a few ledges, and then the swamp on the middle meadow. Its all very muddy and messy, and it's raining again, but we are finally at the base of the big tundra climb to the top of Porcupine. We see a light well overhead: Margaret, most likely. I send her my best wishes, also my regrets for not being there with her. She's moving well and I suspect she will continue to do so. She always finishes well, but it will be close. I most likely will not be even near to close. I never really had it this year from the very beginning: too slow, under-trained, and then this overall exhaustion induced drowsiness. I did way too much work the month leading into this race. Had it been training, it might have been different, but instead it was mentally and physically draining non-training. In my own terms, just another excuse, and no excuse is good. You do it or you do not. I am a bit surprised that I am still in the game and will most likely finish the entire course. Despite being too late and unofficial, it still feels important to me to finish. So, I'll continue as best I can and get done as quickly as possible. Joyce is waiting on me and I hate to keep her waiting. I have always said - "It aint about the finish, it is always about the journey". This run may put the official stamp of approval on that philosophy. There is also the pure & simple bull-headed desire to finish what I have started. The flags keep leading endlessly up. Each time I reach the next one, I see another still further up. The faint outline of the highest point appears to be very far away, and I silently hope that its an optical illusion. maybe I'm not going to the highest point, but to some saddle hidden in the folds much lower. Maybe it is just as I wished, but I quit thinking about it long before I get there.

Across the saddle, we quickly continue down into the long valley. It used to be that I'd stop on each summit just to marvel in the sight and partly to revel in taking yet another peak... but I am past that now. Its mostly about the time now, and partly in getting done so I can lay down in a bed and sleep. I can see the final summit, but the valley does take some time to cross. The flags are easy to follow while we are on trail, but once they start cutting left across the wide meadow, they begin to hide themselves. The clouds are still hiding the moon, but we can see where we are going. Putnam is a massive black hulk, directly in out path. We need to approach the left side, rise at an angle, then cross to the far right before rolling over and down the other side. A few more rollers and then we are finally on it, the last climb. Putnam calls to me and I respond. I don't know what it is, but the higher I get the stronger I get. I struggle badly at first, but as we go, I struggle less, until I feel fairly well by the time I reach the flag that finally starts turning us to the right. That's part of the deception of this climb: we are not going to the top! I am in front of George when I finally level out and start moving to the right. I don't know why, but I start to cry. The pain and discomfort have been with me for a long time, and long ago I realized I would not finish in time, so I am ok with all of that. My emotions are as wrecked as my body, running rampant as they please, tears turn to laughter, anger to joy. But at least I am finally done with the final summit. This, where I usually exult into laughter and rejoicing, dwindles to a smile, no more. Usually this is where I turn up the power a notch and get stronger, go faster. The end game is where I typically get better, but, I can't seem to light the fire. Instead, I have a half-sleep dream of me tumbling down the side of the mountain and unable to stop. I shake it away, but it persists. Another irritant is all it is. A hallucination with me in it. Now thats different. I need to steer my myself away from the cliffs.

We do make a run of it, putting some time on the descent down off Putnam and towards the last aid station. They cheer me in, knowing when they seem my light that I am the last remaining runner out here. I come in to good friends, John, Marcy, and Ann. The look concerned and i check my watch. There is but one hour remaining and now I know without a doubt that it is done. Still, I figure to proceed as quickly as possible to get what can be got.

Leaving out of there, we don't talk, but just run, and run hard, falling many times, slipping off the edge a few times, falling on the rocks, and still running. George humors me, knowing we have no shot in hell, feeding the madness that drives me to just keep running. If I could see his face, I'd likely find some sadness in his eyes. George is a dear friend and should easily have been running this race for himself, but for a dead wait list and no room for more. Instead, he runs late with me to a clock that stops turning in just a few more minutes. Sunrise sneaks up on me, my mind elsewhere, such that in an instant, I realize it is morning. No gentle awareness of it becoming light, but exiting a cave by simply opening my eyes with awareness. Down we go, fast and hard to the water crossing and the rope. I keep checking my watch over and over and when I drop into the river, it is done. We take the rope at exactly 6-am.

While crossing the freezing cold creek, the tension leaves my body. it is done. A few soft questions circle round my thinking. They are not hard and demanding, but as a mother to her child. Did I try hard enough? Did I do enough? Too many 'this' and not enough 'that' excuses line up by the dozens, but it is what it is.... a DNF (in time), but still a DNF. By the time I cross the highway, I chase them all off. Life is good. The run was good. I had an unbelievable two-day tour of the San Juans, with no regrets. Well, maybe one... but it is just a mosquito. The game is over, but I remain the last pawn still on board, waiting to be put away. We wander down Knute's Chute, through the wind blown aspens, across the red rock, and the dirt road. Kendall Mountain fills my view as Silverton peeks through the trees. One last uphill to the shrine, but some power comes from the end game, so we walk briskly up the road, through one turn after another. I can see some people before I see the turn. George tells me, it's Joyce and some others.

This one is for my wife, Joyce... who has done everything possible to nudge me round this ring, a seasoned crew, working a boxer who should have retired a long time ago. How can it not be for her? She smiles so sweetly at me each and every time I came back in. She changed my clothes as I nod off to sleep, puts food in my mouth, washes my feet, refills my water, repacks my pack, and all with a gentle touch and a soft word. An infant in her care, she reads my sign and does what needs to be done without asking. She simply knows. She sleeps as little as I do, worries more, drives from corner to corner, waits endlessly, and feels everything I feel. She is magic and so much more. Arriving beaten and battered, she sends me out reenergized with one of her sweet Texas kisses.

She is there again waiting for me and she has brought along a crowd, friends all. And so it finally ends, with George and me, along with an escort of friends walking down to the hard rock in front of the gym. And as is expected, I kiss the rock... and she kisses me back, and then she wraps her arms around me. I'm ok until she starts to cry. I burry my face in her neck and turn for home, arm-in-arm with... The Rock.

Dalton Wilson - Minimalist Footwear Transition

2009-05-24T13:55:00.013-05:00

Minimalist Footwear Transition

Recently I’ve been hooked into the idea that Mother Nature with her millions of years of evolution, more precisely, the last 1.5 million years with Hominids (bipedal primates… US), that running “naturally” makes the most sense. The most common complaint by non-runners or “would-be”s is that “running is bad for the knees”. This untruth in my opinion can be blamed on the fact that most regular modern humans don’t know HOW to run. As ridiculous as it may sound, I have been propositioned by many at a local fitness center to give “running lessons”. Running, the act of putting one foot in front of the other seems to escape those who don’t regularly enjoy this most basic and primitive of athletic expressions. Having only 10 or so years of ‘serious’ running experience under my belt, but at least 6 years of coaching high school distance runners, has led me to believe that the more we try to ‘correct’ a runner’s gait with devices such as orthotics, motion-controlled shoes, and other “new technology” that we actually deprive the body’s natural ability to cope with impact forces and transfers of energy… therefore slowing us down… or worse, injuring ourselves. Although I take no credit in this revelation, as I am only a recent disciple myself, but I am 100% convinced because of my own recent successes that ‘running natural’ is the simplest way of keeping injury-free and running more efficiently.

The basic premise behind minimalist footwear is that it is less restrictive and allows/forces the feet and ankles to do the job that evolution engineered them to do. The more ‘motion-control’ a shoe has, the less the foot can operate naturally. Less shoe = a more natural, less intrusive stride, which equates to more speed. Most ‘running shoes’ are designed with the heel highly cushioned to absorb the impact of the leading foot to take stress away from the knees, ankles, hips, etc. But in actuality, humans don’t ‘naturally’ run with a ‘heel-strike’ that is in need of the cushioning in the first place. This built-up heel ‘programs’ the runner’s mind into a heel strike type of gait. To ‘reprogram” most runners, a “barefoot” regimen is begun to force the participant to learn to land with a mid-foot plant. This style of running causes less stress and negative acceleration forces to the musculoskeletal structures that means faster, more efficient injury-free running. All of this can be fully researched at http://runningbarefoot.org/ . Once I bought hook, line, and sinker into this idea, I found a shoe that fit needs of the low heel that allowed a more natural gait… these being La Sportiva Fireblades. I was so excited about my newfound quick and natural stride, I began to cut down the heel of all my normal running shoes. I found when I did this, it created a few problems. 1) Cutting the heel leaves the EVA foam exposed, which has NO traction when wet. 2) ON brutal downhills of trail, the EVA alone provided no protection from rocks and other hard objects. 3) EVA doesn’t hold up to wear. After some creative hours in my ‘woodshop’, I think I finally found the answer to finding a use for the half dozen pair of training shoes in my closet. The trick is to lower the heel but retain the outsole with the tread.

The following is a description of my experiment with a few pairs of Teva X-1 Control… my favorite trainers (discontinued… of course).

The X-1 prior to “modification”… high cushion heel commonly found in most running shoes… note the downward angle between heel and toe.

The X-1 marked with a sharpie to denote the area of dissection.

I start by cutting a slice from heel to mid-foot with an old “Ginsu” knife… those they used to sell in the 90’s that would cut a beer can then slice a tomato, but I think any sharp bread knife will do. Stay close to the outsole, but leaving a thin layer of EVA attached.

Next, I cut along my sharpie mark to remove approximately 3/8” of the EVA foam of the midsole.

Here is a view after the heel wedge and nonsensical lateral lace device has been removed.

I’ve used “Shoe-Goo” for years, but have found that it doesn’t stick too well to hard rubber, but it does to EVA foam. When peeling the sole, leaving a thin layer of foam to the hard rubber sole creates a good adhesive surface. Before applying the Goo, I put the shoes on… heels a’ flappin’… to make sure there are no high or weird spots. Form here it’s just a matter of applying the goo and duct taping it down for 1 or 2 days.

Before

After

After the goo sets up, I put the shoes on a bench grinder to finish off the process, removing flares and making things smooth…. Not for the fashioned-minded, but definitely functional and comfy at a mere 8.2 Oz. :^)

Here is the finished product… pancake-shoes… my favorite training shoes… integrity intact, with high-wear tread, now tailored to accentuate my new mid-foot running gait, giving new life to old shoes, relieving my wallet of a completely new “shoe wardrobe”, and sparing my knees and other joints, so I may run painless for the rest of my days.

Coach Joe Prusaitis - Jemez Mtn 50mi Race Report

2009-05-20T11:58:00.001-05:00

Jemez 50mi
Los Alamos, NM
Santa Fe NF
May 16, 2009
Joe Prusaitis

There are over 400 people running today, spread across the 50 mile, 50km, and half marathon. The 50 milers start at 5am, the 50km at 6am, and the half, 2 hours later at 8am. Our group from Austin brings about 35 flat landers to try their luck on this beast of a race. Another 30 some Texans come in as well to add to the parade. Only the 50 mile group will start in the dark, and some of us will also finish in the dark. I have been looking forward to this race for a long time. I have heard how tough it is, with plenty of great climbs and descents, a great Hardrock trainer. I have no idea how I will do. I have come to give it a whirl and get what I can out of it.

Posse 0.0mi to Mitchell Trailhead 5.3mi : 907 gain / 734 lost
We begin in a mob of voices & shadows. I know quite a few of the voices, but there is nothing else I can make out. It is dark, and once we enter the trees, even darker. We bottleneck down into a narrow rock chute and are forced to stop, to wait for our section of the mob to squeeze into single file. I recognize Dalton just in front of me, without a shirt. I can't make out much, due the tight conga line and the narrow beam of my headlamp, my attention is on a spot of trail just in front of me. We are on smooth single track, scattered with rocks, uneven, and skipping about at random. I get the gist our our route from the general direction the lights in front of me are moving, but the trail surface requires constant surveillance. It isn't too bad, but it wont take much to put me on the ground.

Mitchell Trailhead 5.3mi to Guaje Ridge 7.1mi : 1540 gain / 170 lost
Our dry creek-bed turns to a 1500 foot switchback climb to the top of the ridge. Our 1st major climb. Most of us have bunched up as people do on long climbs. The sun rises on this climb, so it's easy to pick out the packs of 4 and 5 people each. Matt, Henry, & Stuart are in the group with 4 others just ahead. Dalton & I are in a group of 5 also. The sun reveals a series of high ridges cascading off into the distance, each a different shade of green, with the sunlight cutting a sharp line across them from its perspective just over the horizon. Oh yea, this is what I came for: the views, the camaraderie, and the feeling of being part of it.

Guaje Ridge 7.1mi to Caballo Base 10.1mi : 835 gain / 1050 lost
The trail falls quickly off the high ridge, too quickly. it is way to steep a drop. My toes are crammed into the toe box of my shoes and canted toward the downhill side. I stop for just an instant to tighten the boa crank on my shoes as snug as I can, but that is the beauty of the boa, it only takes a second, and then I am moving again. A few people immediately in front of me are really struggling with the descent, grabbing trees, and tip toeing down a few of the grades carefully. I blow by easily, having been dealing with this process for years. I usually run very quietly, but in these instances, make as much noise as possible, just so they know I am behind them and coming fast. Some step aside and some do not. I get around them anyway. When the trail opens up in front, I stride out and go even faster. The trail is very twisted with steep loose dirt slides at almost every switch. It is too steep to descend slowly without sliding. The trick is to move quickly on steep descents, if you can. At the bottom is a beautiful narrow shaded valley, thick with trees and a dense undergrowth. The trail leads directly to a concrete dam with a 12 foot metal ladder attached. It looks so out of place. With both water bottles in one hand, I climb the ladder, one handed, swing around the side on top and continue into the dense forest growth. The trail weaves itself into the mountain stream, so I hop over the bubbling brook at uneven intervals. Its cool in here, dark and green, a lush hideaway. I catch glimpses of others up ahead as they appear and disappear as quickly: mountain spirits watching to make certain I don't do any damage. They'll soon realize the only the damage I'll do is self inflicted. And then, I am find a haven of people in a place that seems to be a long way from anywhere.

Caballo Base 10.1mi to Caballo Top 12.1mi : 1771 gain / 45 lost
This is the 2nd major climb, so I sit on a rock to take a short break. Andi is working the station, so we visit while I eat. The lead 50km runners are already going up and the lead 50 milers are already coming down, so this is going to be a very awkward section, trying to climb, breathe, and dodge people going past in both directions. The dynamics of all the interaction will make it much more difficult. Its one big continuous climb to the top of the mountain, only to turn around and come right back down. I begin, and as I do, I find Henry right there with me. I try to focus on a comfortable stride that is short and easy, attempt to control my breathing, and unsuccessful at both. A comfortable rhythm evades me. It is impossible! People coming down and the people going up are all faster than me, forcing me aside again and again. No rhythm is found in the constant starting and stopping. Henry climbs much faster than me so he pulls ahead now and again, but we're both forced to break, and the unevenness of it all keeps us close. It is good to see all the friends go by Its cold on top, the wind blowing hard through the open summit meadow. I check in, turn instantly, and start back down. The climb took 1 hour, roughly, and that surprises me. It seemed so much longer.

Caballo Top 12.1mi to Caballo Base 14.2mi : 45 gain / 1771 lost
We certainly make much better time going down, but still, the interruptions are almost as constant as they were going up. Its easier to breath heading down, so the misery switches from trying to breath to protecting the toes from the steep descent. My shoes seem to be coming apart, the seems have busted out of the upper around the toe box, so my feet are sliding inside my shoes, so the boa cranks are pretty much useless now. Rocks and dirt fill my shoes, but even if I stop to drain them, I'll simply pick up more of the same. I keep going, with Henry right behind me. We pick up Fred near the bottom and also stop to kiss Joyce. She's running the 50km, so I have an hour lead on her. She shows off a nice long bloody cut on one leg and says she is having a great time. We wish her well and continue down, as she goes up. I stop at the bottom to check my shoes, but they are hopelessly trashed, both of them. There is nothing I can do, but ride em out. I do not have a spare pair.

Caballo Base 14.2mi to Pipeline 17.0mi : 1169 gain / 222 lost
The three of us leave together, but Fred is moving much better than Henry and I, so he quickly disappears ahead of us. It doesn't take long before we begin the long climb up out of the valley on a long set of switchbacks. the 3rd major climb has me stuck in granny gear, plodding along in a very slow and methodical manner. My speed is so slow that Henry easily walks ahead. Eventually and brainlessly, I top into a deep forest, where the trail flattens into an old logging road just under 10,000 ft. I am doing better with the altitude on a flat trail, so I start running again, but Henry is really struggling with the altitude, so I catch up to him again. Together we stroll down into the aid station. I drop my headlamp & sopping wet bandanas, drink some juice, and walk out with a turkey & cheese rollup.

Pipeline 17.0mi to Valle Grande 21.0mi : 49 gain / 1009 lost
We have been riding high up on ridge of mountains, and will circle back around to get back up to it again after 18 miles, but now we are diving off a cliff into the Valles Caldera National Preserve. The drop from the rim into the caldera is not only very steep, but also coated with loose dirt and rock. It is near to impossible to stay on your feet for the initial 30 yards. With no purchase for your feet and nothing to grab ahold of either, an incorrect route could take you tumbling down the mountain. Henry and I go over and down with water bottles in one hand and a cheese rollup in the other. A woman on the brink lets us pass, nervous about what to do. I lead, and immediately my feet slip out from under me. I hit the ground hard and slide another 10 feet further. Up again, I look for a better track, left and then right, switch back and forth a few more times before staying near to the trees on the right side. 100 yards down, I stop to wait for Henry. Another 100 yards and the ground begins to tilt up under our feet. We follow a faint single track that becomes a dirt road, flat and slightly downhill. We are in the caldera and it is beautiful all around us. The land opens up on either side, with a road going off to the right. There are no markers, but I know we need to stay left. We check the map to make certain. We are in the Valle de los Posos that should continue strait down into the wide Valle Grande. The rolling road is mostly downhill, so we run a bit and walk a bit. There are a few close behind us, but nobody out front. Looking for some confirmation we are on track and finding none leaves me feeling a little uneasy, but we agree that this looks and feels right. we keep on heading down and then a chalk arrow pointing left provides the warm fuzzy I was looking for. Not long after, the aid station. appears off in the distance.

Valle Grande 21.0mi to Pajarito Canyon 28.7mi : 1598 gain / 2444 lost
This next section seems like it has it all. A very large climb, a whole lot of descent, and a very long section as well. It begins so innocently, crossing a native clump grass prairie that is a lot further to cross than it first appears. It is wide open with nothing more than grass and a few rocks. The route is marked with flags and moves strait ahead towards nothing in particular. I tell Henry that I plan to take a break when we get into the tress, not realizing the trees are a lot further away than they appear. When we finally do fold into the trees. we pull up and sit down in the shade of a large pine, where I lie back on the soft grass and close my eyes. The wind is cool and it is unbelievably beautiful. What a wonderful place to be! Taking my thoughts off the task at hand for just a moment seems to give me more rest than a full blown aid station pit stop. A few people go past us before we pull up and begin again. We climb straight up through the trees to a rock field. Its a massive jumble of big jagged rocks, nothing smaller than a large suitcase and overgrown with green moss. I love to play about on rocks, and dance easily up and across, but realize it isn't near as much entertainment for Henry. Once across, the trail continues strait up, parallel the rock flow, and relentless. Reaching the the summit proves to be just the first of a few false summits, no more than a saddle. Into a high open plain, filled with rough grass and a few scattered wind beat trees, the route turns, bending at an angle back around to the left, heading towards the highest point. Each turn, expecting to finally top out, only discovering another false summit, we seem to slog onward and upward for a very long time until Henry and I along with two others do finally find ourselves at the top of Cerro Grande. All of us stop and stare at each other for a moment, wondering if it can possible be true. And then I start down the other side. A rough, fresh made route marked thru the trees, steep in places, with fall downs to climb over and go around. It isn't much of a trail and the flags are few, so we wonder a few times if we are still on, but I hold to the same general direction til we finally hit a wide open field down low. A guy shooting pictures waves us over in his direction. The route moves past him. We've already covered a good distance but we still have a long way to go. It all seems bit too much. The way our route constantly winds about, taking the most difficult ascents and descents, it doesn't seem possible for us to get to the 5pm cutoff point in the amount of time we have left. With all the second guessing and doubts, it comes as a great relief when the trail suddenly opens up to us a glorious easy single track that bends at just the right angle to really cut loose. Our skinny single track wends its way down through an amazing oasis, a thin valley filled with tall trees and abundant shade. My legs sing with the pleasure of an easy descent to stretch out the tight muscles and relieve my aching feet. For miles we go and wonder how much longer it will stay this way. I dont want to stop, dont dare stop, and then I see the barb-wire fence dead ahead. Another runner is standing there looking at it, searching up along one side and down along the other. A single flag is on the other side waving at us, confirming that we must indeed find a way over the fence. There is no other obvious way, so we help each other across, and in the process, stack a few rocks to make the climb a little easier for the next person. There cant be more than a few runners behind us, but at least we might help them with this hurdle. Again we renew our downward flight. It all seems so easy until we finally reach the bottom and start to bend upwards once again. Its a jeep road, and a little confusing, so with map in hand, we slow down but keep going up. A few twists and turns later, we eventually wander into the longest aid station, very happy and pleased with ourselves.

Pajarito Canyon 28.7mi to Townsite Lift 32.6mi : 1281 gain / 54 lost
For the first time, we become acutely aware of the time and the thin chance we have of making the cutoff, still two aid stations away. We have 3 hours to cover close to 8 miles and 2 very big climbs. Besides the last bit of downhill, we have not been making good enough time to make it. The route out seems easy at first, a gradual climb, small ups and downs, but nevertheless going constantly up. My energy is renewed from the last long downhill, but is it enough? The trail seems to wander about in one direction only to head off in the exact opposite direction. The rhyme and rhythm of it, I just cant make out. I dont really know which direction the trail will eventually take us, and I have the map in my hand. Henry and I talk about it at length as we continue to climb and make our peace with the real possibility of not making the cut off of 5pm at the Ski Lodge. The reality of it is that we are right on the edge and depending on how tough the next climbs are will determine if we will make it or not. Making any real push seems beyond our abilities right now, but we continue as best we can regardless. The trail is dirt at first, from trail to road, then off road into a fresh cut track through a new forest of stunted trees and uneven prairie grass humps. No idea which way it will turn next, but we can hear road traffic nearby. It takes us about 1.5 hours to finally reach the next aid station at the lift. Usually, everybody is pretty upbeat when we come in, but this time, it feels different. I think they know we are too late to do the next section in time. The conversation is friendly but reserved. We're told we have 1.5 hours and its strait up for the next 2.7 miles, and the downhill after it isn't much fun either. I feel as they do that is not likely, but I simply have to see fro myself, so we simply check in and right back out.

Townsite Lift 32.6mi to Ski Lodge 36.2mi : 1409 gain / 1173 lost
As we start out, Mike comes out of the trees and walks in. It is good to finally see him, but he is now on the same bubble we are. We dont wait for him, we cant, also figuring he has caught us and must be moving faster than us anyway. We leave the base of Pajarito Ski area and start going up, heading to the very top. Its all uphill, bending back and forth, crossing two very steep ski runs and then occasionally going strait up. Mike catches us near the summit and we take a short break. When I start again, Mike & Henry dont follow immediately. I dont want to stop again til the top, so I keep moving. Once on top, I sit down to wait for them, only to have Ulli come out on top instead. Ulli tells me we have 28 minutes and can make it if we keep moving. We must go, he says, so I get up and go with him. We drop down and then back up again, then crossways and up some more, passing a big blue bench, and then up some more. It all seems so confusing with flags everywhere and going all around the mountain top. Finally we start to drop strait down the middle of a very steep slope. Ulli says we have 18 minutes, so I start to run strait down. My toes scream, the ankles whine, my legs & knees post notice that what I am doing is not good for anything but getting off the mountain in the quickest way possible. Down and down I run until I reach a cross road that leads me round a group of trees and there is the lodge. I have minutes to spare and am completely in shock that I have made it. I am 36.2 miles in and it has taken me 12 hours to get here. Robert is there and tells me I need to hurry. Get in and get out, you have minutes! I am exhausted, but what about my friends.

Ski Lodge 36.2mi to Pipeline 39.1mi : 629 gain / 293 lost
Ulli comes in 1 minute later. I check out and walk just far enough to make certain I am removed from the station, where I stop and wait, looking back up the mountain to see if they make it. Minutes later, Mike is running in. According to my watch, it is past time, but I dont know for certain when I walk out with Ulli. Is it a done deal? Are we the back of the buss, the last people to make the 5pm 12 hour cut at Ski Lodge? There are no more cuts for the final 11 miles, so there is no longer any reason to hurry. According to the aid station chart, there are also no more climbs of any significance. Relief floods thru me and I relax. Ulli and I saunter along the trail, chatting comfortably, having a wonderful relaxing time. We hike up the trail talking of things gone by and other odd news, alongside a beautiful wide field. I wonder about Mike and the others and turn to see Mike coming up behind us. I am very surprised to also see the others too, coming up behind Mike... Henry, Diana, and Jeff. They all made the cut! And we are all together, the entire back of the pack bringing it in as one. A joyous reunion and an uplifting feeling washes over me, knowing that Mike, Henry, and Diane also made it. I had no idea Diana was even close. We catch up on each others stories on the gradual climb across the open prairie and into the forest. In short order, we all roll together into the next aid station.

Pipeline 39.1mi to Guaje Ridge 42.8mi : 316 gain / 1048 lost
Fred is there and joins us when we leave. With some warm clothes and a headlamp, our parade heads out, walking down the road with 7 miles to go. Its a rough dirt road with a few big rollers, and we split up into each of our own easy paces. Somebody says something about all of us coming in tied for DFL, which draws a good hearty chuckle, but it is no more than a thought. There is no way that this well used group of thoroughly abused runners can manage to stay together. It is beyond any of us to do any thing that requires a thought or a plan. Mike and Diana go ahead, separating from us quickly, then Ulli and me next, walking, but walking much faster than the group behind us. Henry and Jeff next, followed by Fred. The rough road turns to rough single track that bends downhill all the way to the next aid station. As we approach the station, Ulli and I find that Fred has tucked in behind us. Our mixed band of dead last runners accordions along such that Diana leaves as we come in while Henry and Jeff come in as we leave.

Guaje Ridge 42.8mi to Rendija Canyon 48.1mi : 36 gain / 1792 lost
The single track continues downhill with Fred looking for the next best place to unload himself. Fred seems to be looking for something specific, and after 30 minutes or more, I ask him about it. As trail runners, the perfect place seems to be pretty easy to find, so I'm confused why he doest just go, if he needs to take care of business. Poor Fred has been dealing with this all day, such that he is looking for the same perfect place on the return trip that he stopped on the going out trip. Fred, we have a different route going back than we have coming back. Its a different trail. The meaning of it finally hits him when he realizes that he is not going to see the same spot. Seconds later, he steps off the trail. I feel so bad for Fred, but it is funny too. Ulli and I keep going, and I try not to laugh.

As the sun drops over the horizon and the moon begins to light our way, we drift thru a burned our dead tree forest. The thing most notable about this forest of the dead is the sound the wind makes as it whistles thru the many holes in the black hulks. It has the sound of somebody whispering just on the edge of understanding. I find myself canting my head so that I might catch a word by tuning my head at the right angle. Its not all that ugly or ghastly as much as it is interesting. Soon after the burn, we pull up on Diana. I get involved in conversation with Diana and without realizing it, have picked up my pace and dropped Ulli. Diana and I meander down a dirt road, following a few well marked turns, and then it is dark. I know that everybody is close, but in the dark, it feels as if we are all alone. We go without lights for a bit under the moons half light, until we drop down into a dark slot, where I start to worry a bit about missing a flag or a step. I've been dragging my feet for some time, thumping into one rock after another, without much of a concern about it, until now in the dark and a deep canyon off my left shoulder. As soon as I turn my headlamp on, i start thumping into everything. I need to get adjusted to using the light. It certainly lights the space in front of me, but everything peripheral has disappeared into blind darkness outside the beam.

The wind has been intermittently blowing off and on all day. For minutes only, it blows hard and cold, then it is gone, leaving me hot and sweaty. My gloves are either in my hands or on my hands. I left my wide brimmed hat at Pipeline and now wear a pullover do-rag with headlamp. I have 2 shirts on and a rain jacket wrapped around my waist. The rain seems to have been right on the edge all day, raining for a few drops only and then nothing. I have felt it more than a few times all day, but it has never busted loose. For me, it has been almost the perfect weather. We finally roll into the last aid station before the finish, but have no reason to stay. They are a cheerful bunch playing on a christmas them, but its only 2 miles to done, so we leave quickly.

Rendija Canyon 48.1mi to Finish 50.0mi : 426 gain / 206 lost
We start with a nice little climb, a few switchbacks, up and out. It is so dark, my world is reduced to the small beam directly in front of me, and no more. Diana and I rise up and then it becomes a gently rolling trail on in. Arrows point in both directions on the ground indicating I am going the correct way... this being the return route that was the same trail that I went out more than 16 hours ago. I didn't see anything then and I still cant see anything now. There is little to remember and my senses are more tuned to the pain in my feet than in trying to recall bits & pieces of trail I may have glimpsed on the way out. Diana remembers this much better than me, having seen this in the daylight last year. I stay on task with the trail marking and she has good recall, so between the two of us, we manage to stay on route without any hiccups. The final climb finally does arrive as we start up and out of the creek through a tight rocky chute with so much rock on both sides that my knuckles drag on both hands. Possible I have regressed to my neanderthal roots. I hear a voice just ahead in the dark saying 'congratulations' and I know it is Joyce. We are pretty much done and when she sees it is Diana & me coming in, she runs ahead to lead us the final 50 yards or so, around the corner and across the finish line. Most of our friends are patiently waiting for us and have been there for many hours. It is a pleasure to be done and a pleasure to have done it. What a treat to have so many friends there to share in the accomplishment. It simply adds to the enjoyment of it all.

The course is one of the prettiest I have been on, the weather would be hard to beat, and the race one of the most difficult I have attempted. 16:40 to cover 50 miles is testament enough for me. It wasn't my best day, my own training was lacking a bit, but we all carry a few demons on these adventures, so I was very happy to finish the entirety of it. I wasn't sure I would make the cutoff. Actually, I was pretty certain I would not. The panoramic views were gorgeous all day long. There was not a single section I did not like. I could have stopped anywhere and did, just to enjoy the spectacular views all around. The high desert mountains seem to hold a special bond for me for some reason. I thought the scenery breathtakingly beautiful for the entire route. The Caldera, Caballo, and so on. I had the real pleasure of spending many hours with so many dear friends. Hours on end with Henry Hobbs, Mike Sawyer, Diana Heynen, Ulli Kamm, Dalton Wilson, Fred Thompson, and others. The journey was sweet, the struggle real, and the reward - priceless.

Zane Grey 2009 (Larry King)

2009-05-10T13:47:00.000-05:00

I have been to Zane Grey once before. It was my second 50 miler and it was a doosy. I ran it the only year they ran it from East to West, which is, supposedly, the “easy” direction. But the finish times that day didn’t reflect that. It took me 15:17 to finish and still, to this day, is my proudest finish because I had to fight for every step from mile 17 to the finish. I haven’t had to go so deep within myself to muster the will to finish anything in my life like I did that day. And, that is what makes it so memorable.

My training leading up to Zane Grey was directed by Paul DeWitt. Since I was so focused on running my first marathon this past February, my trail running suffered. I had become a road runner and spent 6 days a week running roads in the Northwest Hills of Austin. It came to a point where I was looking forward to the marathon more for the finish than the actual race, mainly, because I knew once I crossed the finish line, I would officially become a trail runner, again. Plus, I was on the razor’s edge of injury and dealt with a calf sprain the last month in preparation for the marathon. After the marathon, I spent two solid months trying to prepare as best I could for Zane Grey. Due to my visitation schedule with my son, I had to get creative with my long runs. On the weekends I had my son, I did no Saturday run and, typically, began my Sunday run after 5pm. Doing the math, it’s not difficult to determine I was finishing very late into the evening. On the occasions where I had back to back weekend visitations, I would do back-to-back runs on Wednesday and Thursday nights. Obviously, not ideal, but one can either give up on training adequately or improvise and make it work. The remainder of the weekly training consisted of a tempo runs (flat on road or trail, treadmill cut-down, treadmill incline up to 7%) interspersed with easy days and form drills. My first few weeks after the marathon were difficult miles. I had lost my trail legs and felt like a new-born fawn learning how to walk for the first time. I remember how much my ankles hurt after busting a hard tempo run on Forest Ridge.

I had a lot of nervous energy on race morning. I was eager to get going and the 5am start had to be the most low key beginning of any race I have experience. My goal was to break 11 hours, but more realistically I was shooting for 12 hours in the back of my mind. I knew it was a stretch, but I didn’t care. At the start, we all headed out like a herd of turtles, almost immediately, onto the initial wide single-track. It was still pitch dark with just a very slight hint of the approaching dawn on the lowest portion of the eastern horizon. I stopped using my flashlight early, since there were so many others with a light. The first climb of the day came soon and I noticed my heart rate was a little high for the effort and the altitude. It reminded me of the day before the race, Olga and I had walked the first mile of the course and I was breathing hard. That concerned me since I was barely above 5,000 feet and that is, typically, sea level for me based on my past experience. It was a long conga line all the way to the top. I made it into the first aid station (Geronimo) at 8 miles between my two time goals. I continued the same pace for the next 9+ mile stretch into the next aid station (Washington Park). I was really working on holding back and being ultra conservative with my pace. My original plan was to pick up the pace after mile 17, but I was afraid to commit. I have a healthy dose of respect for the course, even if I don’t remember much about it other than I suffered greatly the first time. But, I do remember how difficult the miles from 17 (Washington Park) to 33 (Fish Hatchery) would be, based on what I’ve read and personal experience. I was, also, pleased that I had trained on the identical running surface for the past two months in Austin. It made dealing with the rocks more manageable. During my long training runs, I had created a route specific to what I knew I would encounter on the race course. My nemesis for the day would be lack of hill training. It was the most underprepared I had ever been for hills, and that made me nervous in the weeks leading up to the race. The only difference between the Zane Grey rock and Austin rock was at Zane Grey, they’re all loose and unstable to step on most of the time. Austin is, mostly, solid limestone. Probably the best decision I made that day was to run in the La Sportiva Fireblades. Those shoes worked flawlessly during the race and gripped the rocks flawlessly. There wasn’t a place I wasn’t afraid to put my foot for fear of slipping.

The miles between Washington Park and the Fish Hatchery were long and arduous. There were times on the trail where all I could do was laugh and smile. It’s really difficult to put in words or pictures just how insanely rocky the course is in places. In addition, if there wasn’t flagging on the course, it would be impossible to even determine where the trail was located. This was especially true in the grassy areas where everything looked the same. I made it to Hell’s Gate (mile 23 or 25, depending on who you talk to…) in 5:29. The aid station volunteers said I was halfway there. I jokingly disagreed and told them the halfway point was at mile 33. I stayed just long enough to fill my bottles and headed out directly into a climb, bushwhacking my way up the trail through the Manzanita, Gambel Oak, and occasional sticker bush. I knew the next 10+ mile section was considered one of the most difficult parts of the race. I had tempered my pace until Hell’s Gate hoping it was ensure I had enough in the tank to finish without struggling too much. I knew the first half of the next section was the most difficult and I continued to be conservative with my effort in hopes of preventing a complete unraveling before the finish. I, honestly, don’t remember much about this section, other than getting passed by many runners. I continued to struggle with the uphills and had to force myself to take gels. I try to keep my nutrition plans simple. Drink at least 20oz fluid (containing electrolytes) each hour and take a gel every 30 minutes. Plus, an S-cap every hour, too. The goal is 300 calories/hour. Thankfully, it seems to work for me. I made it to the Fish Hatchery at mile 33 unscathed and feeling great. Probably too good. I spent way too much time organizing for the next 11+ mile section, but I wanted to get it right before I left for the trail. As I walked down the road to the trail, I eyed a volunteer carrying a bag of ice. It was at that moment I wanted to jump into an entire pool of ice. I was smiling and keeping up my spirits. She commented on how strong I looked. Maybe, I am a good actor.

Not too long after hitting the trail, my spirits took a severe downturn. I really didn’t want to deal with any more ridiculously rocky climbs where bushwhacking was the standard practice. I began to feel like Moses in the wilderness. I questioned why I was out on the trail. Why do I run these distances? Am I really cut out to do this stuff? Am I really a runner? How is Olga doing? I hope she’s doing well, since it’s her first big test since last Fall’s femur stress fracture. On occasion, I would look behind me to take in the views and see if, by chance, Olga was there. I had thoughts that if she caught me, I would tell her to keep going and leave me to my own self pity. As, I continued, I continued to get passed by other runners. I was seriously considering dropping at mile 44. I didn’t see the point in finishing. As I trudged along, I forced myself to stick to my nutrition plan. I realize that we are most vulnerable to neglecting our nutritional and hydration needs when we begin feeling bad. Eventually, something clicked. I don’t know what it was, but I felt a sudden burst of energy. On every flattish section and downhill, I began to run strong. The more I ran, the more I wanted to run. And, the trail seemed to get easier the farther I went. I was looking around more at the gorgeous scenery. It was breathtaking. And, then, I began passing people. And, it was great to hear the encouragement from others as I would pass by. My legs felt fresh and all I could think of was how much fun I was having out in the forest. Once in awhile, I would begin yelling and hollering to the wind. I felt reborn. I was climbing up the hills very strong, as if they were the first ones of the day. I made it into mile 44 (Christopher Creek) with a smile on my face. The section I just ran were my fastest miles of the day, thus far. I, quickly, refilled my bottles, ate a gel, and ran out of the aid station.

I continued running strong and passing some more runners. I felt bad passing a few, because I closed on them so quickly, that I startled a few of them. I apologized as I passed. After crossing a creek, the final big climb began. After fifteen minutes without seeing a yellow ribbon, I became concerned I was not on the correct trail. Eventually, I stopped, and began walking and jogging back down the trail. I had passed a woman earlier and wanted to wait for her to see if she came up the trail. After a few minutes I saw her down below and yelled to her, asking if I was going the right way. She said “yes”, and mentioned she remembered this section from last year. I turned and began running, again. After, about 10 more minutes, I, finally, saw a yellow ribbon. Whew! I continued running and even ran a few of the shorter uphill sections. The late afternoon light was emphasizing the terrain quite beautifully. I looked at my watch and knew I had a slim to none chance of breaking Olga’s best of 12:15. All I could think was, “she’s a bad ass!”. As I crested a climb, a man sitting on a rock watching the runners said it was 10 minutes to the finish. Damn! I, immediately began running, since I thought his estimate was based on walking pace. Those final 6 miles were the fastest of the day for me. As I was running along the trail the trail turned hard left and I saw a group of people sitting on large. It was at this moment I realized it was the finish line. I was smiling and happy. It is a unique way of finishing, not knowing until the last hundred feet, or so, that you’re done--12:36. Definitely, not my goal finish time, but I was very happy with those last 17 miles. It was the strongest I have ever finished a 50 miler. I have to admit, I really like the Zane Grey course. I’m already entertaining the thought of when I’ll be back…

Jester Adventure Run for Project Schoolhouse

2009-05-04T12:48:00.001-05:00

Date: Friday April 3rd 7:30 p.m.-Saturday April 4th 7:30p.m.
Location: Jester Blvd. Hill
Elevation: 300+ ft. climb and descent
Mileage: ½+ mile-from first parking lot entrance to Anaqua
Goal: 50 repeats/50 miles(15,000+ ft. climb and descent) within 24 hours
Actual: 60 repeats/60 miles(18,000+ ft. climb and descent) in 22 ½ hours
Weather: Incredible weather Friday evening, but warmed up quickly on Saturday-too hot in the afternoon
Fundraiser Total = $3,200

Typically, most people, including myself, thank those that support our adventures to close a report. However, I would like to change things up a little bit and start my report by thanking all those that played a significant role in my fundraiser and adventure. To my wife, who was there to support me for all 22 ½ hours, my parents and Gramps, my brother, Dave, my sister in-law, Kris who was incredible in getting the Jester community involved and continually asked how she could help, my little nieces, especially Kaeley who did a hill repeat with me, my in-laws Becky & Mac McWhorter, Thomas Barker(Director of Project Schoolhouse), Team Traverse: John Reynolds, TJ & Kara Thomspon, Brad Quinn, Josue Stephens & Paula Ring, Diana & Robert Heynen, my coach, Joe Prusaitis, HCTR, Chris Bennett, Seth Galton, Adrienne Bay, Doug Williams, Robert Melendez, Derek Purvis, Gabe Ayson, Laurie and David Byrne, Laura Tharp, Stephan Lips, Shan Rooney, John Schloegel(ND Grad!), Bhavesh Patel and his son, Chris Anderson, Kev Zonana, Gail Simmons and the Jester community at large. There were many Jester residents that provided encouragement and donated money. Thank you to everyone!

A few months ago, our team, Traverse Trail Running, met to talk about our philanthropic goals for the next year or so. It was decided that we focus our efforts in conjunction with “Project Schoolhouse” to help fund the building of schools in impoverished areas within Nicaragua. I wanted to make an immediate impact and came up with the idea of doing a training run in preparation for my goal race in June, the Bighorn 100 Miler, in the mountains of Wyoming. In addition, I could simultaneously raise money for “Project Schoolhouse” and make a dent in our team goal of raising $40,000 to build a school from the ground up. I thought it would be cool if I got my students involved in the fundraising aspect. I told my 4 classes that the class that raises the most money would earn a pizza party. The students seemed excited and their effort to raise money exceeded my expectations.

I really wanted the run to be unique and prepare me well for Bighorn. Since Bighorn is in the mountains of Bighorn National Forest and includes 18,000 ft. of climb and descent, I decided it would be fitting to throw down some hill repeats….for 24 hours. I chose the intense hill on Jester Blvd. because I believe this is where my love for hills initially began.

Several years ago before I moved down to Austin, I visited my brother, Dave and my sister in-law, Kris. My passion for running at this time began to take off and I was running at least 5-6/week. Dave and Kris just moved into the Jester community. After I arrived in Austin, I immediately asked my brother about good places to run in his neighborhood. He told me about the hills in his community: Lakewood had a couple of good rollers to it and Beauford was steep and intense. However, he thought that Jester was the toughest hill among the three. As we drove up the hill, I was surprised at the elevation, but my perspective was skewed since we were driving a car. I thought to myself, ‘this hill can’t be that tough to run up.’ I voiced my opinion to my brother and he responded with a sarcastic, “Good luck!” I looked at this as a challenge and had to give it a try. Later on in the day I went out for a run. I warmed up on the flat sections of the neighborhood and then shot down the hill of Jester. My goal was to run all the way up to the top, which is about a ½ mile before it flattens out and gains about 300+ ft. in elevation. The first few 100 yards were not too bad, but this changed quickly as my lungs started to burn and my legs felt as heavy as tree trunks made of oak. I think I may have reached the halfway point before I was forced to walk the rest of the way to the top. That sparked a fire inside me and I was determined to come back and run the entire hill. The challenge of hills, for me personally, is very rewarding no matter how much it hurts. Who would know that years later I would attempt to do 50 repeats in the span of 24 hours? Granted, my plan was to power walk all the ups.

The work week came to a close. I drove home where I gathered my belongings and everything I needed for my adventure. I kept telling Katie how nervous I was. This feeling that infiltrated my body was ironic because I was not shooting for a PR or competing against anyone. It was me challenging myself with the unknown. I had absolutely no idea what to expect and I certainly did not want to let anyone down. The more I reflect; the fear of the unknown and possibility of failure were two motivational forces and certainly accounted for my nerves.

I spoke to my coach, Joe, beforehand and asked him for advice and suggestions. He told me that I needed to be especially careful on the downhills due to the excessive pounding on my quads and toes. He recommended that I bring a couple pair of shoes and run the downhills in a zigzag manner to work other muscles in order to avoid direct impact on my quads. I decided to go with my trusty Montrail Masai’s and had some New Balance road shows for back-up. My nutrition would consist of Spiz, pretzels, Ensure, bagels, beer(you may laugh, but it had a calming effect on my stomach when it wasn’t feeling right) and I would take 2 salt tablets every hour.

With about 10 minutes to spare before I started my journey, Katie took a couple of pictures of me standing above the enlarged Jester sign on the corner of 2222 and Jester Blvd. Katie was my one-person crew and I had everything I needed in coolers at the bottom of the hill. I began my first hill repeat at 7:30 p.m. sharp, and I power-walked up the hill, going against my urge to run. As I reached the apex to turn around, one of my co-workers, Laurie drove up and gave me some words of encouragement. I turned around at Anaqua(the top of the hill) and zigzagged conservatively down completing my first repeat/mile in 12 minutes. As I descended I saw my Mom and a fella I have never met before. I was greeted by Thomas Barker, Director of Project Schoolhouse. We chatted briefly and Katie took a picture of the two of us. It was cool that he came out to support my run. During the next 8 repeats, I was in a groove. My parents, Katie and Thomas set up a couple of signs that promoted Project Schoolhouse that were well lit.

I got a nice mental boost anytime someone came to support me and just hang out. Seth and Chris arrived about an hour into my run. They were awesome because they not only were there to support me, but they gave Katie some company past midnight. They even returned the next day to see how I was doing! Shortly after Chris and Seth, Brad arrived. Brad did 3 repeats with me and Josue and his dog, Otis, joined us for 2 of those. Other people that came out to support Saturday evening were my brother, Dave, TJ and Kara, Paula and Robert Melendez.

Seth joined me for repeats 15 and 16, which was around midnight. It was around this time that my stomach was giving me some trouble. I decided to pop open a beer. It gave my stomach a calming effect, much like taking Pepto-Bismol. I was pleasantly surprised by the results and beer became part of my nutrition for the next 18+ hours.

During repeats #17-20 was when I hit somewhat of low point mentally. I started to think about the magnitude of what I wanted to accomplish and I was not even halfway to my goal. After repeat #20 I changed out my Montrail's and put on my New Balance road shoes. My Montrail’s were working well, but I decided it was time for a fresh pair of shoes.

Enter, my friend, Derek Purvis. His arrival and joining me for 6 hill repeats from about 1:30a.m.-3:00a.m. got me back in a positive state of mind. In addition, it was nice to have someone with me when people were driving home from the bars. I am happy to report I did not have any close encounters with vehicles, although there were a handful of cars that came up the hill pretty quickly.

When Derek left I was beyond the halfway point. His timing could not have been better and I was very grateful of his support. Up to repeat #26, my quads and feet were doing well. Once Derek left, Katie said she was going to get some sleep in the car. Unfortunately, she was unsuccessful in her attempt and only slept for about an hour or so. From about 3:00-4:45 a.m., I was on my own. I would have to say that this was my second low point of my adventure, but it did not last long.

As I was walking up the hill for my 31st repeat and pick-up truck pulled up along side of me and a woman yelled out of the window, “You need some company?” Diana hopped out of the car and joined me for 3 repeats before she and Robert drove to Bastrop State Park for a training run. Once again, this gave me a mental boost! I was very appreciative that they literally went out of their way to come out to support me so early in the morning.

Robert and Diana had to leave and before I knew it John showed up with breakfast tacos! I refueled with a couple of potato and egg breakfast tacos and we cranked out 8 hill repeats together. It was only 9:30 in the morning and I hit 44 repeats. I knew I was going to hit my goal. The sun came up and I could tell it was going to be a hot day. I did not want to stop after I hit my goal of 50, but I was not going to trash my body in the heat. I decided to go for 60 repeats and reassess once I got to that point.

John had to take off and I ripped off a few more repeats solo. Gabe was on a training run and joined me for repeat #48. I did # 49 on my own and then my Mom joined me for hill repeat #50. It was definitely special to reach my goal, but it will be a lasting memory because I experienced it with my Mom. She was a trooper. At one point she did not think she would make it to the top of the hill, but I told her we were in no rush and I knew she could do it. I finished #50 before noon and celebrated with a beer.

I was glad to hit my goal earlier than anticipated because it was starting to get hot and I perform horribly in the heat. The last 10 repeats were very laid-back and several people came out to support me. Katie joined me for #56-that was certainly memorable! #58 was really cool, too! My niece, Kaeley, my brother, Dave and Diana O’Connell did a repeat with me. It was neat to see my 6 year old niece in action. Katie and I completed #59 together and for the grand finale, #60, I was joined by Katie, Diana & Robert, Bhavesh & his son and Derek. It was impressive seeing Bhaveshs' son fly down the hill with ease. I decided to call it a day after 22 ½ hours and enjoyed my beer, yogurt from Josue and Paula and hanging out with my friends and family. Thanks again to all those that supported my adventure and fundraising efforts!

-h2

Waco 50k TNT Report

2009-03-30T13:48:00.000-05:00

Waco TNT 50K
Event: Toughest N' Texas Trail Run
Location: Waco, TX- Cameron Park
Distance: 50k
Date: Saturday 3/7/09
Start Time: A few minutes after 7:00 a.m.
Weather: Overcast, Warm
Run Time: 4:24.42(1:20.03, 1:24.44, 1:39.55)
Place: 2nd Overall

In my 5+ years living in TX there are several places and parks where I have not run. At the top of my wish list are Big Bend and the Guadalupe Mountains(I’m taking a four-day training weekend out there at the end of April-can’t wait!). I was fortunate enough to finally run through Cameron Park in Waco, TX. I had been told by many people that Cameron Park was full of hills and Tim Neckar, the race director, made certain to include as many of those hills as possible throughout the course.

The race was originally going to start at 6:30a.m., just before sunrise, but, there were some issues with the water and aid stations, so we did not start until a few minutes after 7:00. Those that do not run well in warm weather, which includes me, were disappointed we lost the half hour of cooler weather. However, I have learned there are many things that are out of my control and you just need to push things aside and focus that much more on the task at hand. Mentally, I told myself this was going to be a training run: 1. go out conservatively and 2. work the hills. The first loop(each loop was about 10.3 miles) I failed to adhere to numbers 1 and 2. I got competitive with two fellas that took off from the start, and as a result, went out much faster than I had planned for the first loop. Can you say, “Jackass?” I did work the hills, so not all was lost due to my impatience and stupidity. I came in around 1:20, about 10 minutes faster than I planned.

The course starts at the Redwood Shelter in Cameron Park. The first mile or so of each loop is flat, as the route takes you along the edge of the Brazos River. The next few miles have some short, tough climbs. One of which you need to get on your hands and knees and look for branches to use for leverage. I made the mistake of grabbing a piece of bamboo on my first loop. In doing so, the bamboo split and the sharp edge cut my hand. I did not realize my hand was cut and bloody until a few miles afterward. After the first 4-5 miles, the course mellows out to rolling hills very similar to Walnut Creek in Austin. For those that are not familiar with Walnut Creek, the trails are primarily packed dirt geared towards mountain bikers, full of twists, turns, quick ups and downs.

The second half of the loop is definitely easier than the first half, but there is one digger at the end of each loop: “Jacobs Ladder.” “Jacobs Ladder” consists of several steps that are 24+ inches tall. I looked at this section as a personal challenge. I was determined to never use the railing for leverage and never stop momentum going upwards. Once you get to the top of the stairs, the course winds around and finishes back at Redwood Shelter.

After the first loop, I knew I was going to pay dearly on the third loop due to going out too fast and the warmer weather that was creeping in. The second loop I went out with the leader, Zach. We talked for a bit during the first 2 miles. After the first climb, I put some space between us, but he quickly caught back up to me on the flats and downs. At the halfway point during the loop, he took off and I would never see him again. I had a hard time making the decision of not chasing after him, but upon reflection it was smart. I later found out he is an 8:20 100k’er. At this point of the run I decided to just keep my pace steady and work the ups.

I only added 4 minutes to my time from the first loop. Mentally this gave me a boost, but after about 2 miles into the final loop, I knew the last 8 miles would be tough and seem like they would never end. With the exception of the hands and knees climb and “Jacobs Ladder” I aimed to run all the ups. I got to about mile 5 before I submitted to power-walking an up. The warmer weather was getting to me, although it could have been much worse had the sun been out consistently and if the majority of the trails were not well-shaded. Mentally, I just wanted to finish, grab some food and throw down some brews. Eventually, I cruised across the finish line in 4:24 with a horrendous third loop split of 1:39. Overall, I was happy with my time, but not exactly with how I ran. I chalked it up to a solid training run to kick off my preparation for the Bighorn 100 miler in June.

Shortly after I finished, I grabbed some food and threw down some beers with the Hill Country Trail Running group and cheered on other runners as they finished. Huge thanks to my wife, Katie, who crewed for me as I came in each loop!

-h2

2009 brings...

2009-02-16T20:04:00.001-06:00

I have not posted on my blog for awhile, just sort of a habit I got out of.
Ultramaraton Fuego y Agua 2008 kept me very busy and when it was over I was brain dead for several weeks. I think I am finally recovering from it and realizing there is now a 2009 event to plan for.
We are completely overhauling the Fuego y Agua site for 2009.

Brand new website
New logo
New color designs
Online signup
Volunteer page with signup
More Nicaragua content and information

We are also changing the race format for 2009 and adding some new features

New race start/finish (Hacienda Merida on Maderas side of island)
25k/50k/100k distances
2/3-person Team Relay option (4 25k sections totaling the 100k course)
$300 entry fee for 100k, $250 for 50k, $150 for 25k, $200 per person for Team Relay

On a personal side, my running has suffered since the motorcycle accident on Ometepe Dec 13th.
I did not notice how bad it was until I attempted the Bandera 100k on Jan 10th. I felt my ankle at around 10 miles and backed way off thinking it would allow me to finish the race. By the time I got into the 50k split my ankle was throbbing. I did not notice a whole lot of swelling, but I definitely felt it. John Reynolds gave me an Aleve around 40k, but it only took the edge off of the pain. I sat down and iced the ankle for a while then got back up to continue on the course. Paula had just finished the 25k, her longest run to date, and I asked her to pace me to Nachos aid station (about 5.6 miles). We ran/walked to Nachos, she was very patient with me, but when I made it there my ankle was in extreme pain. It was there Michael Sawyer, a fellow runner, reminded me it was not worth the race to mess up my ankle. This was a turning point for me, I decided to DNF once again to save the ankle.

I paced Brad Quinn for 20 miles at Rocky Raccoon last week, this was pretty much the last straw for my ankle, I feel pain just sitting still.

I had my ankle x-rayed and the doctor told me there are no apparent fractures. I visited the Orthopedist today and he set me up for an MRI appointment. He thinks this is a stress fracture, but I am not sure he is right. I might end up going to Physical Therapy this time

Since Bandera I have only run five or six times. I have been working out at the gym doing weights, rowing, cycling and stretching. Yes, it is driving me mad, but I know it is the best thing for me.

I might get into Jemez, it all depends on how I heal. Both Paula and I are in the same boat right now with hurt right ankles. We are not bringing each other down, we are motivating each other to find other activities other than running to keep us busy and healthy.

Paula is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me!

Children's Orphanage Benefit Run: 50k

2009-02-05T19:26:00.001-06:00

Saturday January 24, 2009
Bluff Creek Ranch, Warda, TX
Children's Orphanage Benefit Run
Distance: 50k
Start Time: 9:00 a.m.
Run Time: 3:35.09

I rolled out of bed on a chilly Saturday morning, ate a hearty breakfast and then hit the road to Warda. I gave myself a nice two hour cushion for a trip that should take me a little over an hour, so I could get settled before the start of the run. This ended up being a good decision on my part. Instead of going North on 77 I went South all the way to I-10 before realizing I had to turn around. I tacked on 45 minutes to my trip. As a result, I pulled into the Ranch with only 15 minutes to spare before the start. I jogged into the lodge, registered, pinned on my bib, filled up my bottles and got things organized. It was pretty nerve-racking, but I soon realized I would be able to get things in order and start on time.

I went through my mental checklist and I decided to carry one water bottle, take 2 salt tabs every hour and eat shot bloks and graham crackers throughout the run. I kept it pretty simple. My run strategy entailed going out relaxed on the first loop and then try to build a little bit thereafter. I figured this would be a solid training run before the Rocky Raccoon 50 miler which was 2 weeks away. Minutes from the start, I realized that Francisco "Paco" Garza would be running. I never formally met him, but I knew that he is very fast. How often do you set out a plan and do not end up following it?

Damon gathered all the runners before the start to briefly explain the course. A 7.75 mile loop would be completed 4 times that hit the majority of the trails throughout the ranch. There would be aid about halfway through the loop and then aid back at the start/finish area. Damon warned that there would be a few inclines on the back half of the loop, which I distinctly remember from when I ran at the ranch over a year ago. He then spoke about the inspiration to put on this event. 100% of all funds received from the race would go towards the completion of building an orphanage in Matamoros, Mexico, specifically, a water line from the city to the orphanage. What a great cause!

Precisely at 9:00 a.m. we were sent off. I settled in right behind "Paco" and Derek Purvis, another solid runner, was in tow. The pace was as perfect as the cool temperature. I kept reminding myself to relax and run my own race. "Paco" and I hit the halfway point in the loop and stopped at the aid station to refuel. I quickly refilled my water bottle and took off. At this point my competitive side greatly overshadowed my initial laid-back plan of a training stroll through the ranch. I came in the first loop in a little over 50 minutes. When I saw my time I could not help contain my enthusiasm to go after a PR. As a result, my plans of running a 4-4:15 flew out the window.

On my second loop I was determined to stay steady and not stray from my pace. Mentally I wanted to build each loop. I wasted very little time at aid stations. I just grabbed what I needed, refilled my water bottle and tried to keep the momentum going. I knew if I backed off even a little bit, "Paco" would reel me in. At the halfway point I was very pleased about how I felt and knew I had a good shot at a PR.

I believe swimming and running share many common strategies when it comes to pacing and racing. I looked at my third loop as the 3rd 50 of swimming a 200. I wanted to push and try to increase the gap. I feel like around this point in any race is pivotal. There were times during each loop that I was running out in the open field. Depending on which way I was going the wind was either pushing me back or carrying me forward. During the third loop, the short ups were starting to take a toll on my leg strength. I could not help, but laugh at myself as I really had to focus on keeping my turnover going. There was no way I was going to walk a lick of the course.

I consistently get asked the question from friends and family, "What do you think about while you run?" The one thought that stood out among the hundreds of streaming thoughts during my run was how much I appreciate my Mom and Dad and how fortunate I am to be their son! My heart genuinely goes out to those that never had parents or have parents they despise.

The fourth and final loop did not go as well as I would have liked. However, I crossed the line and got a PR by more than 3 minutes! I was extremely psyched! Damon was there to congratulate me. As always, Damon and his son are extremely hospitable and first-class individuals. I always look forward to running at Bluff Creek. Damon made me some soup and I ate a turkey sandwich-both hit the spot. "Paco" came in shortly after I finished. I introduced myself and congratulated him on a great run. We sat down inside, ate and drank and were joined by other finishers. I met a few other runners: Corey, Mark C., Mark F., 2 Joe's and Abigail. I hung out for a while, had some beers, received a really unique award from Damon that I will certainly treasure and got a picture with him and Abigail, the first place finisher for the women.

Thank you to Damon, his son, Damon, those who ran and all of the volunteers for an incredible day!

-h2

Bandera 100K, January 10th, 2009 - John Reynolds

2009-02-02T07:09:00.001-06:00

Pulling into the “Lodge” camping area at Hill Country State Natural Area (SNA) at 4:00 P.M. on Friday, I knew this race was going to be a little different than past Bandera races. There were significantly more campers lining the parking area than from the year prior and this was despite the fact that it was going to get significantly colder later that night. Everyone seemed to be oblivious to the future weather change as most were in shorts and short sleeve shorts. It was a beautiful January Texas evening and everyone was soaking it in.

My wife, Crystal, our two friends, Laurie and Matt, and I set-up our tents as quickly as we could while talking with many runners including my Team Traverse teammates, Brad Quinn, Josue Stephens, and Dalton Wilson, who were camping nearby. Texas’ legendary camaraderie is quite prevalent at Joe’s races and this one was no exception. With our campsite set-up we made our way over to the pre-race meal and trail brief.

The Race Director, Joe Prusaitis, and his assistant, Henry Hobbs, went through the course brief. Nothing unusual except we were told there was a slight deviation in the course that had to be rerouted due to last minute “park work”. We later found that a horse had broken its leg between two large rocks and had to be euthanized by a vet during the evening. Later it would be moved off the course and left for the coyotes and mountain lions. I’m sure Joe decided not to tell us all in case we took it as a sign of things to come. The meal was the standard spaghetti with meat sauce, salad and dessert but it satisfied and let everyone focus on race preparation.

Bandera is a 25K, 50K and 100K trail race that takes place in the Hill Country SNA. There is a 50K loop for the 50 and 100K’ers and a modified 25K loop that takes in most of the challenging parts of the 50K course. The terrain in Bandera is challenging. It is a very technical course with short, steep climbs, no switchbacks and in sections the trail consists of rocks piled on rocks. Runners come to this race for two reasons: the super nice people and the super nasty Texas hill country trail.

We were then off to the tents for bed. I slept like a rock until 2:00 A.M. when the wind started kicking up. Five good hours of sleep is still pretty good prior to a race, so I read and thought about my good fortune to be surrounded by great people and having the opportunity to participate in such a wonderful event.

5:30 A.M. did come quickly, and it was quite cold out. I think it was below freezing so I put on my race gear and layered up to try and stay warm. It took nearly an hour to get some coffee made so I was suddenly more in a hurry to get everything worked out of the system than I had planned. Thankfully I was able to get to the start in enough time to catch-up with some of my fellow runners and get some good pre-race shots. It was going to be a strong field this year. Some of the favorites were Josue Stephens, Steven Moore, Glenn Mackie, Jamie Cleveland, Peter Vrolijk and Scott Eppelman for the men and Melanie Fryar, Melissa Heggen and Bridget DeLarosa for the women. It would be an interesting day.

There are six sections on the course. Three of the sections are full of short steep climbs. There is a lot of loose limestone everywhere and many of the hills are punctuated with short drop offs. The other three sections consist of trails that meander through rolling savannah hills. Psychologically the easier sections are more difficult as there isn’t anything that can’t be run while the more physically challenging sections make it easy to determine when to back off and when not too.

Josue shot out of the starting line like a bullet with a number of us in tow. I knew to let Josue go as his style is to put as much time into everyone early. Despite this I still found myself going fairly fast. Within 5 or 10 miles I noticed I didn’t turn on my Garmin, so I really had no idea how fast I was going. It felt like it was getting colder as the wind picked up, and I was super stiff. I was having a lot of doubts about finishing this one as things were just not loosening up. So I decided I would back off and just have fun.

Stephen, Glenn, Scott, Peter and I played a lot of leapfrogging with each other as we each took turns at the lead. We never were too far from one another, and if you got passed you were certain to catch up at the next aid station. At one point when I was alone, I heard a group of wild boar in the wooded area adjacent to the trail. Thankfully they preferred to ignore me as they have a reputation of being aggressive when threatened, especially if there are young boars present.

After getting passed by Jamie and passing Josue who was having ankle trouble, I felt a lot better around mile 26 which was timely because I was about to hit Lucky Peak. Lucky, Cairns and Boyles are three nice climbs, evenly spaced that makeup the last 8 miles of the 31 mile loop. Lucky is probably the nastiest climb and descent on the course. It is nearly straight up and straight down with a lot of boulders and some washout on the descent that makes it particularly tricky. Cairns is a relatively mild climb and rewards you with a nice ridge to run on for a time. Boyles just seems to go on forever with continual hills that are steep enough you want to walk, but not so steep in most places that you can run.

It was great to get back to the Lodge to pick up my pacer, Pete Mehok, and get back out for round two. Pete is a fast, smart runner and I was counting on him to help me keep a constant pace. Turns out he wouldn’t disappoint. I grabbed peanut butter sandwiches and some Heed, and we headed out.

As we climbed the first big hill, Sky Island, Pete told me how he and 5 others were dispatched to help drag the dead horse out of the trail and dump it over the side of a cliff. Apparently pacing me 50 kilometers was easier than dragging that dead horse 15 meters.

Things were really starting to loosen up for me, and I finally realized I might have a good race after all. Pete was helping me keep an even pace. He provided just enough conversation to help keep my mind off the pain but not too much so as to lose focus.

On the other side of Sky Island you enter a much different world. It is a desert canyon land and the most prominent flora is sotol, a cactus like plant that has serrated edges, and in many parts of the trail is unavoidable. It was certainly much colder here and the wind was really picking up. Maybe that’s why the sotol felt even sharper than in the past. Maybe it was all in my head, but one look at my blood covered legs made me believe otherwise. The cuts are minute but they peppered my legs from my ankles to my shorts.

After climbing Ice Cream Hill the wind calmed down and it seemed to take a lot longer to get to the aid station than I had remembered. I had been feeling on the verge of cramping, so for the last 15 miles or so I had been taking a lot of salt. In fact, I was taking as much as I have when it was hot. Although Endurolytes are fairly light compared to others, I was taking 4 of them every hour or so. As a result I ran out of water this section and was really looking forward to the Nachos aid station. Nachos was a welcome sight, and you knew it was around the corner because they were blasting country music which seemed strangely appropriate after just running through a particularly beautiful if not Texas hill country canyon. Pete suggested I eat some banana, and I chugged some Heed and set off as quickly as possible.

The next relatively flat section seemed to go on forever. Pete helped me keep a steady, even pace, and we made relatively good time into Chapas. We had caught up to Peter Vrolijk and had passed Scott Epelman someplace during this section.

Coming out of Chapas, Pete advised me to hang on to Peter as best I could as he was known to have a very even, steady pace. I’m not sure if it was the wind or the rolling hills of this section, but I had a very hard time maintaining pace and I fell back coming into the Crossroads aid station.

Crossroads is aptly named as you hit this aid station twice on each 50K loop. This is the only aid station I had a drop bag at and more importantly, this is the aid station where my wife was volunteering. So it was a pleasure to see her and have her experience to help get me in and out efficiently. And in and out it was: down a Red Bull, get a Heed refill, grab a turkey sandwich and get out of there. As I walked out of the aid station eating my turkey sandwich Crystal informed me that Steven was just 3 minutes ahead. OK sounds great. Steven is a friend and I would love to catch him.

The next section, Three Sisters, is an out and back that takes you back into the canyon area of the park. You take a jeep road out for ½ mile and then drop down into a ravine. Then you work your way up a steep climb and out to a ridgeline full of sotol. On the climb I could see Peter Vrolijk working his way up and that gave me some strength to try and catch him. I was feeling a lack of strength in my quads on the descent into Crossroads. This would limit my ability to make time on the remaining down hill portions of the trail.

Back into Crossroads, another Red Bull, sandwich and Heed refill. Crystal handed me my flashlight, and I was out of there. As I was walking out, Crystal mentioned that Steve was just one minute ahead of me. I also noticed that Peter Vrolijk and Scott Eppelman were now just behind me. Pete was jazzed about the situation, and I agreed that we could reel Steven in.

I picked up the pace as best I could this next section to try and catch Steven. I knew I had about 3 miles of flat trail before I got to Lucky Peak. I was going as fast as I could while going just slow enough to prevent my quads and calves from locking up in a cramp. I could feel that I was in danger of cramping if I were to go any faster, so I held that pace. Even though it is relatively flat, I like this section as it meanders back and forth and is both shaded, which didn’t help that day, and protected from the wind, which did. Also, you know you are only one aid station from the end, so it is a psychological boost to your morale.

Up Lucky we went, and I was going slowly. I took this opportunity to eat several Endurolytes and the last bit of energy bar I would need until the end. My plan was to only consume a gel in the last section and spend zero time at the aid station. The descent off of Lucky sure was a lot more difficult to negotiate than the last time, but I managed to flow through it as efficiently as I could despite the lack of strength in my quads.

Heavy metal was blaring as we entered Last Chance aid station. Again, this seemed strangely appropriate at the time. I was pumped up now and ready to go. I heard my pacer, Pete, ask for a shot of Tequila, and I chugged down a glass of Heed and left without filling up my bottles or grabbing any food. My wife notified me that Steven was now 2 or 3 minutes ahead; despite my efforts to reel him in he had actually made time on me!

I was going strong now and wanted to run fast, but I kept reminding myself to run smart and not blow myself up 2 miles from the end. I guess the shot of Tequila did something to Pete because I was now having trouble keeping up with him, and he was running a good 30 yards ahead of me for the entire 5 mile section. This was good. I was running the flats hard and running most of the less steep up-hill sections. Cairns climb went by quickly and the flats on top of the ridge were enjoyable, but it seemed like it took forever to get up Boyles Bump. Fortunately I was able to run a good deal of the Boyles climb, and on the descent I started really picking up the pace.

I always seem to finish hard and this was no exception. It makes me wonder how much I may have left on the course. We cruised in to the valley where the Lodge and finish line were. I could see the race clock now and people were all cheering. Pete was yelling, “ride it in, feel the speed, oh yeah”! I crossed the finish in 10 hours and 36 minutes, third overall, just 2 minutes behind Steven. I never had to use my light, which really hit me as remarkable. This was probably my best race to date, and I am super happy with the finish.

Bandera is the quintessential Texas Hill Country race course. It is close to sea level and the climbs are not long, but they are steep and full of obstacles. The course has mixture of sun, shade, climbs and flats to keep it interesting the whole way. But the best feature is the people who make this race happen. The aid stations are comprised of seasoned ultra runners, the race management is top notch and atmosphere is warm and friendly.

If you have an opportunity to get down to Texas and are looking for a great race in January, I recommend giving Bandera 100k a try. You will get a good appreciation of the hill country and the Texas people that will keep you coming back for more.

Fuego y Agua 100k: The Journey

2009-01-07T19:59:00.000-06:00

Date: Saturday December 13, 2008
Location: Island of Ometepe, Nicaragua
Distance: 100K
Finish Time: 14:48

Encountering change can be very challenging. You are suddenly placed out of your comfort zone not really knowing what to expect, facing the unknown. Sometimes change brings incredible experiences and becomes a springboard for good things to follow. I was given the opportunity to embrace and immerse myself in another culture for a very brief time, but I planned on making the most of it.

Two weeks before my departure, my journey to Nicaragua would become 'real,' immediately after I received my shots for Hepatitis A&B and started taking oral medication for both Malaria and Typhoid Fever.

I felt pretty good about my training leading up to the race, as I had a few long runs and some solid sessions of hill repeats. I knew the course would very difficult due to the climbs up Maderas and Concepcion, the mix of rocky and muddy terrain and the possibility of hot and humid weather conditions.

Unfortunately, due to work, my visit to Nicaragua would be rather short. I drove to the San Antonio Airport on Thursday, the 11th. While waiting to board my flight from San Antonio to Houston, I found out that Roger and his wife, Dawn, would be on the same flights as me all the way to Managua, Nicaragua. There was a delay going to Houston, but it did not effect us catching our flight to Managua, as it was also delayed for more than an hour. Once we finally boarded in Houston, we sat on the runway for what seemed like another hour. Logistically, once I got into Managua, I was planning on taking a taxi down to San Jorge, stay the night and then catch the ferry over to Island of Ometepe in the morning. However, we did not arrive in Managua until 11:30 p.m.-much later than I anticipated.

After I got through customs in the Managua Airport, I had to figure out whether I just wanted to stay the night in Managua, or cab it down to San Jorge or another city closer to the coastline. Roger and Dawn were extremely generous in offering for me to stay with them in Managua for the night, however, out of respect, I was not going to inconvenience them in anyway. Initially I was going to stay the night, since we got in so late, but I decided to give it a go bargaining with the taxi drivers in the limited Spanish I know for a ride down to San Jorge or Rivas.

Josue, the race director of the race, teammate and good friend had told me not to accept any fee over $50. The first cab driver requested $80. I could not help but laugh and say no thanks. After a few other offers of $70 and $60, I finally met a guy who claimed he was related to Josue. I knew he was full of shit, but I figured I could possibly squeeze him down to $50. I eventually got him to agree to $50, but he asked other drivers if they would take me and no one was budging an inch. At this point, I just wanted a bed, but I wanted to experience an authentic Nicaraguan hotel. There was a Best Western right across the road from the terminal, but I told myself it was certainly not an option.

I jumped in a cab that took me to downtown, Managua. I made little conversation with the driver before we arrived at my destination. I got out of the car and was escorted up to an iron-gated entrance. I have to say that the hotel looked pretty sketchy, but I looked forward to the experience. The host unlocked the gate and let me in. I was welcomed by a few stray cats that scurried across my path leading up to the welcome desk. I signed in and asked how much it cost for the night. $10 for a bed and bathroom at "Hospedaje Santos!" Here is a brief description I found on the internet that is fairly accurate: "Sprawling, ramshackle hospedaje popular among travellers, with tons of atmosphere, funky art on the walls and an indoor patio with cable TV. Rooms, however, are dark and none too clean – try to get one upstairs, where ventilation is better. All have ceiling fan, and some come with private bath. $5-10."

The host took led me upstairs to my second floor room. He opened the door, turned on the lights and gave me the key. I was exhausted, but I first took inventory of the room: 2 twin beds with no sheets or pillow cases, a bathroom that was flooded which included a toilet and shower and a tiny, rusty sink off to the side. I brushed my teeth without using any water, took out my contacts, put a shirt over my pillow and sprawled out on the bed. After lying in bed for about 30 minutes I heard a noise in the distance that sounded like a gun shot. The noise repeated several times and seemed like it was getting closer and closer to my room. Sounds ridiculous, but I was contemplating moving the bed away from both the windows and the door. Dogs were constantly barking and even roosters were throwing out calls like the sun was coming up. Needless to say, I did not sleep much, but found out the next day, what I thought were gunshots were actually kids lighting fireworks(similar to m-80's) throwing them in the streets.

The sun came up and even though I got very little sleep, I was anxious to get to the island. I went downstairs and checked out, walked to what looked like a main street and flagged down a cab. The driver took me to the central bus terminal. Talk about chaos. All types of buses lined up, people scurried about, vendors and booths selling all kinds of goods, drinks, etc. Immediately upon arrival a man took my bag from the back seat of the cab. I told him that I needed an express bus to Rivas and he took off ahead of me with my bag on his shoulder. I quickly followed him and two other men. A quick 5 minute walk of dodging and weaving through people brought me to an old, yellow school bus. I boarded via the back exit where the man loaded my bag on the rack above my seat. He asked for a tip of $5. I thought this was ridiculous for the mere fact that he was demanding and rude. I wish I knew how to say, 'stop being a jackass or go eat shit' in Spanish. However, I had to remind myself of where I was, and faked my appreciation by paying, but I only had a $10 bill. Of course, he said he did not have change, but would get some. 10 minutes went by and he finally brought back change in cordobas, the national currency. The other 2 men that did absolutely nothing had the audacity to ask for a tip, as well. I will admit that this pissed me off. I love tipping people in the service industry, especially when they do a great job, but I was not about to pay anyone that did not earn it. I told them to share the tip I gave his friend. They were not too happy and that irritated me even more. Lesson learned: carry my own bag to wherever I need to go.

I sat on the bus and waited patiently for us to depart. During that time, vendors walked through the aisle selling all kinds of food and drink. I thought this was pretty cool. Promptly at 7:30 a.m. our bus departed from the terminal to Rivas. We made several stops along the way where people got on and off, including a variety of vendors. The numerous stops made for a long 2 1/2 hour bus ride crammed in a school bus, but it was more than worth the $2.00 cost to experience and see Nicaragua.

Once I arrived in Rivas I got a cab to San Jorge and got on the Ferry to the Island of Ometepe, which I could see in the distance. The active volcano of Concepcion(has not erupted since 1957) and the dormant volcano of Maderas were apparent, although clouds covered the upper fourth of each volcano. Lake Nicaragua was quite choppy due to the high winds, but I love the water and was really looking forward to getting on the boat. I went up to the third floor of the ferry where the sun was beaming so brightly I could feel I was closer to the equator. Once I go settled on the boat I met a man who moved from the U.S. to Costa Rica 4 years ago. We talked about travel, reasons why we were going to the island, public education and some politics. Anyone who knows me well knows I am not a fan of talking about politics or religion, but I enjoy listening to what other people have to say. We basically conversed for the hour trip over to the island.

I got off the ferry and had absolutely no idea where "Hostel Ibesa" was located. I figured I would walk around, explore and then eventually ask someone for directions. I walked up the main street of Moyogalpa and immediately saw a banner promoting the race, "Fuego y Agua." I met a woman, who was co-owner of the hostel and she graciously escorted me to the hostel a few blocks away. She gave me my key to my room. The room was tiny, but it was clean and it had the only thing I really needed: a bed.

I decided to walk around town, buy some bottled water and buy 2 postcards: one for my wife and the other to send to my little niece's school. They had a unit on the Gingerbread Man and the teacher asked anyone that traveled leading up to Christmas send a postcard from their respective location saying it was the Gingerbread Man and a brief note about their travels.

Once I returned from my mini-tour of Moyogalpa, I ran into TJ and met several other runners: Franco, Alex, Heather, Jose, Amy and Vicki. TJ and I decided to grab some Victoria's(one of the national beers of Nicaragua) from "Hotel y Restaurante Arenas Negras" and then went to "Restaurante Aly" for some grub to tie us over until the pre-race meeting and pasta dinner.

After our mid-afternoon/early evening snack, we walked back to the Hostel Ibesa for the pre-race meeting and dinner. I met Carlos Barrera, the owner of the hostel. He was very friendly and ended up being an incredible host. Before the pre-race meeting began, I also met other runners which included Richie and his wife, Tom, Loren, Armando and his wife and Theresa. I was honored to run with such a quality group of people, which included my teammates TJ and Brad and my friend, Roger.

Abi, Josue's sister, kicked off the pre-race meeting talking about the logistics. Josue continued the briefing and answered any questions. The chief of police of Moyogalpa stopped by to introduce himself and ensure the safety of all runners. I thought that was pretty cool. Then Josue translated the meeting from English to Spanish for the solid group of international runners. Countries that were represented included: U.S., Scotland, Italy, Nicaragua and Colombia. Immediately following the meeting we had an awesome pasta dinner. Once everyone finished their meal, the majority of runners went to bed. It was around 9:00p.m. and we had to wake up at 3:00 a.m. for a 4:00 a.m. start.

I slept fairly well, but 3:00a.m. came too quickly. I loaded up my Nathan Pack with gels, Succeed salt caps, a pair of extra socks, a bandanna, a disposable water-proof camera, some cordobas in case I needed water along the way and my headlamp. I decided I was going to try and use only gels as my primary fuel. I sported my Team Traverse visor and t-shirt, Patagonia shorts, Bolega socks and Vasque VST shoes. I filled up my bladder with water and then grabbed some breakfast. I was ready to go!

Typically I run for someone else in my mind and heart, or for a good cause. It brings me motivation and inspiration, especially during low points during a run. The majority of the time, no one knows about this source of motivation except me. It fits my personality best. A few weeks before leaving for Nicaragua I received an email from a parent of one of my former students. In her email she explained how she lost her son during infancy many years ago and wanted to do something special in memory of him. As a result, she came up with the unique idea of asking her friends and family to do one nice/generous thing for someone else. I was certainly touched and wanted to run Fuego y Agua in honor of Jaison.

Everyone casually lined up at the starting line. Josue started us just a little past 4:00 a.m. Both 100K and 50K runners were off. Richie and Jose took off like cannons compared to the rest of the group. I kept telling myself to be patient and run my own race. The first 30k of the race was relatively flat and the cool weather made it easy running. I knew it would potentially get very hot later on in the day, so I embraced the nice weather and stayed loose and relaxed. We passed several cattle, horses, stray dogs and heard Howler Monkeys. If you have never heard a Howler Monkey, just think about the combination of a hoarse large dog barking with the intensity of the roar of a lion. The first time I heard the noise, it certainly increased my heart rate.

It was interesting to see how many locals were out and about riding their bikes or walking so early in the morning before the sun had even risen. As I passed by each local I would say, "Hola!" The majority of locals positively reciprocated a response. Would this occur in the U.S.?

About 15k into the race I began gaining ground on Jose. As I moved up on him I realized he was not carrying water or food. I ran with him for a little bit, then handed him a gel before moving ahead. I came into the first aid station in Urbaite, which is around 18k. I filled up my bladder with more water, grabbed a banana and was on my way.

The next 10-12k to the El Porvenir aid station was pretty cool, with the exception of getting chased by one dog and almost bitten by another. Most of the stretch was along the coast of Lake Nicaragua. I received a nice breeze off the lake and just cruised along at a steady pace enjoying the atmosphere. There was one point where I had to stop and ask a local if I was going the right way. He was very friendly and pointed me in the right direction. I gave him 10 cordobas for his help. Second-guessing myself cost me a good 10 minutes and took me out of my rhythm.

Before I knew it, I came into the El Porvenir aid station, the 30k mark. I refueled and Amy passed me as she was very efficient coming in and going out of the aid station. I felt I was in good shape both mentally and physically-just shy of 2 1/2 hours had passed. I must say it was weird wearing a watch again, since I had not worn one since early August. I mainly wore the watch to make sure I was taking in enough salt and gels.

Now the run really got interesting: climbing the volcano of Maderas. It was time to go up to almost 1,300 meters, down into a crater and then back up to 1,400 meters before descending to the 50k mark, Hacienda Merida. Josue warned everyone that the terrain was technical and extremely muddy in some parts. Most runners had a pair of dry socks and shoes waiting for them at the bottom of Maderas-unfortunately, I was not that prepared.

The majority of the climb consisted of a combination of power-walking and jogging through mid-shin deep mud and finding a creative way of moving upward. There were several places where I had to actually use trees and branches to propel myself upward to make progress. It was like a jungle-gym and all I could think was, 'Josue definitely created this course.' Most of the way up Maderas, Amy and I leapfrogged each other, but before the climbing got difficult, yet fun, we swapped cameras and each took a picture with Concepcion in the background. It was an awesome shot, but my crappy disposable did not capture much. The lighting was awful. Hopefully, Amy got a good picture out of it. This ended up being the only picture I took while running, and while immediately after the run I was disappointed I did not take more, once I got my pictures developed and saw the poor quality, I did not feel so bad.

The descent was just as difficult as the ascent. The mud and steepness made for many tricky moves: jumping into mud-holes, swinging from branches and sliding down patches of slick mud on my ass. It may sound crazy, but it was fun and I felt like a kid. I reached the bottom injury-free and felt like it was a huge victory.

At this point in the race it was getting hot and the sun was giving me the middle finger. For about the next 3 hours the heat would get the best of me. In addition, gels were not cutting it and I started to have stomach issues.

About a mile from the 50k aid station, Hacienda Merida, I was cruising along through single track that included rocks and roots. The overgrown brush blocked my view from seeing where my foot would land next. All of a sudden, I landed on the outside of my foot and my ankle rolled outward. Simultaneously, I heard a loud crack and thought I fractured my ankle. For a brief moment I faced my biggest nightmare: getting injured to the point of getting a DNF. The next few strides were painful, but I kept moving, so I knew it was nothing too serious. Apparently, as I rolled my ankle I split a root or branch on the ground. I was thankful nothing serious happened and strolled into the Hacienda Merida aid station, where Amy was already off to tackle the second half of the course.

I wanted to put on a new pair of socks and refuel. My shoes were a mess, but I figured that new socks would at least bring some short-term life to my feet. I threw on my socks and then tried to open my bladder. I could not twist it open. After struggling for a few minutes I asked a gentleman, who seemed very friendly, if he could try, but he was unsuccessful, as well. He gave the bladder to two of his friends and asked them to go to the tool shed and try to open it. About 5 minutes later they returned with the cap twisted off. I was very appreciative. I drank a large amount of water before I began to head out of the aid station. I asked the gentleman where I should exit out of the aid station. As he told me I must have been off in my own little world. I ran out the way I came in and thought I was going in the wrong direction. I asked a lady and she pointed me back towards Maderas. I thanked her and ran about 200 yards before skepticism crept into my head. I turned back and started running towards the lady back into the aid station. She must have thought I was crazy. I ran back into the aid station for clarification from the gentleman and then was on my way-in the right direction. As I left, Armando came into the aid station.

From Hacienda Merida to Altagracia was pretty tough. There was a point where I needed water desperately. I stopped at a pulperia(a beverage stand) and got two 1.5 liter bottles of water. I filled up my bladder and still had a bottle and half of water. I ran with one in my left hand w with the other cradled like a football in my right. I must have looked ridiculous, but I did not care. Despite the relatively flat terrain, the heat was taking a toll on me. I stopped once to put my head in the lake to cool down my body temp. That felt great for about 15 minutes.

At almost 70k, I came into the town of Altagracia, where I refueled at the aid station. Armando, a runner from Colombia, had caught me and we ran together for the next 10K+. Even though we did not not talk much, running with Armando brought positive energy. About 5k into the run we missed a left turn. We ran about an extra half mile before getting close to the lake and realized we missed a turn. We went back in the direction we came from and ran into a local. Armando asked for directions to get us back on course. I could see frustration on Armando's face and he just mirrored how I felt, as well. There was another pulperia and Armando and I shared a coke. I was hoping the coke would settle my stomach because it was really starting to bother me. We drank some coke, I gave the native some cordobas for his help and we were on our way.

Armando and I came into the La Flor aid station, did not waste much time and started the trek up the volcano of Concepcion. I should have stopped to eat more, but my stomach was telling me otehrwise. As we left the aid station I started to envision the finish line: climb up Concepcion, come back down and then head back to Moyogalpa.

Unfortunately, about a mile from La Flor I decided I had to stop and take care of my stomach. Armando moved ahead while I was in the brush for a solid 10 minutes. So much for gels. My stomach apparently does not like them and they really don't supply enough calories for me. Although my stomach felt better and I lost about 5 pounds, I had no energy and needed calories. There was no way I was eating another gel-lesson learned. I had to dig deep, as I climbed Concepcion. About 3/4 to the 1,000 meter turn around Armando came barreling down. He was looking strong. Then I saw Amy come down and asked her how much further until the turn-around. She said only about 5 minutes. I got a very short charge of energy knowing I was almost there.

Once I got to the turn around, I looked out from 1,000 meters-what an awesome view! The gentleman gave me my bracelet, which was given at every aid station, I filled up on water and headed down the volcano. I felt like garbage, but knew the finish was in sight. Once I got down the mountain I knew I needed to take a left off the main trail. I started to second guess myself and thought I missed the turn. At this point Heather and TJ were about to make the trek up Concepcion. I asked if they knew where the turn-off was, but they said they did not see it. We looked at the map, but I was still skeptical. I made the poor choice of going back up the volcano. About a 1/3 of the way up, and still not seeing a turn-off I barreled back down the mountain. I passed by Franco, Alex, Tom and Theresa. I finally got to the bottom, continued past the point of where I doubted myself, and sure enough, there was the left turn. I was kicking myself, as I lost a substantial amount of time.

Once I got going on the flats I ran into Brad. He mentioned he was looking for the way up to Concepcion. I told him I was lost myself and was not the best person to answer that question. Thankfully, I believe he had a local get him back on course and he finished strong.

The sun went down and the glow sticks marking the route were very sparse due to kids taking them down as their new toy. I even caught one in the act. I knew it was going to be a struggle to get back to Moyogalpa. There were 2-3 intersections where I had to ask the locals for directions. Eventually, a man riding a bike said he would show me the way back to Moyogalpa. I ran and power-walked next to him as he rode. When he went no further I gave him the remaining amount of cordobas I brought with me-he definitely deserved it for his help.

At one point, about 3 miles from the finish, a guy came up on his motorcycle asking me if I wanted a ride. I explained the best I could that I was in a race and that would be considered cheating. He responded by saying he would keep it between me and him. I laughed, said no thanks and continued on.

Once I saw the lights of the town of Moyogalpa I started to pick up the pace. I ran into town and crossed the finish line-what an incredible experience! After a quick snap shot, I congratulated Richie and Amy. They had incredible races, as did Armando, whom I congratulated later in the evening. I showered quickly, as I wanted to see other runners come in.

TJ crossed the finish line. I told him I would run down the street to get us some beers. I brought back a big bottle of Victoria for each of us. We enjoyed our beers and got to see the rest of the field finish. Later in the evening Josue and Paula brought back pizzas. I wolfed down 2 of them-they hit the spot! A group of us talked about waking up early around 7:00 to go to "Ojo de Agua." If I was going to wake up that early I was going to hit the sack.

Sunday morning a group of us went to breakfast at "Pizzeria de los Ranchitos." We ate a hearty meal and then caught a van to "Ojo de Agua." What a place! It is basically a secluded fresh water springs that supposedly has healing and anti-aging powers. I call bullshit, regardless it is an awesome place. I took a few pictures that, unfortuantely, did not turn out well. From there we walked to "Villa de Paraiso" for lunch. It overlooked Lake Nicaragua and had a great seafood selection. I had a huge fish that must have been 16 inches long-it was pretty tasty. Immediately after lunch, TJ, Tom, Theresa and I had to get a cab back to the Hostel, so we could catch the last ferry back to the mainland.

Tom, Theresa, TJ and I took the ferry, took a cab to Masaya and were unsuccessful finding a souvenir shop that was open. TJ, Theresa and I went to a taqueria for dinner and gobbled down a plate of 25 soft tacos and washed it down with some micheladas. The micheladas had ice in them and once I returned to the U.S. I was on Cipro. After dinner we went to the liquor store and bought a bottle of Nicaraguan rum. We turned in for the night and stayed at the "Regis Hotel."

We had an early wake up of around 4:00 a.m., took a taxi to the airport and waited in a very long line to get our bags checked. To save you from the heartache of details getting home, let's just say it was a very long day of traveling. We were scheduled to get into San Antonio at 3:00 p.m. and did not get in until 7:00 at which point my bags never showed. I did not get back to Austin until 9:30. Anyone that knows me well, knows my past track record with flying and how it always becomes an interesting journey to get to and from my destination.

This was certainly an experience full of change, unknowns and challenges-one that has given me confidence moving forward!

I want to thank Josue for a great job directing the race! In addition, making it possible for me to get down there for this most memorable experience! Thanks to my wife, family and friends, "The Chameleon", Team Traverse and my teammates, the awesome volunteers, our host Carlos and his wife, all the great runners/people I met and the natives of Nicaragua that kept me on course!

-H2

Fuego y Agua Report

2009-01-05T20:38:00.001-06:00

For those who just want to look at the pictures, they are here. :)

Recently I ran the inaugural Fuego y Agua 100K ultramarathon on la Isla de Ometepe, Nicaragua. It was a very challenging race mentally and physically. I limped into the race under-trained, as I have not been able to train on hills the way I wanted to due to my Achilles problems that have been nagging me since July when I ran TRT100. This race consists of two primary climbs up the Maderas and Concepcion volcanoes, 1500 and 1000 meters, respectively. It's safe to say I was ready for the distance, but not those hills.

When I arrived in Nicaragua last Tuesday, it was very hot and humid, and I immediately knew that this was going to be a tough race in the heat. Fortunately, the temperature was slightly cooler on race day, but was still about 85 degrees in the sun.

The race started at 4am in the town of Moyogalpa, at the hostel where I was staying with several other runners. When the gun went off at 4am, we began our journey. The race started by circling through the town before working its way to a dirt road, the beginning of our traverse around the island. I settled into a good pace, but still comfortable at the beginning, and visited with Roger for a while. He is also from Austin, and was running the 50K. After a few kilometers, I decided to make my way ahead a bit. The temperature was cool, and I wanted to take as much advantage of it as possible, because I assumed it would likely get close to 90 degrees during the day.

After about 5 kilometers, I caught up with Heather, a runner from Maine who was running her first 100K. She was running a very good pace for me, so we quickly introduced ourselves and decided to run together for a bit. At this point, we were coming off of the dirt road and onto the paved road around the western side of Volcan Concepcion. The road had some rolling hills, nothing big but not tiny either. During the up hills I let her go ahead a bit, and quickly caught up on the downhills. I could tell this was going to be a long day on the up hills, as my legs just aren't strong enough this season.

Soon we rolled into the first aid station at 18km, and I was feeling great. I had some bananas and grabbed a gel. I had finished my water bottle, but realized I had not drank any from my camelback. That was a wasted 70oz on my back for 18km which is not a great way to save my legs for the upcoming climbs. I dumped a little of the water, but not too much, and we took off towards Maderas. As we crossed the isthmus to the Maderas side of the island, I could feel it starting to heat up. I backed off the pace to make sure I would be strong on Maderas, but I really had no clue what that climb was going to be like. Before long, we rolled into the 30k aid station in about 2:50. At this point I put on some insect repellant, ate some food, and drank some jugo de naranja. I felt really good, ready to power walk up the 1500m volcano, or so I thought.

As we started up the hill, it was not steep and I approached it pretty aggressively. Soon, however, it got steeper and I could see that I wasn't going to keep up with Heather. I was surprised, I thought I would climb well because, although I don't run up hills well, I can usually power walk well. This hill, though, was steeper than what I was used to. In hindsight, I hadn't even begun the tougher sections. So she went ahead, and I focused on my breathing and keeping a consistent pace.

At about 1:30 into the climb, and about 2/3 of the way up, I hit a wall. The climb was so steep that every single step was making my quads burn and my heart rate skyrocket. I was not trained for this, and my heavier frame doesn't do well on these hills. I got to the point that I would stop every 30 seconds and lean against a tree and catch my breath. I kept wondering when the field would pass me by, yet no one had come up from behind yet. I tried to remain focused on my own race, and just kept moving. At this point, the trail went from muddy to a complete mess. I was high-stepping up 3 foot muddy rocks, and steep slippery slopes that required me to hold on to roots with my hands. I was now 2 hours into the climb, and my engineering mind took over. I was going 1mph, maximum. This climb was 10k, so that means this would take 6 hours!?! Something doesn't make sense, no one could do this for 6 hours. Fortunetely, I was just too exhausted to think straight. At the beginning of the hill, I was running/walking at a good pace and did much of the 10km, so I was much closer to the top than I realized. At about 2:15 into the climb, with my legs burning and my heart out of control, I peaked the volcano crater, and began the descent into the crater. To my surprise, I also came up on the leader of the 50K race, who was moving even slower than me. He also was hurting and we were both too exhausted to talk. I just said 'muy dificil' and continued. Adreneline kicked in, and I began the descent very quickly to the lagoon in the crater, where the next aid station would be set up.

When I got there, they were just setting up. The field of runners was much faster than everyone expected, and so I was the first to actually receive aid. Everyone in front of me had to continue on without refueling. I had the tastiest tamale and a banana, snapped a few pictures of the lagoon, and began my ascent out of the crater. At this point I thought the climbing was over and it was all downhill, little did I know what lied ahead on the ledge of the crater... After an exhaustive climb up to the ledge, I was in the midst of a muddy, messy jungle. The trail was almost non-exhistent because the brush was so thick. At first glance it looked safe, but if you looked carefully through the brush you could see that the ledge was narrow and there were steep muddy drop-offs on both sides. I'm not a fan of heights, so I took my steps carefully in this area. It took about 20 minutes, but soon I was descending off of the volcano. The path down was muddier and steeper than the path up, and it was impossible to run. In fact, I got a great upper body workout dangling from trees and lowering my body down 7 and 8ft drops. Several times I found myself literally crawling under trees or sitting on my butt and sliding down the mud. I was having a blast! This was the most fun I've has 'running' in a very long time.

After about 45 minutes, the trail dried up a bit and leveled off, so I started to run to the base of Maderas. I still had to be very careful not to slide off of the trail, but at least I was able to run. Twice I slid off the trail and slammed my shin into a root. It was swollen and bleeding, and I had to remind myself to slow down because an injury up here would be almost impossible to treat, or to get me off of the mountain. Of course, as I dropped elevation, it was also getting hot. In fact, by the time I reached the bottom it was about 85C and I was sweating quite a bit. The good news was that I was approaching the Hacienda Merida aid station, the halfway point in the race.

I knew my shoes and socks would be a mess after Maderas, so I planned to change my shoes at this point. If I changed here, I knew blisters would not be a problem. But, lo and behond, when I got to the aid station my drop bag was not there. One thing I've learned doing long distance running is that you can NEVER focus on the negative, always keep moving forward. So, I made due with cleaning off my socks and shoes in some running water, put them back on, and took off again. I knew it wasn't ideal, and most likely I would deal with blisters over the next 50K, but I've been through much worse and there wasn't anything I could do about it now. I also found Heather at the 50K point, she was cleaning off and getting ready to go back out. I was happy to see she was going to continue, and we decided to leave together for the next aid station. It was definitely nice to have the company, but I also knew that it was hot and there was a good chance my next 30K would be slow.

Sure enough, I was right. We ran about 5 kilometers together but clearly I couldn't keep up. I'm quick to admit when I can't keep up, mostly because I don't want to get sucked into a pace that that risks my overall goals for the race. So I let her go for a second time, figuring that this time I would not see her again.

I struggled on for the next 25K in the heat. I was not adjusting well, I could barely manage a slow jog. Each time I tried to pick up the pace, my heart rate would shoot through the roof and I got nauseous. The only way I could stay cool was to stop at a Pulperia every 10 minutes, buy some cold water, and dump it on my head. It led some some pretty confused looks from the locals. A stupid American running around the island, stopping at the local stores, clumsily asking "tienes agua fria" then instead of drinking it, dumping it on his head and neck. But it worked, and once a few clouds came in to block the sun, I found myself running again. In fact, as I approached the aid station at Altagracia, I was moving well. In the town, there were many children out cheering (or laughing?). Some would come up next to me and run with an exxagerated form, I'm not sure if they were mocking us or not, but I wouldn't blame them if they were. As they would drop off, I would say "Vamos" and they always laughed. When I finally reached the aid station, I was surprised to find Heather again. Looks like I would have a running partner again, which would be nice after the long lonely miles I had just completed.

We left together for the final push before Concepcion. I was feeling quite good, but also cautious since my quads were like jello and I still had a 1000 meter climb straight up a volcano. It was still warm, but not hot like before. The dirt track was mostly rolling hills, unlike a lot of the flats I had been doing. These hills took their toll, and we did a lot of walking on the rolling uphills. I wanted to run, but just didn't have it in me. Or, even when I could, I kept thinking about the climb ahead and how I would need every ounce of energy I could get. These miles went fast, though, and before I knew it we were at 75km and the base of Concepcion.

At the aid station i had some watermelon, drank a ton of water, and changed out my socks. I felt some adreneline now, because I could sense the finish. There was still some hard work ahead, but once I left that aid station I knew nothing could stop me now. I also knew that we left the aid station with 5 others just coming in. I run to push myself not to race others, but we're all a little competetive or we wouldn't be out there, and in this case I didn't just want to let 5 people run right past me.... Not that there was much I could do to stop it on that volcano, because as soon as I hit the steep areas I could barely move forward. For those that hven't run this race, let me be clear about these volcanoes. They are real mountains, and there are no switchbacks. Were are ascending at an extremely steep and unrelenting angle. Once you've redlined, there is no pace you can recover. The key is not to redline, unfortunately I learned this the hard way.

About 1:45 into the climb, I was perched against a tree trying to hold in what little food I had in my stomach. I could have quit right there. I had no clue how much farther the climb was and I was worried about how I would get off the volcano in the dark without getting lost. I couldn't take more than 10 steps without getting sick. In the past 10 minutes, I had seen 5 runners pass me by and they all looked much stronger than me. I was completely broken. At this point Peter, one of the volunteers, came zipping up te hill hanging glowsticks. I asked how much farther and he said not much. I was desperate, so I asked him to quantify and he said "definitely more than half way." I almost sat down and quit right there, and if there was an easy way to do that I would have, but I had to keep going at this point or I'd never get home. Then, as he was almost out of earshot he screamed back that we were almost at the top, just a few miinutes away. It was te encouragement I needed, and I felt a little energy rush through my body. I started moving again. Still slow, but the positive attitude goes a long way.

Before I reached the top, I watched several people descending. They were a good 10 minutes in front of me. I didn't want any more bananas or gels, so I asked Peter what else he had. He gave me some Tuna, and it was like heaven in a vacuum sealed bag. I ate almost all of it, and felt re-energized. I zipped down the hill immediately passing 2 of the guys in front of me. I kept going at a slightly dangerous pace in the dark, and before long I found 3 more runners. I spent a little time with them, but I felt too good to slow down. In a race like this, I've found that it's important to run hard when you feel good, because you never know when the tides will turn. And so I ran.

I was now 5 kilometers from the finish and getting on the main road. It was a straight shot back to Moyogalpo and the finish line. I ran most of it, got lost a little, and even got a motorcycle escort for the end. It was a cool way to finish, running through Moyogalpo. There were people all over, but I'm not sure any of them had a clue that I was running a race. I just smiles, said "hola", and kept going.

Finishing the race at Hostel Ibesa felt great. A bunch of runners and volunteers were around at the finish line to cheer me in. I was happy to see them.

The best part of this experience wasn't the race, it was the experience of traveling to a foreign land, meeting runners from all over the globe and spending a week with them, and then having the opportunity to share the run (and the island) with them for a day. I look forward to running more international runs in the future, and I hope to see these guys again. I had an amazing time on this trip, and I can't wait to do it again someday. I would recommend it to everyone, but I will also warn them that the race is not for the faint of heart. You can not over prepare for the heat and hills of this race.

Ultramaraton Fuego y Agua 2008 - Director Race Report - Race Day

2008-12-26T17:36:00.000-06:00

Wow, where to start! It took me several days since the race to even begin this report, and I am still not sure exactly how to blog all of the events surrounding the event without writing the equivalent of a novel.

Ultramaraton Fuego y Agua 2008 is an experience I will never forget, for a first time Race Director, I would say the whole thing was fairly suicidal. The logistics were absolutely insane, the money was just not there, and getting anything done on schedule is an impossibility on Isla de Ometepe, or Nicaragua for that matter. Yet somehow, I would not trade this experience for anything and am looking forward to Fuego y Agua 2009, 2010, 2011 and more....

Many things happened last minute, some worth laughing about, some worth bawling about. All in all it was a successfull event where everyone left with a sense of accomplishment.
Course control and logistics were a severe issue this year, I had to take out long sections of beach due to flooding on the lake.

Race day came fast and I woke with only around 45 minutes of sleep, It was already a warm morning and I was glad the runners were starting at 4 a.m., this gave them an opportunity to beat the heat before their long ascent up Volcan Maderas. I sent out two volunteers on motorcycle to hang glowsticks for the first part of the course and the runners began to gather on the start line. The race began at Hostel IBESA in the town of Moyogalpa on the Concepcion side of the island. The island is separated by two sides, Concepcion and Maderas.
There were 22 runners, both 50k and 100k. The race felt very small yet there was a lot of tension and excitement on the start line. Along with several runners from the US, including a handful from Texas, we had runners from Scotland, Colombia, Italy and Nicaragua. One of the Nica runners was from the island, this would be his first ascent up Volcan Maderas and his first ultramathon.
I counted down and the runners were off into the darkness. Carlos from IBESA rode ahead of them on his motorcycle honking his horn incessantly. Abigail and the volunteers left for the first aid station and all of a sudden the start line was very quiet. This is one of the interesting parts of being a race director as opposed to being a runner or volunteer. There were quiet points in the race where I just had to wait at the start line to answer calls and make decisions. What I really wanted to do the entire time was to be out running or working the course and aid stations.

The aid station setups seemed to be going well, Abigail had everything under control, we had not heard from Ebelio and Josh, but hoped they would make it up to the Maderas crater to setup before the runners arrived up there. Danilo (Carlos' other brother) left for the Volcan Concepcion summit with a mule loaded with supplies. His aid station was the last one on the 100k course and he had plenty of time to get up there to set up. Cell phones were not fully reliable on the island but that was our only method of communication.

The Aid Stations were as follows, IBESA Start - Urbaite - El Porvenir - Maderas Crater - Hacienda Merida (50k finish) - Altagracia - La Flor - IBESA Finish

The kid's 5k and 10k were starting at 9:00 a.m. so Paula and I took advantage of the quiet time to catnap on the hammock. The children began arriving at 8:00 and we started putting wristbands and numbers on them. Carlos also arranged to have a DJ and all of a sudden the place got very loud. It was 8:30 in the morning and the place was blasting techno music like a Euro nightclub. Once the kids got their numbers, we sent them down to the IBESA office to get fitted for a pair of shoes. We had over 125 pairs of used running shoes donated by runners and a group out of Boulder, CO. Almost all of the children running the race were able to get a pair of shoes. 9:00 rolled around, but we were told not to start the race because there was one more village sending kids out and they had not arrived. By this time the place had become a madhouse. We had an aid station setup with food and drinks, but the kids wanted to ravage it before the run.
In the midst of the madness Abigail pulled up to pick up more supplies and volunteers but was not able to get out because of the massive crowd blocking the truck. Kids were climbing into the back of the truck and eating aid station food, the DJ continued to blast techno, and I slammed Nescafes like they were going out of style.

We got a frantic call from Hacienda Merida Aid Station (50k split and downside of Volcan Maderas climb) that the ultra runners were coming through much faster than expected. We also heard that the first 8 runners had passed Ebelio and Josh on the way to the Maderas Crater and had missed aid. This meand they would go without aid for 20 kilometers on the hardest section of the course. We already had runners headed to the next aid station, Altagracia, and it had not been set up yet, so we did everything we could to get Abigail and the aid station truck out and on the way to Altagracia. She caught up to the lead runner, Richard Cunningham of Scotland, and gave him aid on the side of the road before he reached Altagracia. He'd missed aid at the Volcan Maderas and Hacienda Merida Aid Stations and had run about 28 miles with no aid. Abigail set up the Altagracia Aid Station, dropped off her volunteers and headed over to set up the Station at La Flor (at the base of the second volcano climb, Volcan Concepcion).

In the meantime, the kids from the village that were supposed to show up never came and we began the 5k and 10k kids races. The course had been set up to wind through the town of Moyogalpa with a small out and back on the main highway. Kids finished in record times and we began to suspect there might be some cheating involved. Sure enough, Paula and I were swamped by kids each claiming that the other cheated and jumped on a bicycle or motorcycle. I listened to their stories as best as possible, but was forced to decide based only on the information I could gather from asking questions. The 10k event had two top prizes, 1st Female and 1st Male finisher, the 5k had 1st Overall finisher. The three top prizes were brand new mountain bikes purchased there on the island. Even with all of the fuss and discussion, the children seemed very happy with the event, we fed them and announced the Awards Ceremony for the next afternoon.

At this point we began to receive calls that the runners were getting lost on the Concepcion side of the course between kilometers 60-80. We also got notice that the lead runner, apparently still Richard Cunningham, was climbing Concepcion and was only about 20k from the finish line. I did not expect any runners to finish the course at this speed. Either I had overestimated the difficulty of the course, or I had severely undersestimated the ability of the runners. The weather was much cooler than is normal for this time of year, it was in the mid 80s instead of mid 90s.
I tried to get in touch with Carlos and other course control volunteers, but was not able to get in touch with them. Abigail also called me and let me know she was not able to find the La Flor aid station location. Apparently she had been driving on non-passable roads with the truck and was lost. We were frantic to get the aid station set up before another runner came by (poor Richie Cunningham was basically running on nothing at this point and still killing the course).
Although it was against all of the race director advice I had received, Paula and I made a last minute decision to go fix this section of course where all of the runners were getting lost. We also thought we could find Abigail to guide her on to La Flor.
We jumped on the motorcycle and rode the rough bumpy dirt roads until we reached La Flor. We saw Abigail's aid truck pulled up at the Volcan Concepcion trailhead. She told us she was going to set up Aid here since she could not find the proper aid station location. At this point Amy Sproston, (2nd place at this time) an ultrarunner from Washington DC came running up on the main dirt road, (not on the course). She told us she had tried to take the course but had not found flagging and was lost for a good while. I told her to continue the course up the volcano and not to worry about her missing the course turns. At this point she had probably put more miles on by being lost than if she had been on the small section of course she missed. She seemed hesitant, but got aid and headed up Volcan Concepcion.
Paula and I continued on the course to flag the missing sections. We saw children in the villages wearing flagging on their heads as headbands, we also saw flagging on the ground and knew what was happening. The locals were tearing down the flagging all over the course. We drove the course and flagged it as fast as we could. Once we were back on the main road we several runners and told them to watch for the tricky intersections. (Apparently most of them never saw the flagging we hung, it was torn down minutes after we put it up).
We drove out to Altagracia and got a call that Richie Cunningham was still winning and would be at the finish line within 45 minutes. We hauled out and made good time to Altagracia, arriving in IBESA only 10 minutes before he did. He finished in 1st place at 3:45 pm, in only 11 hours and 45 minutes! This blew my predictions out of the water.
It was around this time (4:30pm or so) that we got a call that there was one runner unaccounted for. Jacqueline Castro of Colombia had not been seen since 11:45 in Hacienda Merida and should have arrived at the Altagracia Aid Station hours ago. Carlos was out delivering food to the La Flor Aid Station, all of the other volunteers were working aid stations or hanging glowsticks on Volcan Concepcion. By this time Arturo Rodriguez of Colombia had come in 2nd place and was extremely concerned about his wife Jacqueline. We reported the incident to the Captain of police thinking he would send out a search party, but he told me to head out for a preliminary search on the roads near Merida. If I could not find her, he said he would call the military to begin an official search and rescue. As a race director, I do not think I could have felt more worried and freaked out than I did at that moment. Runners were getting lost, and now we even had someone missing, even possibly injured.
On top of all of that, I had ordered 25 fresh pizzas from Finca Zopilote (a small Italian permaculture farm) for the runners and. Finca Zopilote was located on the other side of the island, near Merida, and there was no one at the start/finish to go pick them up. I handed the timing spreadsheet to Yalkiria (Carlos wife) and headed out with Paula one more time to search for Jacqueline and to pick up the pizzas.
We searched for Jacqueline for awhile but did not see her. I called Carlos and reported that we were not able to find her, but the signal was spotty and I kept dropping the call. We quickly ran up to Finca Zopilote to get the pizzas and tried to head back toward some better cell service. The pizzas were in a box and strapped onto the back of the motorycle with rope. The roads we were riding in the dark were extremely rough and my exhaustion began to take a hold of me. I am experienced on a motorcycle, so I am not sure what happened, but I laid the bike over twice. The second time it landed on my ankle and the accelerator got stuck on a rock. The back wheel was spinning and the bike seemed like it was about to wind out, but my ankle was pinned and I could not get out. Paula was able to get loose and helped me raise the bike up off of my ankle. I could tell my ankle was pretty hurt, but there was nothing to do at that point but continue searching for Jacqueline and to head back to the start/finish. We rode very slowly and carefully back to the main road where we could get clear cell reception. I got a call from Carlos that they had found Jacqueline, she had taken a bus back hours ago and had been sleeping in her room after showering. I was also told six runners were lost and that I needed to get back to the start/finish ASAP. Needless to say, we hightailed it back to Moyogalpa once again. The bugs were so bad, Paula had to half cover my eyes to keep them from getting into my eyes as I drove. We had a near encounter with a horse, a cow and a harrassing policeman, but we finally made it back to IBESA. Once back at IBESA we found everyone had finished and there were no lost runners, just some very hungry tired people. Paula and I did not even bother to explain our experience on the motorcycle and handed the still intact and warm pizzas out. Some of the runners were so hungry they wolfed one pizza down and tucked another under their arm on the way to bed.
I heard lots of things from the runners, advice, criticism and even praise and awe for the course. After about an hour or so, most of the runners headed off to bed and Paula and I did the same.

Overall the race was a wonderful success. Thanks to all of the volunteers who worked extremely hard to make this work. To mention a few: Abigail worked nonstop and overcame some very ridiculous and hilarious circumstances to make sure there were Aid Stations. Carlos and his wife Yalkiria looked like they had not slept in a week, poor Yalkiria was popping some unknown energy pills the entire time. Josh Barnwell and Ebelio climbed Volcan Maderas with only two hours of sleep hauling over 100lbs of food up the insane trail into the crater. Danilo spent 16 hours on Volcan Concepcion managing an Aid Station alone then hauled everything down on his back. My wonderful girlfriend, Paula, was extremely helpful in keeping everything organized (includeing my brain) and in managing the children during the kid's race. I did not know how badly her leg was hurt during the motorcycle accident until after the race, she kept it from me because she did not want me to worry about it.

Thank you to:
-Hammer Nutrition for providing Heed, Hammer Gel and Endurolytes for the event.
-Moeben for providing sleeves for the event
-Mackinaw's Grill and Bar (Kevin Quinn), for their generous contribution
-Traverse Trail Running, Brad Quinn, Thomas Quinn and family, for their incredible support of the entire event
-Nomadic Design Studio, Robert Heynen, for donating his time to build the Fuego y Agua website
-Michael Sandrock, author of "Running with the Legends," for sending 100 pairs of running shoes for the children of Ometepe.
-Team Traverse members, for supporting the race with their presence and participation.
-All other contributors and supporters of this event, all of those who could not make it but wished they could.

The proceeds from the 2008 event went to Natural Doctors International (NDI). They plan using the funds to build a childrens park in front of the free clinic in the village of Los Angeles, Isla de Ometepe.

Joe Prusaitis- 2008 Cactus Rose 100 Report

2008-11-12T14:50:00.000-06:00

On Nov 1st, near Bandera Texas, in the Hill Country State Natural Area, at 5am, 48 veteran trail runners began the 2nd annual Cactus Rose 100 mile endurance trail run. They had 36 hours to complete four 25 mile loops, and after each loop, they had to reverse directions. At first glance, this reversal of directions seems to cause problems, but in reality, this allows every runner to have a look at their competition and their friends, to help us find out quickly if anybody is having a problem, and also for the enlightenment of running the same trail in opposite directions. Two other circumstances also provided some entertainment: It was Halloween weekend and Daylight Savings time ended during the run. At 2am, it suddenly became 1am.

The land in this park is simultaneously, beautiful and difficult, which is what inspired the name: Cactus Rose - "Where Pain accompanies Beauty". The local cowboys tell me that everything here stings, scratches, or bites. First off, this race is not at all ( as I have heard) like Barkley. And I do know the difference. I have had my butt kicked at Barkley a few times. I have been there and this is not at all like it. This is a Full Blown 100 mile trail race with everything all the other 100s have , except Food. We provide aid stations, Patagonia shirts, finisher buckles, water, ice, medical, chip timing, constant support, turn signs, glow sticks, confidence markers, hand made metal roses for the top 3 winners, odd awards for many others, and the best damned butt kicking you might find anywhere in this country. We simply don't put any food on the tables or volunteers to hand it out. We expect the runners to put their own food at the stations and we even help them in doing so. The aid stations are large tents that we put up, with tables, and water. We put a notepad and pen with watch at each station and the runners are expected to put their own times in each station. At the end loop of each 25 miles is a timing matt where we track each 25 mile split.

There is no hand holding or coddling, but we do mark the hell out the route so that you can find your way without map (we do provide waterproof maps to each runner). What we have created is a format for experienced trail runners who want a good test, but prefer to manage their own nutritional needs. Some of the runner's crews typically set up near the main aid stations and are constantly helping all the runners with some hot food or cold melons. Granted, I promise no food, but so far, somebody's crew is sharing what they have. With no promises, its surprising how much support all the runners do for each other. It has been an incredible bonding experience. So far, the typical after race statement has been, " I severely underestimated the difficulty of this course", followed by, "I love it - please dont change a thing".

Most of the runners camp at the race site, and there were more crew than there were runners, such that may of the runners gained unexpected pacers, and had support from people who went into town for supplies and food. One of the difficulties for many was - leaving the main station for their next loop while a party was going on. With all the races that my wife and I direct, this one is by far the most fun.

And then there was the race itself with all its own drama. Josue Stephens went out very fast, seperating himself from everybody else quickly. He'd won the 100km here last January, so we all wondered if he could hold it. This course is much the same except that I removed the flat section of Bandera for a shorter more technical route. He completed the first 25mi loop in 3:45. His crew suggested he slow down, but he was wired up and enjoying himself. He slowed some for loop two, finishing 50 miles in 8:30. His pacer left with him on loop three, but it was too late. He walked in from loop three, still well in the lead, with over 2 hours of gap. Medical spent 15 minutes working on his feet but they could not rebuild him completely. He left on loop four, but at mile 80, he was done. It still took some time for the others to make up the difference.

The trailing pack was David Johnston, Mason Parker, and Ryan Beard after loop one. Loop two was then George Hitzfeld, Mason Parker, and Brad Quinn. Loop three began with David, Eric Moortgat, and Mason Parker. David Johnston became the new leader at 80 miles and held on to finish in 22:54:53, winning 1st overall and setting a new course record. He is also the only person to run this course under 24 hours. Mason also finished well, taking 2nd place in 24:22:28. George Hitfeld took 3rd for the 2nd year in a row, with a time of 25:08:08.

Melissa Heggen led the ladies race on loop one, followed by Niki Bellnoski, and Abigail Meadows. Loop two had Melissa Heggen still in front, with Niki Bellnoski close behind, and Barbara Hitfeld starting to move up. Loop three saw both Melissa Heggen and Barbara Hitfeld moving up quickly on the overall field. Melissa was now 2nd overall and Barbara was moving up fast. Only 3 women started the final loop and all 3 were running well. Melissa ran a very smart race and won the women's field in 24:27:01, coming in 3rd overall and setting a new course record. Barbara took 2nd female and 6th overall in 27:01:32. Lorie Alexander was 3rd female in 30:56:01.

We had 5 finishers who had also finished last year, but not a single finisher was under the age of 30: nine in their 30s, 10 in their 40s, and 5 in their 50s.
The temp was between 46 and 80, mild to a bit warm. There was good cloud cover most of the day and an irregular breeze. Next year's event will be Oct 31st for a real trick or treat.

Joe Prusaitis
------------------------------

Cactus Rose 100 mile
Bandera, Tx
1 Nov 2008

1 22:54:53 David Johnston Wasilla AK M 38
2 24:22:28 Mason Parker New York NY M 37
3 24:27:01 Melissa Heggen Austin TX F 32
4 25:08:08 George Hitzfeld Ft Worth TX M 48
5 26:05:28 Eric Moortgat Bryan TX M 41
6 27:01:32 Barbara Hitzfeld Ft Worth TX F 47
7 27:05:32 Brad Quinn Horseshoe Bay TX M 35
8 27:28:43 Kevin Boudreaux Lewisville TX M 34
9 27:33:46 John Powers Magnolia TX M 45
10 27:40:09 Mike Dobies Lake Orion MI M 47
11 28:08:44 Dan Brenden Phoenix AZ M 57
12 28:29:07 Ryan Beard Austin TX M 33
13 29:19:02 Dalton Wade Wilson Graham TX M 37
14 30:39:11 Gunnar Faehn Algarheim Norway M 59
15 30:54:01 John Sharp Selma TX M 30
16 30:56:54 Lorie Alexander Coldstream BC Canada F 49
17 30:56:58 Barry Hopkins Castlegar Canada M 55
18 31:32:01 Axel Reissnecker Austin TX M 55
19 32:03:45 Dennis Drey Albuquerque NM M 57
20 32:07:15 Charles Hayes Asheboro NC M 47
21 32:13:28 Tony Maldonado San Antonio TX M 49
22 32:13:28 Chris Russell San Antonio TX M 42
23 34:05:12 Dan Hamilton McKinney TX M 51
24 35:05:12 Roger Davis Austin TX M 38
25 35:10:04 Robert Andrulis Chandler AZ M 40

48 starters

Imogene Pass Report

2008-10-01T07:20:00.002-05:00

Saturday September 6, 2008
35th Annual Imogene Pass Run
17.1 Miles
Ouray, CO to Telluride, CO
Imogene Pass (San Juan Mountains)
Elevation Start = 7,811 ft.
Elevation Peak = 13,114 ft.
Elevation Finish = 8,820 ft.
Ascent = 5,303 ft.
Decent = 4,294 ft.
Summit Time = 2:22:20
Finish Time = 3:18:54

Have you ever been to a place where you feel 100% content, your ideal world is surrounding you and your mind is saturated with positive thoughts? The mountains bring me vitality, appreciation and optimism.

I looked forward to running Imogene Pass for months. I knew the altitude would give me a swift kick in the ass showing me who was boss, however, I anticipated that I would be so engulfed in where I was and what I was experiencing that shortness of breath, a headache or nausea would be overlooked.

I arrived in Colorado Springs on Thursday night. I was greeted by JT and his friend Katie at the airport. After retrieving my bags we went to a local pub, which I believe was named Arctic Brewery. We had a drink or two and then headed back to JT's place before walking over to the local dive bar down the street to throw back a few more.

Friday morning I was able to get some extra sleep, which was really nice. The combination of altitude, travel and a slight hang over had me feeling quite lethargic. Conveniently, JT recommended an awesome place for breakfast, "Kings Chef." The place is the bomb. I wolfed down a breakfast burrito as thick as my forearm, some French Toast and washed it down with water and some coffee. I am now an official member of the “Clean Plate Club” and have a sticker to prove it.

We arrived in Ouray late Friday night after making stops at Moonlight Pizza in Salida and Monarch Pass. We decided to camp both Friday and Saturday nights and our campsite coincidentally was right along the course around the 3 mile mark. As we drove up the jeep road I assessed the incline of the course. In my mind I figured I could run at least the first 3 miles.

Saturday morning came rather quickly at 4:45 a.m. Unsurprisingly, I got very little sleep due to the altitude and quite frankly, who gets a great night of sleep before a race? At least I don't. After getting dressed and preparing for the day we loaded up the car and drove into town. We walked over to the local Y to get our bibs and schwag. Following packet pick-up we headed over to the local coffee joint for a bite to eat. I did not get my usual morning coffee as I did not want to dehydrate. I had made a conscious effort during the last 24 hours to drink plenty of water.

Around 7:20(7:30 a.m. start) I wandered over to the starting line and positioned myself in the first 1/3 of the pack of approximately 1500 runners. I had been looking for a reprieve from the Texas heat for quite some time. Furthermore, the heat seems to always quickly squeeze the energy out of me. I actually miss the cold weather from when I lived up north in CT and certainly perform exponentially better than when it is warm. Today was perfect in my eyes: the air was fresh, crisp and cool-probably in the low 40’s. The weather forecast called for sunny skies all day and cool temperatures up at the summit while in the 70’s in Telluride. I kept my fingers crossed that the weather predictions were accurate because you never know what the mountains will throw at you.

I wore shorts, a long sleeve underneath my Team Traverse t-shirt, a skull cap and my brand spanking new North Face Ultra 104's. Ever since the Montrail Masai's were discontinued I have been in constant search of a trail shoe that works well for me. Even though I broke a racing commandment(never try something new on race day), I figured the worse case scenario is I get bad blisters: been there and done that many times before.

The starter sent us off and I just told myself to be smooth, easy and relaxed. The first few miles were fairly easy compared to what would lie ahead. As I ran past our campsite around mile 3, JT and I joked about calling it a day and throwing down some beers. From about mile 3-7 1/2 I had a nice balance of running and power walking. Usually I hate walking uphill-much rather run. However, I knew that in order to avoid blowing up I should walk when I needed to and really listen to my body. When I did walk I walked with attitude and purpose: get to the top of the mountain and have a good time doing it.

I remember at one point during the run JT telling me to really enjoy my surroundings. Embracing where I was and what I was doing came naturally to me. At Upper Bird Camp(an aid station at mile 7.65 at 11,235 ft) I began to feel the altitude taking a toll on my muscles and cardiovascular system. From the aid station to the summit it was all about head and heart. I focused on my breathing, specifically exhaling forcefully to get rid of the CO2. Even though the last few miles to the top felt like snail's pace, I knew I would be rewarded immensely once I reached the summit.

As I reached the summit I made sure to take in my surroundings and briefly enjoy what I accomplished. JT let me have a swig of PBR. He mentioned my time was around 2:20, but my time was insignificant on this day. 3 weeks prior to Imogene I made the decision to stop wearing a watch when I run. During that time I felt free during my runs and just listened to my body. If I felt good, I would run a little longer. However, if I felt like crap, I would slow down the pace and run for a shorter duration. I enjoyed my runs more frequently. As a result, I decided to run Imogene without a watch.

After I refueled at the aid station at 13,114 ft., I took off down the other side of the mountain. The descent was out of control. After 3 miles of pounding the life out of my quads over loose rock, my legs were so shot and wobbly that I was anticipating a debilitating face plant. I have never had to focus that intensely for 7 miles going down hill-what a rush.

The new North Face Ultra's were working out really well. I did not have any feet issues and was pleasantly surprised. If my shoes were working out well then my decision making skills were sure to screw things up. Around mile 14 I felt a little pebble jump into my left shoe. I figured I had 3 miles left, so I will just suck it up and take care of it once I finish. Bad decision!

With about 2 miles to go I could see the incredible town of Telluride. The town is encapsulated by the mountains in three directions and would even amaze me even more once I hit Main Street. I finished the run in 3:18. My time was certainly overshadowed by the experience. Definitely the most rewarding run I have ever had!

After crossing the finish line I took of my shoes and socks and sure enough I had a nice silver dollar blister on the bottom of my left foot. If it were not for being stubborn my feet would have been unscathed, which would have been the first time in years. My quads were annihilated and I knew I would have a difficult time walking the next several days. It took me until Thursday for me not to be terrified of walking down stairs. Aside from my blister and shot quads, I was most happy about the fact that my knees nor hip flexors bothered me. I thought to myself that this could be the run that catapults me forward both mentally and physically.

I watched JT and Blos finish shortly after me. We enjoyed some brews while watching the rest of our group and other runners cross the finish line. There is nothing like relaxing in 70 degree sunshine, fresh air while having a Dale’s Pale Ale.

Once everyone from our group finished, we took a couple of group photos by the finish line. Then we watched the awards ceremony in the park nearby before heading back to Ouray via school bus. We got back to our campsite where JT convinced me to jump in the low 40 degree creek. I only stayed in for less than a minute-the most clean I have been in 3 days. I should have stayed in there longer to help my muscles recover.

In the evening, our group went to "Maggies Kitchen" for a solid burger and then met up for a Ouray HASH. Stops included "Billy Goats Gruff," "Buen Tiempo," "Outlaws," "Ourayle Brew Pub(definitely my favorite)," and "O'Briens Pub."

On Monday morning we grabbed a quick bite to eat at the local coffee shop and hit the road back to Colorado Springs. On the way back JT drove along Skyline Dr which is a narrow one lane road that looks out over Canyon City-talk about kick-ass views! JT, Katie and Chum dropped me off at the airport. Needless to say, I was extremely reluctant to leave my little slice of Heaven! Can’t thank JT and Katie enough for their awesome hospitality! Up next, a 100K in Nicaragua in December: Fuego y Agua!

-H2

Grand Teton 100

2008-09-19T11:18:00.001-05:00

Grand Teton 100
Grand Targhee, Wy
Aug 30, 2008
Joe Prusaitis

The logistics of the Grand Teton 100 is such that we run sections A, B, and C for 25 miles and then repeat the same loop 4 times for 100 miles. A is simply Fred's Mountain. Up to the top and return the same way back to the Base for 5.6 miles. B is Mill Creek for a 14.4 mile loop that again starts and ends back at the Base. And finally C into Rick's Basin for the final 5 miles out and back again to the Base. For the convenience of drop bags and support, it is hard to beat. Not only is my room in the Grand Targhee resort within 50 feet of Base, but so is a very good restaurant, a convenience store, swimming pool, showers, and so on. As are most starts for 100 mile races, it is very simple and anticlimactic. We simply start walking up the road. And I do mean up the road. The service road starts under the ski lift at Base and ends at the other end of the lift on the summit of Fred's Mountain. Our route is not as direct or as smooth as the ski lift, but it might be as steep. I find myself next to Bud Phillips, geared into a power walk, matching stride for stride, as we walk out of the early morning darkness into the mornings first light. It's all rock solid hard-pack with a dusting of loose rock on top. It's just enough to mess with my footing. At first glance it looks strait and smooth, but it isn't either. The road drifts to the right of the lift and shifts from >steep to rolling, with a little waggle every now and then. The road is anything but constant or consistent, so holding a steady rhythm is near impossible, The road makes a sharp left bend at an upward angle around the top section of the mountain. Just as the leaders pass me heading back down, I see the ski lift and the back side of a large sign. I look back to read - 'SLOW'. It most certainly is, but it's facing the wrong way. The road bends sharp right and 50 yards later ends at the top of the ski lift at Fred's Mountain aid station. I stop for a slice of melon, then turn and start back down. I lose all my uphill friends rather quickly. Not that I am running fast so much as I have simply allowed gravity to pull me down the mountain. It's easier to
maintain balance and keep from sliding on the loose rock, if I just go with the flow, so I do. The 50 mile race starts an hour after us, so I pass them trudging up as I sprint down. Larry, Gaurav, Joyce, Henry, Marcia, and Jeff are my compatriots from Texas that send me energy as I speed by. At Base, I swap out my sopping wet bandana for a ball cap and grab a bag of shot bloks & hammer gel. The route to Mill Creek begins with a jeep road and uphill, but not nearly as steep as Fred's. The service road winds and twists as it switches further up the valley. Our first bit of trail comes suddenly, dropping off the right side of the road for a shortcut past just a corner piece of road, and then pops back onto the same road
after the bend at Lightning Ridge. The wind is cutting hard across, lifting the dirt from the road and flinging it into my eyes. Too late, I duck my head to protect my face. Through watery eyes, I can see that this is a beautiful setting, the land falling away in front and behind. I'm always impressed with the old growth trees, tall & thick, with deep soft mulch all around them, but mostly its the aura of rich silence and the coolness in areas that rarely feel the sun's heat. The lively aspens also brighten my mood, with their bright white bark and leaves that always seem to be dancing in the slightest of breezes. Our single track has become a road again, but now it's a wide sweeping descent to the next aid station. The roads here are very hard packed, with imbedded rocks poking out, and more loose rock on the surface. Cruising down, I hook onto the backside of three others who all seem to know each other. It's only been 2 miles since we left the Base, so none of us stop at the unmanned water station. The jeep road drops another 100 yards down to a structure that looks like a large tent on a concrete foundation. Soon after, we are on single-track again, and still moving downhill.

We pass through an open gate into a beautiful wilderness. A gentle downhill that gets me running again. From all the trees and foliage,
I cant see what the trail is going to do, so the turns and hurdles
are all of a sudden. I'm passing and being passed a few times before I finally end up on front of the trio. Only Anthony comes with me as
we pass the trail split and pick up speed. The trail is mostly
smooth, well worn by mountain bikers, and very dusty. A coat of
pulverized dirt sits on top, so that every step raises a small cloud.
If you're not in front, you're breathing a lot of dirt. The trail
continues for 3 miles after the split before dumping us on a dirt
road that appears to be a major thoroughfare. Car after car speeds
by, raising a brown haze that fills the air. I pull my shirt up over
my head and try to look through the material while I walk down the
road. The dirt road becomes paved just as we come into the Ski Hill
Road aid station.

These guys are set up pretty nice in a big RV with a large tent right
next to it. Our drop bags are laid out in the open next to the tent.
I dig into my bag just for a hammer gel and sharkies. Besides that, I
haven't done much of anything else besides a few slices of melon and
orange. I think I had been eating and drinking way too much, so I've
intentionally cut back.

My stay is short and I match strides with Anthony as make the turn
and begin our forced march up the paved road. 3.3 miles of pavement
switchbacks upwards and we restrain ourselves from running any of it.
We dial in a crisp clean power walk with a quick turnover and no
letup. We can see a few others below us as we climb the second level,
with one other twosome of long legged guys who remain just ahead of
us all the way up and around the bend. The third level is less steep
and moving more directly up into the mountains. The aid station sits
aside the road on the right side. A few people wait on the four of
us, while I sit in the shade and relax for a moment.

And then as quickly we are out, heading back into the forest on
another jeep road. But this one is not so hard and much easier on my
feet. The long legged guys stride ahead and so does Anthony. I cannot
match them on this set of soft hills, and slowly fall behind. The
forest is thick and quiet here. The undergrowth is dense and the
trees tall. Its very peaceful and serene. But its warm and I'm
sweating a bit more than I should for only the 1st loop. I back off
and let it go, choosing to take it easy for now. This section has a
fair bit of uphill, and I make the best of every stride, but it sure
isn't fast. You might say I'm taking a leisurely stroll, and still,
it is the most that I care to spend of my precious energy. This part
of the forest seems so far from civilization, and yet I know that it
is not. Coming back to the split, I wonder how I missed it coming in.
It is marked very well with numerous arrows and wrong ways. Left and
up, I walk through the gate, pass the permanent tent, and then slide
uphill to the water only aid station.

This next uphill is one hoss of a climb, a big half-moon arching
curve that climbs a couple hundred feet. The final 50 feet are strait
up to Lightning Ridge. I assume I'm heading back across the single
track short cut, so its a surprise to see the arrow sending me right
and up the jeep road. Damn, and I incorrectly guess that I'm done
with the climb also. The next section isn't so bad, but I'm not
expecting it. Still, I get to the top of the road in a short period
of time. Its a beautiful hike, with panoramic views on the left. A
left at the top turns me down hill and back towards Base. I start to
run again but nothing aggressive. I take the gentle ride back home,
feeling pretty used up. I want to knock out the last section to
finish one complete loop, so I take just a short break before heading
back out.

Rick's Basin is a gentle stroll compared to all the other stuff I've
seen since this morning. It again, starts with dirt service road, but
shifts quickly to trail and stays on trail until just before I return
again. The trail is not flat or strait but neither is it very hilly.
Its an easy ride that wanders about a field and some trees that
surround the basin. The switchbacks are almost comical in an area
that could just as easily have gone strait up a gentle slope. These
are most likely done like this for the mountain bikers for distance
and entertainment. Its a wonderfully easy romp, except that its
gotten warm and I'm starting to overheat. The aid station is about
3.5 miles into the loop which means its not that far from the Base,
so I simply pass it by and head for home.

I decide to take a shower at loops end, but Lisa suggest I simply
jump in the swimming pool instead. Sounds like a great idea, but when
I take my socks off, I discover a ton of dirt caked on my feet, so I
head for the shower first and then the pool. I end up changing my
entire wardrobe including shoes. My feet are throbbing from the hard
roads, so I switch to a shoe with more cushion. The shower and pool
are refreshing and feel so good. Joyce & Henry are at the station
when I get back from the pool. I get a hug & a kiss from my petty
wife before starting up Fred's for the beginning of loop two.

Round two on Fred's Mountain reminds me of the Law of Diminishing
Returns: beyond some point, each additional unit of input yields less
and less output. So, it costs more to get less. Slipping on the loose
rock, I struggle to find some rhythm without success. The best I can
do, is not stop, and happy as hell with that. It's slow, very slow,
but each landmark slips behind me in slow motion. I pass a guy
sitting on the side of the road in the shade of one tree, and then
another. I've been there where they are and will be there again. My
first thought is to offer up a bit of encouragement, but realize more
likely they wish to be left alone. I simply nod and get the same
answer. What else need be said? The summit slowly comes to me, and I
check my watch as I come in. A lot slower than last time but not
nearly as bad as I expect. I sit down and let Auggie massage my legs
with ice while I eat some melon and another Hammer gel. Going down is
always easy. I tend to allow gravity have its way with me. I scan the
road to read the terrain and simply fall off the mountain. My mantra
all the way down is "Drop Dead Fred". Reaching base feels so good
just knowing that Fred is behind me yet again. I take a much longer
break this time: to rest, to eat, and to cool down.

The initial climb and the road into Mill Creek aren't so bad, but the
road dust is killing me. My throat is sore and my voice raspy from
inhaling so much of the funk. Every step raises a puff of dirt. My
ascent is slow at best and every time somebody passes me, to avoid
their dust, I stop to let them get some distance before starting
again. Lightning Ridge and the long descent afterwards are blurred by
the heat. I cant seem to focus on anything but my own discomfort. I
seem to have a long laundry list of physical problems that keeps
growing the further I go. I try to redirect my thoughts to something
more beneficial: the surrounding beauty of these mountains, but the
distraction quickly fades back to my discomforts that are demanding
attention. A slight breeze sneaks through at odd intervals, each one
pushing me to the positive. I've been on a lovely single-track with
gorgeous views in every direction, but I hadn't even noticed until
just now. My perspective is realigned to the beauty around me,
pulling me out of the mental cesspool I'm swimming in. The trail is
worn smooth and clear of debris, so avoiding rocks and other hazards
is easy enough. There is a place along here where the trail bends
slightly more downhill and my body naturally starts to roll a bit. I
do cross just one spot of rocks more technical than anyplace else out
here, but it is short, no more than a landmark. The switchbacks are
another landmark that let me know I'm almost to the road. Teton Creek
is also noisy enough for me to hear long before I see it. I come out
of the trees to a well traveled but dirt Teton Canyon Road. I head
directly to the creek where I dunk my head and wet my hat. There are
a few things that are always just perfect because of the timing. This
roadside head dunk is one of those times. It brings a smile and a
moment of perfect silence to revel in the moment. Its just a moment
but you want it to last forever. Too soon, I am once again walking
slowly down the road to the aid station on the corner of Ski Hill Road.

I have some food in my drop bag, but it's been cooking in the hot sun
all day and there is no way I can eat anything out of there right
now. Even the shot bloks and sharkies are melted into blobs of gunk.
I had planned to change into a clean shirt, but instead leave on what
I have, including my wonderfully cold wet hat. They have ice here,
and not the regular ice, but crushed ice. I have a warm jug of
gatorade in my bag, and with the crushed ice, I make a very delicious
fruit punch slushy. Nirvana! Oh my, but it cools my parched throat
and raises a smile.

Now for the road. It wasn't so bad the last time and I'm hoping it
will pass as easily this time. I push my cadence with the intention
of holding it for awhile. The paved road has no bumps or trees to
dodge, so its easy to thoughtlessly lean into my pace and simply
focus on just that. The road rises 700 ft over 3.3 miles, using a few
long sweeping switchbacks. I take the first turn and then check the
road under me as I rise. I have an odd curiosity to see if anyone is
close behind. I don't care really. Maybe I'm looking for some sort of
motivation. There is one woman and she's moving pretty well. A kid on
a skateboard speeds down the hill past me, using his hands to slow
himself down. He has metal studs on his gloves that throw sparks as
he breaks. A guy on the side of the road offers up a water spray, so
I stand there for minutes while he hoses me down. And then he asks if
I'd like an ice cold Gatorade. I thank him for both, and turn to
leave, when the woman catches me, and damn if she isn't running. She
slows to walk with me but wants none of the roadside guy or his spray
bottle. Says she ran Cascade 100 last week and is feeling it pretty
bad right about now. She just wants to be done, so she picks up and
starts running again.

I come into the Cold Spring station just as she leaves. Its hot and
I'm dealing with a power shortage. I need some shade and cold drinks
and I have them both right here. I spend way too much time, sitting,
drinking, and eating. I know I need to get out and eventually tip
myself in that direction. The jeep road out is a typical rutted and
uneven jeep road including the rocks and twists around trees.
Eventually, it becomes a trail, and I can't be certain when it
actually made the switch from road to trail. Deep in the forest now,
it's quiet and cool. The sun comes through now and again, but it
feels good not to have it constantly beating upon me. I think I like
this section the best and also I think I like this section the least.
Its more uphill but gentle for awhile, with the steeper up-hills
coming soon. It feels good and it feels bad. I'll bet this section
would be a lot more fun going the other direction. I wonder what this
course would be like if we reversed directions each loop? Might be
fun to see where my buddies are as well. I've lost track of all of
them. Once again, I'm looking for any form of stimulation to get my
motor going. I can't seem to spin it up. My feet hurt: actually, I
hurt from the knees down. More jello in my legs than I care to have
right now. There's no give in these rocky roads and my feet are
crying from the unforgiving hardness of them. Back at the split, the
trail tilts up even more. The gate, then the tent building, and then
the Cat Ski Platform water tent. I don't need any water, but if there
was a chair to sit in, I'd sit in it. The water coolers own the only
2 chairs here. And that is all there is here: A popup tent over 2
coolers sitting in 2 chairs. Funny that I can begrudge the water
coolers a chair when any old rock or log will do. I must be getting
punchy. I need to get back on top of my calories. I don't even stop,
but my mind is moving a lot faster than I am. You know that feeling
when something happening quickly slows way down in your mind, where
your reactions increase to hyper-speed. Well, this is sort of like
that right now, except nothing is happening quickly. My mind covers a
few novels worth of data while I barely take 3 paces past the tent.
My thoughts and memories seem to be on high speed strobe. Maybe my
mind is compensating for my body being completely in the shitter. The
climb up Lightning Ridge should realign a few more things for me,
mentally or physically. In granny gear, with head down, I take one
step, balance myself, then another, and repeat. Such a simple
process, walking, and so easy to do... most of the time. It is
anything but that right now. My legs are shot, my mojo is gone, but
the desire still burns a tiny flame somewhere deep inside. The climb
is not that long, yet seems forever and longer til I reach the ridge.
No solace on top, I make the right turn, knowing how close I am to
Base. Another short climb, an easy but awkward stroll, to the turn
and then down. Blessed and wonderful downhill, around the turns, more
than I remember, and finally Base. I walk in slow and easy, tell Jay
I'm taking a break, and with Joyce, walk over to my room for some rest.

I cannot believe how bad my legs feel. I strip down to take a
lukewarm shower, partly to cool down, partly for the refreshing feel,
and partly to clean off the dust and crud. I climb in and hose down.
It feels so wonderfully good. When I climb out, I immediately go
hypothermic. By the time I wrap up in some blankets, my entire body
is shaking uncontrollably. I roll up in a ball and listen to Joyce
tell me I'm done. I certainly can't argue with her. I hurt all over &
know I have the shakes. She wants me to agree with her, but so far,
I'm waiting to see if it abates. I can't quit but I also can't move.
It might be out of my hands, but I want to wait a bit to see what
happens. Joyce leaves to tell Lisa & Jay that I may be done. Rolled
up in a small ball, in bed, under cover, I shake a bit and sleep a
bit, until an hour goes by. Tentatively, I expose a foot, then a leg,
and then my head, to gauge the reaction. I might have my core temp
back under control. So, I slowly dress my self back into running
gear, but gear for a winter expedition. And then, piece by piece I
switch back to something less arctic. I need to stay warm, but I'll
overheat if I go out there like this. Its night time now, but it
certainly isn't freezing. And I'll generate some heat as long as I'm
moving. Joyce brings me the pizza and I try to eat while she pops the
numerous blisters on my right foot. With a swift kick in the pants,
she sends me out with a promise that I'll stop if I have any problems
at all. Hell, its all about dealing with the problems, so we'll see
how I look after doing the easy 5 mile loop into Rick's Basin. I
still need that just to bag 50 miles. And then Fred's Mountain will
likely finish me off. if not, I should be good to go.

So, out I go, back to check in and head out. I have a very bright
green light that lights my way. The road to Rick's is easy, but then
I note that all the glowsticks are burned down to a dull glow.
Doesn't help that my green light merges with the dull yellow lights.
The glowsticks are virtually worthless, but the course is so well
marked as to void out any need for the sticks anyway. I have no
problems finding my way, and thats a strong statement from a guy who
is nearly blind and runs without the glasses he needs to see
anything. I don't have any problem at all. Matter of fact, my walking
pace is so strong after the rest, that I make the entire loop much
faster than either I or Joyce expects. Another interesting note is
that my feet no longer hurt. The hour long break has healed my woes.
Simply amazing. I feel great! So, I sit for some broth and then start
up Fred's Mountain for the third time.

Is a climb easier when you can't see how tough it is? Over the years,
I have had this discussion many times with a wide variety of people,
usually while climbing a mountain in the dark. I am alone now.
Everybody must have already gone ahead, because I see nobody as I
climb and have the same discussion again with myself. From my
perspective right now which is certainly distorted by a dozen
variables, it seems rather easy. Is it the power of the mind, the
rest, the dark, or all of the above? My strong good feelings buoy me
even higher so that I go faster as I get higher. Why? A second wind?
We used to tease each other about a "Seventh Wind" late in these long
races. I start laughing as the memory strobes through my thoughts.
Still, there is nobody to hear it but me. Do I have the mountain to
myself? Are they all ahead? Am I dead last? Why did they let me go
on, if I'm past the cutoff? Hell, I don't even know what the cutoff
is. I can see the chair lift as I pass under it, just as a herd of
runners goes by in the other direction. So, at least I am not alone.
A few minutes later, I arrive in the aid station. I stop to sit for a
cup of soup. Auggie and crew dish it up and tell me that I'm hard on
the heels of the entire pack of third loopers. I had no idea. For
some reason, I feel very comfortable sitting and drinking while I
visit with the crew for 15 minutes. And then I give chase, falling
off the mountain and chasing the lights ahead of me. Still, there is
nobody behind me as I descend all the way to Base.

By now, Joyce knows that I have no intention on stopping, and she's
thinking she would enjoy pacing me through the night. This has a side
benefit too. This allows her to finish the 50 mile distance, while I
complete 75 miles. She was running the 50 mile race earlier in the
day but stopped after 31 miles. That was 8 hours ago. When I come in,
she's dressed and ready to go. So, after a short stop for some soup,
I leave for Mill Creek along with my wife. My energy is back up, but
it's late, and its dark, so mostly we walk. From Lightning Ridge, we
can see the lights of Driggs Idaho. We roll over the top and slip
down into a dark valley. We have a great time talking about her day
and my day and the circumstances of each. The wind is blowing much
stronger now. A young aspen branch is whipped around right at my face
and scares the hell out of me. With all the leaves whipping about, I
thought something was attacking my face. With the increase in
adrenalin, it now seems so easy to run again. We're down to the dirt
road much sooner than I expect. Even in the dark, there are cars
speeding by, raising hell with my eyes and throat. I still have some
gatorade at the aid station, so I make another slushy to go with the
soup.

The paved road is quiet at first, and then a car speeds by. Joyce and
I both have green lights, so I'm sure we're entertaining to those who
drive by. We make the first turn and then the second, where Joyce
points out an owl smashed dead on the road. We pass a couple on the
strait-away just before finding the next station. There is only one
person here now and no light, so he's using his head lamp to find
what we need. He has a thermos of some sort with lukewarm potato soup
in it. We take a cup and then head on out. About 15 minutes in, we
start hearing some loud snapping sounds in the brush. Not knowing
exactly what it is, but knowing it isn't small, we hurry up a bit.
The sound fades behind us, but keeps us hurrying anyway towards a
sharp turn. Something large moves left to right just in front of me.
My light is down so its just a large shadow until I bring the beam
up. Its a big cow moose and she doesn't seem the least bit bothered
by our presence. Joyce and I both have our green LED lights on her
now, but she doesn't stop or turn. She watches us as we watch her
move into thicker brush such that both parties are moving in opposite
directions rather quickly. What a wonderful experience to spot a
moose in the wild. Joyce is thrilled with the experience and not much
later, it starts to rain. A little at first as we pass the split,
then the gate, & the concrete tent. By the time we reach the aid
station, its starting to come down harder. The cold rain drops
hitting my back feel good and hurries us both up towards Lightning
Ridge. By the time we summit, its really coming down good, and the
wind is now bringing it sideways as well. Just past the ridge, we
pull up next to a wind break of trees to put on our jackets. We
barely get them on before it opens up and pours. We're thoroughly
enjoying it all as we head for Base. Finally, I get buzzed up and
start running, round the turns, and down into Base. The small crowd
under the tents, hiding from the rain, cheers us in.

I'm cold now, from the rain, so I put on my rain pants. Joyce goes
back to our room to get her rain pants also, so I wait until she
returns before starting back out again. Rick's Basin is our next
task. We quickly realize the rain pants are a mistake. So, we stop
and peel 'em back off. Then we stash 'em at the split with intention
on collecting them on the return. The rain spits and spurts off and
on, so that we deal with our jackets going off and on. Takes us about
an hour to roll around and back. We hear the roar of the marathon
start while we are still a few miles out. They start with Fred so,
I'll see them later. We pick up the pants and waltz the final section
to get Joyce in for her finish. She is done, but I have one more
complete loop to get.

The sun comes up on me as I drop my jacket and attempt to leave
lighter. But Joyce insists I take it with. She even ties it around my
waist. It has been raining and it looks like we will get more, but I
am damned tired of carrying any extra weight just in case something
might happen. I know better, but I am now in my second strait day and
any minor irritant will be discarded. So, with rain clouds all
around, and a new day, I start back up Fred's for the final time. I
really seem to have it going again. My motor is going but this climb
is a bitch, so I chill my pace to an easy but constant push. The
marathon runners stream down past me as I slowly climb. Each and
every one cheers me on as they pass. One even stops to hug me and
won't let go, killing my momentum. I'm too dazed and punchy to
object, but it irritates me that he would do that. Slowly I climb
Fred until the last marathon runners roll by. Another 100 miler
catches me and we summit together, to find another 100 miler sitting
at the station. I ask for something hot and they tell me they'll heat
it up. I decline, saying I don't wish to wait, so I turn and head out
alone, just as two more 100 milers come in. I start running and keep
running until I hit the bottom without passing a single person. A
fellow near the bottom asks if I've seen his runner and I have. She
was sitting in the chair on top, looking to be in no hurry at all.
When I told her I was running down, she said "I hate you". I see Lisa
and ask her about my reference point. She tells me there are 4 people
behind me... all of them on Fred right now. So that's it or we're it.
That was the back of the bus all on top of Fred's at the same time.
Ok, so now I know where I stand.

I didn't need the jacket on the last section and have no intention on
carrying it further. I messed with it all the way up and again coming
down, so I drop it off. Henry hooks on and goes with as I leave for
Mill Creek. Looks like he's going to repeat Joyce's idea of finishing
his 50 miler. he had stopped at 40 miles the day before, and has
decided to pace me around to finish his race too. He tells me that
Marcia hitched a ride to mile 40 to finish her 50 miler as well. Very
nice, to bag the whole thing regardless. Joyce has inspired the lot
of them to get what they came for. He tells me that Joyce says I'll
be easy, good for a walk and no more. And that is the way it seems to
be. We walk up and out with 19 miles to go. Lightning Ridge behind
us, we start down the big descent easily. Henry goes ahead to get
some water from the water station, so that when I pass by, he is
already good to go. A few runners pass us coming back, while we go
out. I can't tell if they're in the marathon, or the 100 mile race,
but I think they're all in the marathon. I try to get my motor going,
but my run can't even raise Henry to a jog. Over and over again, I
feel like I got it going, but then I look at Henry and see that I
don't. After passing the trail split, I realize that Henry is finally
running to keep up with me and it fills me with delight, knowing that
I must be finally going faster. My perception is so skewed and my
thinking so whacked, that I am not certain of anything. One thing is
certain though: I am damn well running again. My turnover has picked
up and we spin right down to the road. Again, I stop to dunk my head
in the creek and soak my hat. I cover up to hide my face from the
dust, while Henry cusses each car that drives by. They're tearing
down the station when we walk in. They tell me that I am 2nd from
last. And the last person is coming into the station right behind me.
Its the same woman who was sitting in the chair up on Fred. They
allow me to sit in the shade of the tent that is half collapsed while
I have a drink.

We walk out, for the final time, I try to spin my cadence back up
again to power up this final section of asphalt. Joyce & Gaurav drive
by and then stop, surprised that we're making such good time. They
had assumed we would be a lot slower and misjudged when we'd be at
the aid station. So they turn around and cheer us on as we climb the
road. The first turn and then the second goes quickly. The third and
then the final strait-away. A grasshopper clatters his wings, looking
for a mate, while he follows Henry in his bright yellow shirt. He
flies to the road side then comes back and follows some more. I think
he likes you Henry. You're the biggest grasshopper he's ever seen and
he wants to mate. We laugh and keep walking and the lonely
grasshopper keeps flying right next to us, clattering away. Joyce &
Gaurav wait at the aid station for us, and we get extra special
treatment when we arrive. Our stay is short though as we have places
to go. Last thing Henry does before he leaves is hand Joyce his jacket.

We walk down the jeep road into the forest together, melting just a
bit from the heat, and Henry dripping from his ice filled bandana.
Henry seems to have plenty of spring in his step but I feel like I'm
working my butt off just to stay near him. Deep in the densest part
of these woods, about the same place Joyce and I heard them on the
last loop, We start hearing the same crashing sounds. Henry has
already heard about our moose encounter, and I tell him it was in
this same area. Glancing left and right, we hurry just a bit more,
hoping to avoid any problems with the moose or whatever it is we
hear. Henry has also been watching the clouds and tells me we are
about to get some cloud cover. A short time later, we do get some
shade, which also drops the temperature. I pick up pace immediately
and Henry empties his ice bandana. It starts to rain ever so
slightly, and Henry tells me to thank him for the rain because had he
kept his jacket it most certainly would not have rained. I left my
Jacket with Joyce back at Base a long time ago and I'm still damn
glad I didn't have to carry it al morning thru this heat. Bring on
the rain, I say. Storm on me, Please! I want to feel it. We pass the
split, the gate, and then the concrete tent before it starts raining
harder. Its coming down pretty hard as we approach the water aid
station. I ask Henry if it makes sense to stop and wait under the
tent for cover, but we decide to go on. Its much better being wet and
moving than wet and standing still. As we start up towards Lightning
Ridge, the rain increases. The cold rain starts to soak into our
shirts and then our skin, and pushes us both up the tough climb
rather quickly. Motivated by the rain, powered by the cold, we charge
up and make the turn, heading for Base. Henry starts running again
and I try, but can't quite spin up until the sky really opens up and
starts pouring buckets of cold water. Henry says he's done and plans
to let me have the final five alone. We're running very well now,
round the turns and down the mountain, heading home. A loud roar from
the Base tent warms my heart as we roll in. Joyce shoves a shirt into
my hands and tells me to put it on, then my jacket. Somebody tries to
to unroll the rain hood, but I want to feel the rain. Its the rain
that has brought me back to life for this strong finish. I want to
get out and go while it still rains, to use it for as long as I can.

Henry is also handed a rain-jacket and without any delay, we're both
running back out toward Rick's Basin. "I thought you were stopping?"
"I was, but they didn't know that." "Now, I wonder if I can keep up
with you." We run for a short ways, but then walk a short uphill,
then run some more. The rain feels great and also, I am almost done.
The power of both help keep my motor revved up. We run round the bend
and then power walk up another short hill. And so we continue running
and walking, til the rain stops. I peel off my jacket, and then it
starts raining again. I put it back and it stops again. I talk it
back off and then carry it in my hand, enjoying the rain and keeping
my feet moving until the final climb. We walk one last time, before
we shake hands and then run over the final hump and turn into the
finish.

Diana's Cascade Crest 100 Race Report

2008-09-16T19:17:00.003-05:00

Cascade Crest Classic 100
Easton, WA
23-24 August 2008 by Diana Heynen

Cascade Crest Classic 100 is one of the few 100's that does not require an alarm clock. With a 10 A.M. start time, Robert and I awake before the 6:30 alarm. We are anxious to go by 7:30. Shawn F. down the hall is ready to go as well. So we load up the ugly rental car and head to Easton. We drop off our drop bags and get our race packet: a cloth shopping bag with the race logo filled with a short sleeve technical T-shirt, nice ceramic coffee mug, and other goodies. The Easton volunteer fire department is serving a great breakfast and we visit and chow down. Matt and Ellen from Colorado are there, Matt at it again after finishing the Tahoe Rim Trail 100 a month earlier. The more sane Ellen is crewing him after her 50 mile finish at TRT. Carl Davies, Shawn Fagan, Robert, and I represent Texas this year. I am also excited to represent Team Traverse of Traverse Trail Running, sporting their short sleeve shirt from Patagonia. It is a pleasant morning, sunny, cool enough to momentarily think of starting in my long sleeve shirt, but I knew better. I have chosen the Vasque Blurs from my shoe arsenal. Race briefing is at 9 A.M., I snap some pre-race photos, get a good luck kiss from Robert, and at 10 A.M. the journey begins.

We head up the road and begin climbing. I have 2 Heed and 2 Spiz refills with me. The plan is to refuel with those about every 10 miles. There is a water station at mile 4 and I top off my bottles because it is there. I pause to take a photo, thinking I would try to do this at each aid station. As we turn onto the trail climbing to Goat Peak, I realize that the climbing is just now really beginning. For much of this climb we are cat and mousing with 2 guys on dirt bikes. They would pass, almost running down runners, I would then pass them while their bikes were overheating. While it was amazing that they were doing what they were doing on this steep, narrow trail, it did become annoying to have to scramble off the trail as they approached and have to listen to their noise and smell their gasoline. I kinda hoped I could beat them to the top, but I did not. I am surprised to pass Carl on this climb. I take photos and enjoy the views.

At Col Butte aid station (mile 11 - 2:48), I refuel and top off my water bottles, joking with the aid station guy about his big jugs, snap a photo, munch on something, and move on.

Dropping down on a dirt road section, I see Shawn Fagan and his braids ahead. I had earlier helped him braid his hair. He is taking it easy on the downhill to preserve his knees. I keep my downhill momentum going and pull ahead of him. At Blowout Mountain aid station (mile 15 - 3:55) I have some ravioli (the chili just does not sound right this early) top my bottles, snap a photo, and move on.

Next comes the Pacific Crest trail. It's a pretty wooded section with some good running. I notice some bees on some of the flowers and try not to piss any of them off, recalling some folks got stung in this section last year. I am thinking I recognize the section where Robert and I helped carry a runner down last year, and sure enough, I drop into Tacoma aid station (mile 23 - 5:57). Tamara and Ariana are there to crew Carl and they help me with my stuff. They take my picture, but silly me, I forgot to take theirs. I think I had a turkey sandwich and coke and was on my way.

On my way again, listening to my ipod off and on as I am mostly by myself. It's fairly warm and I keep pushing fluids. I encounter Matt, who seems to be struggling. He is low on water and wondering where the next aid station is. I think a mile or 2, judging from my Garmin, but not sure allowing for the variance from the tree cover. I offer to share water, but he declines. As it turns out, my Heed bottle was empty and Spiz bottle half empty by the time I got to Snowshoe Butte (28 miles - 7:53). I refill my bottles and move on to Stampede Pass aid station (mile 33 -8:49). My best-case scenario goal is staying 2 hours ahead of cut-off and I am only off by 19 minutes, so I am quite happy). The first person I see is Robert. I am happy to see him, but sad because that means he had to drop early in the game. Before the 11-mile aid station he knew his injury from Tahoe Rim Trail 50mi would not let him get the buckle this year. He helps me with my drop bags and to refuel my bottles. I take a Heed and Spiz and my flashlight. I also add the Nathan hydration vest, not for water, but loaded with rain jacket, long sleeve shirt, headband, gloves for nighttime. It seems like overkill, but I do not want to head into the mountains at night unprepared.

In this section, I encounter a woman named Rachel. She passes me and occasionally asks me If I want around. I am really just hanging on to her and grateful for the incentive. I stop to get my flashlight, and she loses me. There is also a woman named Angela who I see off and on in this section. The 41-mile aid station arrives at 10:58. In the next section, a guy comes up behind be, so I let him pass. This section has some rocky areas and small creek crossings. I am hanging on to this guy to get a preview of the footing in the darkness. I ask him if he minds and he is ok with it. At Olallie Meadows aid station (mile 47 – 13:15) I stop to enjoy the famous, yummy pirogues, refuel the bottles, and am off again.

Onward I go through the night, and I encounter a steep downhill section of a mile or more that reminds me of the hill of life on steroids. And then the anticipated "ropes": basically a bushwack down a very steep section with ropes tied to trees to guide you and somewhat support you. An aid station volunteer told me she preferred not to use gloves, so I did not, but was kinda wanting them by the end. Holding the rope while juggling the flashlight and water bottle was a trick – I almost stopped to put on my headlamp but figured it could not be too much further. I finally reach the bottom, then run for a bit to arrive and the also anticipated tunnel: 2 miles through an old train tunnel. The entrance and exit both had water seeping and dripping and for a short distance inside water was dripping almost like rain. The temperature was probably cooler in here than all night on the trail. Footing was fairly smooth, but about halfway through a new player in my running game joined in: pain in my right outside knee. IT band, I think? Gee, I hope not. It helps to stop and rub it and to walk a bit. I finally exit the tunnel and soon come upon pavement. There were not many glow sticks but I spotted the orange arrows and kept going. At last, I crossed over to where I could see the Hyak aid station and lots of friendly faces. (mile 53 – 15:07); only 7 minutes off the best case goal!!) Robert, Tamara, and Ellen are all there to help.

So here I am at mile 53. I change into dry socks and re-bandage the open blister on the top of my left big toe. I also have hot spots on the inner side of both heels, not bad and also nothing much to do about it. My quads already feel shot, my knee hurts, my back yelps at me occasionally. Am I having fun yet? "I just want to get this sucker over with," I say to Robert. I fuel up the bottles, grab a Heed and Spiz for the road, and get something to eat. They have a Christmas party theme going on here. I had noted some mighty tasty looking cookies, etc, on the way in, but forgot to grab some on the way out. Darn. The clean dry socks feel good.

As I leave, I am informed that some assholes have been stealing and moving glow sticks in the next section. An aid station person tells me to go till I hit gravel, turn left, and keep turning left. I head down the access road and after a bit, start wondering, "How far is it to the gravel?" After what seems to be about ¾ to a mile, I see some gravel, turn in, but it is a house under construction. I go a bit further and find a trail. There are some low limbs, it does not look well used, no glow sticks, and just does not feel right, so I go back to the road. I go further down and still do not see gravel. I do not think I should be on pavement for so long, so I decided to go back to the aid station for better directions, hoping this will not cost me the race. I meet up with Al, who had run CCC 2 or 3 years ago. He was told that the road turns into gravel, but he did not know how far. We see another gravel turn-off with a glow stick hanging just barely past it. We keep going on the pavement, as he is pretty sure we do not turn. We keep going for what seems to be another mile, the road turns into one lane, but still no gravel. Al is now beginning to doubt his memory, we turn around and come upon Rachel and her pacer. He has with him the directions which say the pavement lasts for one mile, so we are all really confused. The pacer runs ahead and returns, having found gravel. Al and I had almost turned around only about 400 yards before reaching it! Thank you Rachel and pacer!

The trail continues for about another 6 miles up a steep dirt road. Rachel drops back and Angela and friend join in. It is around 3 A.M. and I am for the first time in my overnight events falling asleep on my feet. It is a strange feeling. I pop some chocolate covered coffee beans and it is hard to tell if they are helping or not. The loose-knit group climbs and climbs. I have to be staggering. Even though we are seeing glow sticks, I am still wondering if they have been tampered with. At last Keechelus Ridge aid station comes into sight (60 miles - 17:52). I have some coke, refuel bottles, and on the road again.

The course climbs another half mile, veers to the left, and begins descending. I am awake again and reassured after having reached the aid station. Now the course takes us 8 miles downhill on hard-pack dirt road. Should be a quick section, but my knee decided to hurt again and my pre-dawn pees set in. I lose a lot of time stopping to massage the knee, walk, and pee. Al has long since pulled ahead and Angela and friend pass me during all this.

Kachess Lake (mile 68 – 19:43) and I am still right at 2 hours ahead of cut-off. Robert is there to help again. I have been carrying my extra clothes all night and never even considered using them. I was so cold pacing Moogy last year in the upcoming section that I hated to take the chance of dropping my warm clothes. I asked an aid station person, and she did not feel that the weather would change much between here and Thorp Mountain. So I dropped the Nathan pack, keeping just my GoLite jacket and the Moben sleeves and gloves. I switched out the 10 LED light for the 5 LED as it should soon be light. I have a grilled cheese sandwich that really hits the spot, refuel the bottles, and leave with 2 Spiz and 2 Heed.

Robert went out with me down the road to the beginning of the "Trail from Hell". He has been so much help to me. "I think I can pull this thing off," I say to him as I move on.

Entering the trail from hell is a small scramble up a dirt path to a section that is not much more than a bushwack. It is almost light, but the flashlight still helps out somewhat in the tree cover. The first ½-mile to mile (it is hard to judge at this mental state and the condition of the trail) is basically a narrow cut into the slope of the mountainside. There are many fallen trees to go over or under, the quads not too crazy about either choice. I maneuver this for a while, then the trail picks up a wide, groomed section, but as I remember from last year, not for long. The rest of this section is not as tricky as the first part, but still is rocky, gnarly section with short steep ups and downs and fallen trees to navigate. It hugs the side of Kachess Lake and I am looking for the log Lynn B. helped me cross last year. It is a huge log/tree, maybe 12-18 inches and rather flat on the top side, but has an 8-12 inch tall limb/stump about ¾ of the way across. The creek is maybe 15 feet below. You can cross by going down and up the creek bed about 10 yards further down the trail. I opted for this crossing (as Moogy did last year) even though I had been all year training for the log by walking on curbs and jumping over imaginary bumps. But the bump was much taller than I remembered and the legs were to tired to risk it. I had been wondering if this is Mineral Creek. RD Charlie had said we would get out feet wet there, but it was easy enough to cross without getting wet. Further up the trail I come across Chi Ping sitting on a log. He snaps a picture of me and we chat for a bit. He asks me to notify the next aid station that he is dropping. I try to encourage him that he still has plenty of time, but he had started the race less than healed from an injury and was quite happy to have come this far, enjoying friends and scenery, and not make things any worse. I finally arrive at Mineral Creek, which does require wading across and soon arrive at Mineral Creek aid station (mile 73 – 22:30)

I opt for dry shoes (switching to the Merrill Overdrive) and socks here and make another attempt to get a bandage to stick to my open blister on the top of my foot. It is not real big but is painful. I am hoping that the different shoes will rub in new blisters instead of making the current ones worse. The inner heels and balls of feet are annoying and I hope I am now in damage control. While working on this, I do the math in my head. 27 miles left and 9 hours to do them. Although I am over an hour ahead of cut-off, my brain comes up with 15-minute miles. Holy shit, I gotta get moving. I ask an aid station worker if he thinks I have a chance to finish in time, and he says yes, but that I would need to be moving. I have told them about Fu Chihping, but he arrives in the aid station just as I am ready to leave. So I finish topping off my bottles, grab the Spiz and Heed from my bag and put the wet shoes away, grab something to eat, and get the hell out of Dodge. The next section is a climb on a dirt road. Crew access is 2 miles up the road, so I figure I need to be there in 30 minutes. I see a road, but no Robert or the squatty little PT Cruiser we have as a rental. I hate to miss him, but I cannot wait. Ten more minutes up the trail, I see him and 2 friends he has acquired. If it is taking me that long to do 2 miles, I am screwed. So I not so politely tell him I am afraid I am not gonna make cut-off, give me some cliff shots, and I need to get on going. He cannot find cliff shots, the blocks are what I want even though I said shots, and keep on moving as he sends me on my way with a puzzled look on his face. I catch someone on the climb, he says he was at this point at about the same time last year, and finished in plenty of time. I am still not convinced, as I am not sure if I will be able to run the downhills or not. I am also quite concerned about trying to keep up this pace with so many hours still to go. The runner cautions me to keep fueling so I do not bonk, and I heed his advice. I pass the unmanned water station about halfway through this section, top off, and keep going. Finally arriving at No Name Ridge aid station (mile 80 – 24:32), I watch the last piece of bread go to someone else, but a turkey and cheese roll-up without bread sounds good to me. There are other runners resting here, none of whom seem particularly in a hurry. I am 1 hour ahead of this cut-off. But I do my bottles and get out as quickly as I can.

The course finally turns off the road onto trail again, leading up to Thorp Mountain. It is about 26 hours into the race and 6 hours to cut-off, and I decide to go ahead and do some ibuprofen the help with the quads on the upcoming downhills. The feet are not bothering me much; I am focused on the clock. I reach the Thorp Mountain AS where one can drop the pack for a ½ mile out and back to the top of the mountain. I am still pushing hard and passing runners here and there. At the top, I enjoy the beautiful view of Mt. Ranier, and briefly chat with a guy who is also concerned about the finish cut-off. After all this, I want that damn buckle!! I get back to aid station, mile 84, get my stuff, nibble some munchies and see the lady I saw at the packet pick up at the start and of whom I requested good views at the top this year. I thanked her for them and she smiled and said, "Oh that was you! Are you coming back next year?" I reply, "This is not a good time to ask that question. I am not done having the baby yet."

On the way again, it is time for the last of the big climbs, the cardiac needles. It is a beautiful but difficult section. I took Moogy's photo in this section last year, and it has been on my screen saver since, but I am not quite able to recognize the exact spot. After a couple of the climbs, I ask a runner if he know for sure if these are the needles, or are they after the next aid station. He says they are after. Holy smokes. How am I gonna do this? However, another runner I encounter just before French Cabin aid station assures me we are in the needles. There are 3 before and one after French Cabin. During the nice downhill into French Cabin (mile 88 - 27:24), I keep thinking I am seeing the aid station, but I think some of the glimpses of large white rocks through the trees were playing tricks on my feeble brain. I finally do arrive to a friendly group of volunteers, and have one of the best things I have ever had at an aid station, a bacon and grilled cheese sandwich on whole wheat. Wow, it was good!!

I leave there with 88 miles done, and a slight rain starts. It actually feels pretty good, but knowing that a mountain rain can turn very cold, I decide to stop and put on my go-lite rain jacket. The fellow who was correct about the cardiac needles catches up to me and points out a saddle and the last needle AND the last climb of the race! Sweet! I am starting to get hot in the jacket. (I had run up to this point including all night with just a short sleeve shirt and shorts.) The rain has let up though, so I stop to remove the jacket. Past the last of the needles, there is mainly a series of downhills. A guy named Dennis, who I had passed earlier, now passes me, having found his second wind. We feed off each other's energy and run off and on together for the remaining miles. It has now become apparent that I am able to run the downhill, and time is not so pressing. We went though a section where there had been an avalanche during the winter, and had a bit more log crawling. And finally we arrive at the steep downhill switchbacks leading to the last aid station. Dennis keeps saying there are only about 2 more switchbacks, but they keep coming for a long time. The trail finally levels out at we arrive at Silver Creek aid station (mile 95 – 29:40). I think I hear the aid station lady say they have no food, so I reach for my Cliff Blocks. The aid station guy says, "You gonna eat that? How about some brie?" I look around and there is all kinds of yummy food. So I have some brie and crackers. I should have asked for wine, they probably would have had it!! Dennis and I head out together and soon come upon dusty road beneath some power lines. We have plenty of time now, Dennis says go on as he just does not like this stuff, and I am ready to get this done. I run/walk as best I can and pass one more person that is content to walk in. Next there is a short wooded section near the highway, then the course follows the access road for maybe a mile. It is lightly raining again by this time, but who cares? I hook a right onto grass/rocks and follow the railroad tracks another quarter mile or so to the finish at the fire station. I pass by Shawn. He cheers and says, "You are the baddest lady I know!" I reply, "I am the tiredest lady you know!" Then I see Robert at the finish. He snaps my picture, gives me a hug, and gets a picture of Charlie presenting me with my buckle and a print by Leah Jurek. What a long strange trip it's been!! 100 miles, 30 hours, 42 minutes and 4 seconds!

At the fire station, volunteers wait on you hand and foot with buckets of water to wash your feet, food, congratulations, etc. I am a good girl and drink my Endurox before my beer. I figured I had better have that Endurox if I wanted to walk again in the near future!

I would highly recommend this event. The course is beautiful and challenging, the organization and aid stations are great, and Charlie and goes out of his way to make all feel welcomed.

Click to see more photos.

Traverse Trail Running- Article about Brad

2008-09-13T11:23:00.001-05:00