Finally after getting the runaround with doctors and tests, the verdict is in:  I have a bad stress fracture on my tibia about three inches below the knee.  The fracture seems to be about 3-4 inches long across the bone.  It was frustrating that it took so long to get a definitive diagnosis, but I also had hammered my knee very bad and it took 7 weeks for that pain to go down.  An MRI concentrated on the knee and only after I asked the doctor twice to look very close at the pictures again did he see the fracture down below.  It also lit up like a light bulb in a bone scan.

So, I could be out another 4-8 weeks.  I’m betting on 8.    I cancelled plans to race until August.

Lessons learned.

• Don’t run 100 miles on a busted leg.  That was by far the most painful experience in my life.  Pretty crazy.  But I got that 500-mile Rocky Racoon jacket!  Ya, right.
• I broke one of my rules about racing with an injury.  I could tell that the pain I felt was out of the ordinary but I went ahead and ran 100 miles on a fracture.  I think it made a one inch fracture turn into 3-4 inches.
• I’ve learned what bone pain feels like and should have pressed the doctors for an immediate bone scan so I could have started early treating it right.   I probably set back my recovery a few weeks because I thought it was just a soft tissue problem.
• Don’t run in shoes that allow me to over-pronate.  Don’t run barefoot or walk around barefoot so much.  All my damage was to the medial (inside) side of my leg due to over-pronation.
• There are far more important things in life than running.  Down time is a blessing to refocus and do other things for awhile. 

One lone trekking pole by the fireplace

I haven’t yet posted my Rocky Raccoon 100 report, but may still once the story is complete.  In short, I tried to run RR100 with some leg pain left over from Across the Years.  The hope was that the problem was minor and would calm down and go away during the race.  By mile 8, things did feel much better, but by mile 40, I knew it would be a painful finish if I continued.  I did continue and finished my 5^th RR100 in my slowest time ever.  The last 20 miles took 8.5 hours and I used trekking poles like crutches.  I promised myself that I would stop if my knee swelled up.   It never did much so I continued to the finish, and later was pushed through the airport in a wheel chair.

It wasn’t a very smart decision.  Hey, but I did get my 500-mile RR jacket, and I did finish my 48th 100-miler, and I did extend a string of 30 100-mile finishes without a DNF.  Normally I’m running again within five days.  Two weeks later, I can still barely walk and it is pretty painful.   Running is out of the question.  So, what do you do next?

1. Put away thoughts that I will be a cripple for life.   This one is tough to do.  I’ve joked with my family that just like Tiny Tim, when I am gone, they will remember me by one lone trekking pole by the fireplace.
2. Go visit the doctor.  I did and the X-rays looked fine, but X-rays can’t detect recent stress fractures.  At least it showed me that my knee is not bone-on-bone yet.  The structure all looked good.
3. Research.   I’ve learned more about knee and lower leg anatomy than I ever dreamed I would.  I’m pretty sure I know more about it than my general family doctor.   This is good, it has really helped me classify my problems and search for treatments.
4. Visit a specialist.   I finally went to my orthopedic surgeon, who scoped the same knee in 2003.  Physical tests of bending the leg were good.   I’m hopeful that there isn’t anything serious.
5. Get an MRI.  Done and waiting for results.  I’m hoping and praying that I won’t need surgery again.

So, I’m waiting for answers.   My biggest problem seems to be bursitis in two bursae below the knee.  These can get badly inflamed by over-use, but can also be a signal for more serious issues with the meniscus.   I’m hoping that it is just bursitis which can quickly be helped with shots.   We shall see soon.

However, mentally, I’ve just been preparing myself to face a long period without running, or maybe a retirement from ultrarunning.   It is a difficult mental process because ultrarunning has been an important part of my life for seven years now and I think I got pretty good at it.   This has been a great lesson on patience and life priorities.  There are far more things important than running.  I need to take care of those.   I can live without running but other things can’t.

Update

Well, believe it or not, the MRI came back fine.  Great news!  My ortho mostly laughed as he listened and talked to me about what I do.  After he discovered that I have run 23,000 miles since he fixed up my knee in 2003, he bragged to his receptionists.  I asked him specifically if I’ve damaged the knee at all from my running.  He said the MRI just shows what he did with the surgery, no new problems.   So what have I done?  “Overuse.”  He couldn’t rule out a stress fracture, but didn’t seem very concerned about doing anything more to find it.  He did say that he should have ordered a brain scan.

He prescribed a steriod to be taken this week which should bring down all the swelling and solve the bursitus.   As we walked down the hall to the front desk, he yelled out and pointed to me limping, “I didn’t do this to him!  He did it to himself.”   He got me crutches for the next few days.   Hopefully I’ll start mending now.

Update 2

The steriod didn’t help at all and affected a kidney.   I had terrible reactions like passing a kidney stone.  Thankfully things calmed down after I went off it.  A few days later I started to see real improvements, and now 4 weeks after RR100, I can finally walk normally again, but still with pain.  I returned my rented crutches.  Little milestones like that make me happy. Swimming is fine and eliptical can be tolerated.  Running is still far away.  I’ve been having many running dreams lately, far more than I would when I could run.

For the serious runner, an injury that causes you to halt the activity that you love, can be a pretty frustrating experience.  But if you push the limits often, injuries are bound to happen, and right now I’m dealing with it.  Across The Years 48-hour run has left me with a sore knee/leg that really taking its time to heal.   I drive down the road and see happy, healthy runners going by, looking at them in envy.  But I tell myself, “rest is good, be patient.”  Nevertheless, I have nagging irrational thoughts that my competitive running days may be over. 

As an older (53-year-old) runner, I think I’ve been extremely lucky in avoiding injury over the past several years.  During my first two years of running back in 2002-2003, injury was common as I was trying to build up my mileage base and trying to go further than I should too soon.   But I’ve learned from my mistakes, learned a lot about training, learned a lot about my body, and have been mostly injury-free.   In fact it was been 20 months since I had to cut my monthly miles below 200 miles because of an injury and even that month I ran 197.  This month will very likely come in less than 200.

When I started pressing for distances in 2002, I was over-weight and under-trained.  My first injury was typical, terrible ITB and bad knee-cap bruising (underside).  My next injury was major, I tore my meniscus, probably skiing – just too overweight.  After surgery and impatient recovery, I discovered my ITB problem was finally gone.  But for the next two years, my knee made me believe I would never be able to run fast.  In fact the surgeon told me to give up any running.  In mid-2004, I discovered ultrarunning, finishing or DNFing in dead last place.   After my first 100-mile attempt, my other knee was terribly sore for more than a month but didn’t have serious damage.   I began to wonder if running just wasn’t in the cards for me.

But instead of feeling sorry for myself and giving up, I instead got smarter.  I learned how to carefully train, ease up my miles, and listen to my body more.   Since that time my injuries have been fairly minor, even with running more than 50 100-milers.   My knee has always been a limiting factor, but I’ve been careful and have had long periods of months where it hasn’t bothered me at all.   Thinking back, I’ve only had a few injuries that have cut back my training for more than a couple weeks.  In early 2010, I jumped off a rock while training in the dark and twisted my ankle pretty bad.  Later the peroneal tendon became badly inflamed.  I’ve spent time in a boot several times resting that, and if I step on a rock the wrong way, it can again be a problem.  But I deal with it.   My knee has been an issue.  After one of my 80-mile Grand Canyon adventures, running with a 10-15 pound pack, my knee came away with fluid.  It took a good month or so to calm down.  In 2011, I busted my hand during Bighorn 100.  No big deal, I don’t run on my hands.

Here are some of the things I do which help keep me mostly injury free

• I always rest at least one day per week.  For most weeks I rest two days.  In 2011, I rested about 150 days, so averaged nearly three days per week.  But I still nearly ran 4,000 miles.
• I don’t follow a regimented training plan that maps out the miles I “need” to run each day.  Instead, I run when I feel like it, and rest when I don’t.  I will go into a week, hoping to run a certain amount of miles during the week, and certainly will push myself toward that goal.  But I’ll change plans if it seems like I should do less, or increase plans if it feels like I can do more.
• I avoid doing long runs (over 15 miles) in worn-out shoes.
• I’ve learned the difference between discomfort and true injury, and generally know when I can keep pushing through something without doing real damage.
• I try to have good running form, watching myself run on a treadmill with a mirror helps.
• I DON’T run barefoot, I haven’t bought into that craze.  Why should I, if I don’t get injured much? But I have developed tough feet that rarely blister if I have good shoes.
• I avoid getting too dehydrated. I know the signs that warn me. However, I have trained my body to handle dehydration well.  Avoiding dehydration helps avoid injury.
• Possible injury?  When in doubt, rest.
• I rarely stretch before and after running and think it is a waste of time.  I can warm up and cool down while running.
• If I have a badly sore muscle after a long run, I don’t risk a muscle pull.  I rest until most of the soreness is gone.
• I don’t use orthotics, but I rarely use standard insoles that come with new shoes.  I alter insoles to fit my feet better and help my right foot avoid over-pronating.
• I gave up my favorite sports of my youth, basketball and skiing.  Too much risk of injury.
• I do some cross-training for upper-body and core.

When I have been injured I do this:

• Try not to get depressed.  Do other things.
• Swim.  I keep my fitness by hitting the pool and stretching toward ultra-distance swimming, up to 4 miles in one workout.  I also use floats to do “pool running” do kicking to keep the leg muscles happy.
• When I swim,I put sleeves on my knees (simple knee brace) to keep the knee caps firmly in place.   All the kicking tends to get the knee caps loose which cause problems when running….knee caps won’t track right and get sore.
• Patience.
• Don’t try to start training again too soon.  But at times easing into it soon helps the recovery and healing speed up.
• Go help with a race.  Help other people be happy running.
• Get help from a doctor that understands long distance running.  My current doctor even reads my blog.  I have a general practitioner, a podiatrist, and an orthopedic specialist.  I haven’t used a physical therapist nor a chiropractor.
• I do consult the Internet and call that using Dr. Crockpot….me and the Internet.
• I avoid cross-training with elipticals or stationary bikes.  The models in my rec center all position the feet too far apart, much further than when I run, causing the wrong angle for knees and hips.   Using them for long periods would start hurting.

To close out 2011, I again ran in Across the Years (ATY), a fixed-time race held in Glendale, Arizona.  For a fixed-time race, the objective is to run as many miles as you can within a given period of time.  The clock is always ticking.  You can take rests along the way, but the clock never stops.  At ATY, there are three different races, running concurrently, 24-hours, 48-hours, and 72-hours.   This year I again decided to enter the 48-hour race.   Last year I also ran for 48-hours and came away with a surprising 187 miles, good enough for the overall win.

This year I set my sights on running 200 miles in 48-hours.  I really thought it was within the reach of my abilities, and if I could achieve that, I would likely win the race again.  But I had experienced a rather disappointing year in my races.  Sure, I had finished nine 100-mile races without a DNF this year, but my times were all slower this year and I began to wonder if my age (53) was really finally slowing me down once and for all.   My speed during my last 100-mile race was disappointing and it seemed that being able to run 100 miles in less than 20 hours was a thing of the past for me. 

For the past two months, I had trained very hard, running more miles in a two-month stretch than I ever had in my life. I even had six consecutive weeks of more than 100 training miles. I added core and upper-body workouts and came into the race, likely in the best shape of my life and injury-free.  I was focused and determined.

This year, ATY was being held for the first time at Camelback Ranch, the spring training facility for the Los Angeles Dodgers.   We would run on a wonderful wide 1.05-mile dirt path loop (with a couple hundred yards of pavement.)   I’m asked, “Isn’t it boring running in circles?”  Perhaps for some, but this type of race feeds my completive spirit.  It is me against the clock, and at times me against other competitors.  My mind is in constant motion, and the time flies by as I concentrate on doing the things needed to keep my pace going and reach my goals.

I flew to Arizona with my son Kevin who would be running in his first 24-hour race.  We checked in at race headquarters and set up our personal aid station near the edge of the track, complete with table, chairs and a tent.  For the first day, Kevin would “crew” me, assisting me during my stops and filling my fluid bottles.  On the second day, Kevin would run his race, so on Day 2, we would both be running on the track.

This year in the 48-hour race, there would be a larger field, 44 runners from all over the country and world.   It looked like I had three key competitors, Tom Jackson, a close friend who married into the family of my best friend from high school.  Tom is a few years younger and usually beats me in the 100-milers that we run, but he was a rookie to fixed-time racing, so didn’t have the experience to help. He did follow my progress very carefully last year, so knew what it took to do well.   Matt Watts, another close friend could run big miles.   He isn’t speedy, but he is very steady.  Even when he can no longer run, he can walk at 15-minute-mile forever.   Kermit Cuff is a talented runner who had beat me at Moab 100 a few years ago.  He could also put up big miles.   I thought that between the four of us, one of us would come out victorious.  Between us, we had more than one hundred 100-mile finishes. It is interesting to consider that all four of us are over 50 years old, Tom being the youngest.   There was one other wildcard in the race, a young, fast runner, Luis Miral.   But it appeared that he had never run more than 50 miles, so I predicted that he would stay close to me early, but later fade.

The evening before the race, Kevin and I enjoyed going to a Phoenix Suns game and then we settled down for the night at a motel.   Unfortunately during the day, I was hit by a bad cold.  All night I suffered from a terrible sinus headache, causing me to wake up over and over again.  I knew I desperately needed a good night’s rest, but it didn’t come.

I felt somewhat better in the morning as we made our way to Camelback Ranch.  I was surprised to see frost on the grass and I hoped that cool temperatures would continue, but I knew the forecast called for heat for the next couple days.   Last year it had rained nearly the entire first day and was bitter cold the next.  Things would be much different this year.   Kevin and I finished setting up our aid station and I was ready to go.

For Day 1 we had about 130 runners start, all the 72-hour runners, the first group of 48-hour runners, and the first group of 24-hours.   On Day 2, another group of 48-hour runners would start, and Kevin would run his 24-hour race.  The Day 2 48-hour runners would have an advantage of knowing how far the Day 1 runners had gone, but we were all in the same race.

My objective for the first 24-hours was to run nearly 120 miles.   I believed if I could do that, my goal of 200 miles would be within a realistic reach.   However, I knew that for me, anything beyond 100 miles was a mystery.   I was confident in my ability to reach 100 miles, but beyond that is tough, so many factors could affect me.  I would just do my best and try very hard to minimize my stop time.

I always start out pretty fast, and sure enough I completed the first loop ahead of all the other 130 runners (24-hour, 48-hour, 72-hour).  I lapped my first runners on my second loop.  Many would walk every step.  I enjoyed the track, it was very nice and there was plenty to see running by the ball fields and ponds.  On the downside, there was almost zero shade.  We would be exposed to the hot Arizona sun for the entire day.

Running hard, passing runners

At the end of each loop, we could see a real-time board that would show the latest several runners completing that lap, so I could check on my pace and a few other runners around me.  Unfortunately they never displayed a leader board for us, which made it hard to tell where our competition was.   If I wanted to know for sure, I would complete a loop behind a person and then check out their mileage and pace on the board.

Pond on Cammelback Ranch

I held the overall lead on mileage for a few laps, but then Joe Fejes, a 72-hour runner passed me going very fast.   He would soon be lapping me, going at a blistering fast pace for a 72-hour runner.   Last year I led all 72-hour runners for my entire 48-hours.   Joe had his sights to break the ATY 72-hour record of over 330 miles.   One Day 1 he would lap me over and over again, run 133 miles, and go on to win the 72-hour race with 280 miles.

As I had predicted, Luis Miral, the young, fast, 37-year-old in the 48-hour race was keeping pace with me and he eventually went ahead and lapped me.  I was never really concerned but kept track of his progress.

View of one of the many ball fields from the trail

My pace was strong, but the heat of the day was getting to me immediately.  It got up to about 72 degrees, but it felt like 85.  My early laps were fast, I didn’t record my first lap over 10 minutes until mile 18.  Laps over 11-minutes started to happen at mile 25.  For each lap, I could stop at my personal aid station to grab something.  I probably stopped way too often, but it was nice to have anything I really needed so close.

ATY is a very social event for most of the runners, but I was so focused on my race, that I didn’t spend much time chatting, other than a quick hello or wave as I would lap runners.   I did run with Tom Jackson at times for a little while as we encouraged each other and caught up on our mutual friends.   Tom was running in 3^rd place, several laps behind me and Luis.

I reached the marathon distance at 3:54, and 50K at 4:50, slower than last year, but right on the pace I hoped for. With the heat of the afternoon my lap times were creeping over 12 minutes.  I reached the 50-mile mark at about 8:32, about a half hour slower than planned.  But at dusk, the temperatures dropped and my speed increased.  I was able to find sub-10-minute pace for a few laps and was feeling much better.  Kevin went for a pizza run, bringing back a nice dinner.  He was enjoying watching the race and getting excited about his own race to start in the morning.

At the 12-hour mark, I had reached mile 66 and was close to my schedule again.   It was so nice to be running in cool weather again.  At mile 68, at about 9:30 p.m., I told Kevin, “I’m going to try to run a fast lap.”   I turned on the jets and Kevin moved over to the screen to see how I did.  My pace was 10:17, but it felt like I was flying, because I was “sprinting” past all the other runners around me, even Joe.  Mile 72 was a fast 9:52 mile.  It was at that point, that I passed Luis for 1^st place.   It appeared that he had been taking longer stops.  My lead grew fast.

Tom Jackson running strong earlier in the day

As I lapped Tom Jackson again, I let him know that he was in 3^rd place.  He was about a mile ahead of several other runners, but probably about seven miles behind me.  I reached the 100K mark at about 11:03.   I told Kevin to post that on my Facebook, mentioning that I had reached 100K and had only thrown up three times so far.  I was now 23 minutes behind my goal pace, but doing fine.   Runners started to disappear from the track for the night as they turned in to sleep, but about half of us continued on.   I was one of the few runners actually still running.

Board showing my 100 miles and huge lead over Tom and other 48-hour runners (in green)

During the night, I focused on reaching a personal record (PR) for the 100-mile distance.   My pace was slowing, but was pretty consistent, between 13-14-minute pace, including stops.  I didn’t push too hard, just kept the pace going.  I reached 100 miles at 19:40, about six minutes faster than last year, a PR for 100 miles!   I was pleased, and it brought new confidence to me.  I next set my sights on the 24-hour mark.

Kevin woke up at 7:30 a.m. and started to get ready for his race.   Matt Watts also arrived to start his 48-hours.   Part-way through a lap, I could hear a horn at the start blowing for the next race to start.   I had run 117.8 mile during the first 24-hours!  More than a mile further than last year.   (It turned out that if I would have run the 24-hour race, I would have been the men’s champion of that huge race of 140 runners.  One elite woman runner, Anna Piskorska, would run 122 miles.)  Despite the heat, it had been a good day.

Soon all the Day 2 runners came running toward me.  Every four hours we changed directions, so when I finished that lap, I would change to run the same direction as these new starters.  It was fun to see all the new fast runners on the track.   I hoped that all the 48-hour runners noticed how many miles I had already run.   I had about an 11-mile lead on Tom Jackson who was now in 2^nd place.  When we ran together he congratulated me and thought that the lead was much too large to overcome.  I hoped that was true, but knew that the real race is determined by Day 2.  Anything could happen.

Painful toe - many more miles to run on it

I soon stopped for a long 20 minutes to do foot care and change my shoes.  That turned out to be a big mistake because I changed into my road shoes which didn’t have enough toe box room because my feet at swelled a little.  Within ten miles, one of my big toes would be shredded, and I had to make another long stop to repair things and change into a 3^rd pair of shoes.

Kevin was doing great running his race.  He lapped me a couple times but then I didn’t see him for a long time because our pace was nearly the same.  He was somewhere on the opposite side of the course.  We were able to run with each other for a couple laps.   I also enjoyed running a bit with buddies Paul Grimm and Matt Watts who would always make me laugh.

Things started to really crumble around me by noon.  The heat of the day slammed me. I became nauseous and experienced low energy.  Finally I had to lie down in a shady spot near the pond.  Runners would keep asking me if I was OK.

Garmin track

For much of the afternoon, I went very slowly and runners around me passed me over and over again asking if I was OK.   At about 3 p.m., I stopped at the air-conditioned restroom and ended up just lying on the floor for about 15 minutes trying to bring down my body temperature.  I wasn’t thinking very straight.  My goal for 200 miles was slipping away, but I should have next focused on keeping my 48-hour lead.   I still had a big lead.   I could have put together a good strategy to keep it, but I didn’t.  I should have gone and sat in my air-conditioned car for a half hour to recover, but I didn’t.   I pushed on.  My stomach was in bad shape.  The only thing I could tolerate was pieces of pumpkin pie at the aid stations.

Next, I experienced terrible knee pain.  If I stopped, it was stiffen up terribly, causing me to walk for a half mile until it loosened up again.  This was very discouraging.  As the sun started to set, I concluded that this just wasn’t working right any more.  I couldn’t continue doing 18-minute laps and hope to win this race, so I stopped to try to take a nap in my tent at mile 142.  I put in ear plugs and rested for more than an hour.  I hoped for cooler temperatures, but inside my tent it stayed warm.  Finally I got up, and feeling somewhat better, I hit the track again at 6 p.m.

I now had less than a two-mile lead over Tom.   He was going strong, doing sub-15 loops.   I had to stop again to do foot-care, and finally Tom lapped me again and took the lead at about the 145-mile mark.  I knew that it was his race to win now.  Each time he passed me, he was a champ and slowed down to run with me, to discuss my challenges and offer suggestions.

I knew my race was just about done.  My lap times were going over 20 minutes.  At one point I threw up very violently, leaving me with a very sore stomach.  This had been about the sixth time I had thrown up.  It was now cooler, but the heat had done its damage.  I had told many runners that I would take the cold rain from last year any day.  They would look at me like I was crazy.

Drowsiness slammed me.   One runner mentioned that I looked like a drunk.  I was stumbling along, my head would droop down, falling toward the ground over and over again, and I would weave back and forth.  My pace was very slow.  Mile 149 took 24 minutes.

Finally at 8:30 p.m., I was finished.   I had reached 150 miles and that was fine.  I was too sick and sleepy to continue.   I got in my tent and called my wife to say I was finished. I was content.  Kevin was still going strong and hoped to reach 80 miles.  I again put in ear plugs and tried to find sleep.  It was terribly uncomfortable to be a sweaty mess in my sleeping bag, but I didn’t have the strength to go out and try to wash up.   Rest came, and I must have found a little sleep because the hours passed quickly.

Finally at about midnight, I saw a shadow on the tent.  Kevin was making another visit.  I took out my ear plugs and asked how he was doing.   He was slowing and had made a visit to the warming tent.   Again just like last year, I quickly decided that it was stupid to quit, so I got up and got ready. It helped that I hated to lie in my sweaty mess. It took me a half hour to get ready because I had to change into yet another pair of shoes and do careful foot taping.   The crew next to us was surprised to see me getting ready to leave again.  One lady had mentioned to Kevin that she was very worried about me, that I looked terrible.  Kevin told her not to worry, that it was normal.  One major problem was that my cold had worked its way into my lungs so I was hacking up stuff, making gross noises.

At 12:30 a.m., I was back at it and felt 100% better.   My stomach was finally OK again and I could run.  I soon was running sub-11-minute loops which was a huge difference compared to most of the others plodding along at 20-minute loops.  I was running so fast, that I took off my jacket and was the only one on the track running in shorts and short sleeves.

I got lots of compliments.   It was super fun and I was so pleased to feel well again.   Where was Tom?  He wasn’t on the track.   Since they didn’t have a leader board, I didn’t know how far ahead he was.  Could I catch up to him?  Maybe there was still hope!   I did some calculations and believed that reaching last year’s 187 miles was out of the question now, the best I could hope for now was 180 miles after that 4.5 hour rest.

Several laps later, I passed a runner. It was Tom.   I slowed down to run the rest of the lap with him.  He had been taking a nap in the warming tent.   I was at 157 miles, he was at 172 miles.  That was very discouraging to hear, but I was pleased for Tom.  We focused on how far Tom could get.   He thought he could still get into the 190s.   I encouraged him on.  There were a couple day-two starters that could catch him, including Kermit Cuff, but I told him that in most years if a runner goes over 180 miles, he wins.  Tom said I looked much better, that the last time he had seen me I looked very pale and probably had a fever.

My motivation and leg pain took a hit and my laps slowed.    I knew there was now no hope in getting the win.  So I just tried to enjoy the rest of the race and see how many miles I could do.   My pace for the rest of the race was better than Tom’s, I did lap him a couple times, but he was solid.  At mile 162, I went into the warming tent for a couple minutes to rest my eyes.  Tom was sitting there and very soon Kevin came in too and announced he was finished. He had reached 62 miles, a great effort.  He had never run over 50 miles before.   He had set PR times for 50K and 50 miles.  I was proud of him.  He said that many times runners would come up behind him, see Crockett on his bib and ask if he was related to me.

As dawn arrived, Tom and I ran parts of several laps together.   Others came out on the track.  Kevin appeared with his towel under his arm, ready for a shower.  I told him to put that off, come and run several more laps.   He did and reached 66.    Tom reached 187.95 miles, just a little further than I did last year.  He would worry about the Day 2, runners, but none of them would catch either of us.  (Matt Watts decided to make this a vacation, and after running 40 miles, went back to his motel for about 16 hours.   He still reached 144 miles.  I know he could have won it if he would have really wanted it.   Kermit Cuff’s pace was ahead of mine at 150 miles, but he would falter and stop at 162.7 miles.)

The morning was beautiful and I had great fun talking to other runners and joking with them during my final hour, taking pictures and video  My last two lap times were good, 15:42 and 14:35.

I reached 174.30 miles, 2nd place, very respectable, I’m pleased.   I knew that only one person older than me had even run further than 174 miles at ATY-48.  My 174 miles was also an ATY-48 record for a 53-year old.  My name is now listed for the most miles for age 52 and 53.

Board showing my final lap

That last 24 miles took its toll.   My right leg was in rough shape, injured.  I had just tried to shut off the pain.  As I would be walking along, I would say, “Let’s go, ignore it!” and then start running at 10:00 pace for awhile.  Usually the pain would calm down while running faster.

I felt pretty fine after finishing and enjoyed watching the Day 3 24-hour runners start the race.   I also bid good-bye to many of the runners still on the track.   Kevin and I went and took a shower and then lay down in the shade of our tent and table, finding a little restless sleep.

But soon it became very hot, pushing 80 degrees, so we scrambled to pack our things up and head to the airport. At the airport, Kevin and I were quite the sight.   We both could hardly walk.  Doing it again, I should have just asked for a wheel chair.   I could hardly walk at all, in terrible pain.

Once home, I felt worse than I had after any race.   My body had been slammed by heat, miles, and terrible leg pain. 24 hours later as I tracked the conclusion of the race online, I felt much better but still can hardly walk.

Looking back, I was a little disappointed, but I know that any distance above 100 miles is a mystery.   Tom was able to handle the heat and sleep deprivation better than me.  I’m now convinced that I need to plan for at least a 4-hour rest and just schedule that into my plan.   I am very proud of my Day 1 accomplishment and look forward to racing a 24-hour race in the near future to see what I can really do if 24-hours if I push hard.

Each dot is a lap in minute-miles. Shows things fell apart about mile 140

48-hour results

Usually the day after Thanksgiving, I find myself down in the Grand Canyon.  This year I decided to stay closer to home and not risk injuring my problem knee from steep pounding downhills.  For this year’s Black Friday adventure, I chose to travel two hours to Price Utah, and run up on a mesa north of the town, on the Western Book Cliff Mountain Bike trails.  These trails have been developed by the Price Area Single Track Society (PASS).

I left home at about 4:30 a.m. and as I drove through Spanish Fork, I chuckled to see huge crowds of people in line out in the dark, cold, in front of the local Kmart.  I just don’t understand it.  But I guess most of them wouldn’t understand what I was going to do.

At 7 a.m., I was at the Luke’s Trail Trailhead about 500 feet or so above Price.  The trailhead is only about a mile from town, very easy to drive to.  The temperature was chilly, 25 degrees as dawn arrived, so I dressed pretty warmly.

I planned to run the largest loop on the mesa.  It runs out on the rim and circumnavigate most of the mesa, presenting great views of the valleys below.  Most of the trail is rolling, twisty, single track that runs through juniper and pinon pine.  I planned to run in a counter-clockwise direction.

I quickly found the right trail.  There were many small signs along the way identifying the trails by name.  I started out on the Knott Petes Rim trail that winded on the south rim above the neighborhoods of Price.  After a couple miles, I discovered that I forgot to put my map in my pocket.  Oh well, I would have to do this by memory.  That makes it a little more challenging and fun.  I just made sure I was aware of all the directions, where the sun was rising and I knew that I should generally heading north toward the Book Cliffs.

I was having a wonderful time, all alone on the trail.  My pace for solo adventure runs is typically pretty easy.  I take time to see the sights, take pictures, and just enjoy the day.  My average pace for the day was 13-minute pace, although at times I was speeding down that trail at 7:30 pace.

The trail rolled up and down, but as I headed north, there was a constant slight climb.  My start altitude was about 6,000 feet.  My high-point would be 6,800 feet.   I climbed about 3,000 feet total along the way.

A unique sign post

At about mile 3.7, I took a wrong turn at a very strange looking sign that pointed in every direction.  In about a mile, I realized my goof, but I didn’t mind.  This would be fun to just explore.  It turned out I ran on a rough road just a few feet away from the single-track I should have been on.   I generally stayed on course and the few signs helped me figure things out.  By the end of my run I knew the area very well.

Town of Kenilworth

As I reached the far north end of the mesa, I could look down on the small town of Kenilworth.  This is a small coal-mining town.  The mine is no longer in operation and the town is in decline.  180 people live there now.  At its peak, over 1,000 people lived there in 1947.  It is a beautiful location at the base of the Book Cliffs.

My favorite sections of my run were on the Shamrock & Roll trail that runs along the northern rim, offering spectacular views.  On the way back, I ran on Yoo Hoo which had the most technical sections, some steeper ups and downs and nice rocks to jump on and around.  I knew that I was running that section far faster than mountain bikes could.  I was having a blast.  It dumped out into a gorge that winded downhill with a wash and eventually the trail headed back up to the top of the mesa.

One of the many oil pumps with Wasatch range behind

I was uncertain of my exact location but just soon found the “Bonus Loop” which clued me in where I was.  I couldn’t find Luke’s Trail that I knew connected to the loop, but I eventually connected back to a trail called Smo Joes and noticed my own foot prints.  So for the last few miles of the morning I just ran back the way I came.

I reached my car after a 16-mile run and took a 20-minute break, eating, drinking, and changing my shoes.  By 11:30 a.m. I was running again, this time on Luke’s Trail, on the west side of the Mesa.  The wind was really kicking up and since I was now in shorts and short sleeves, it felt somewhat chilly, although it was now 50 degrees and partly sunny.  Luke’s Trail gets lots of bike use and is fast, smooth, and pretty straight.   I ran the Alan’s Alley Loop that runs right on the rim above Warehouse Canyon.  Great views!

I continued on and connected to IMBAtween, a trail that connects the west side to the east side.  On the east side I got better protection from the wind.  I reached the location where I took the wrong turn in the morning and continued north until I got to the junction for Meads Rim, a very long trail that heads south along a narrow rim.   With the gradual descent, it was great fun.  I really cranked it.  Once I got to the end of the rim, I stopped to consider what to do next.  I opted to descend down a very steep slope, a trail that on the map was labeled as Sick, Idiotic downhill.  I reached the valley floor near one of the many petroleum pumps that I saw all day.   I ran down Meads Valley until I connected with a road to take me back up to the mesa, connected to Knott Petes Rim trail, and back to my car.   My afternoon run was an additional 10 miles.   I made sure I ran exactly 26.2 miles, to get in a marathon for the day.

I’m glad I discovered this area.  I’m sure I will run it again because it is so easy to get to and offers something totally different from the trails close to home.

After running the Bear 100 for seven straight years, I decided that it was time to try a new race.  I was drawn back to my roots, and wanted to run the Virgil Crest 100 in Upstate New York where I lived for eleven years.  The Virgil Crest Ultras (100, 50, and 50K), in their fourth year, are held above the town of Virgil, New York, and runs through the Greek Peak ski resort, where I used to ski in the 80s.  This would be my third mountain 100-mile race in the past four weeks, Cascade Crest 100, Wasatch 100, and now Virgil Crest 100.

The course is a 50-mile out-and-back course with a tough mountain loop thrown in the middle, taking you up to the top of the ski mountain, not just once but twice during the loop. In all during the entire 100 miles, there were 20 significant climbs for nearly 20,000 feet of climbing along the entire way.  You knew you were at the top because each time there was a ski lift shack greeting you.   But most of the course runs through beautiful green forest, some of it almost dark enough for a flashlight during the day.  The trails are soft and fast (if dry) with only a few short technical spots. 

As a young Mormon missionary, I lived for six months in the nearby town of Cortland.  And then after college I worked for IBM in Endicott, NY, about 30 miles to the southwest.  For this trip, I stayed with a family, the Lawrences, who I taught and converted to the Church 33 years ago.  They were great hosts and were very curious and supportive about my crazy hobby that brought me back east to see them.  On Friday as they worked, I explored the VC100 course, first visiting Greek Peak looking up at the climb that I would need to do over and over again.   I was glad to see and recall that these were hills, not the brutal steep mountains in the west.  I could do this.   I also explored a portion of the Finger Lakes trail in the forest.  It was amazing and looked like it would be great fun to run through.   The Finger Lakes Trail system is more than 950 miles of trail that runs throughout Central New York.  The system is built and maintained almost entirely by volunteers and covers some of the most scenic land in New York.

The Lawrences took me to visit another family who I had not seen for about 22 years.   I had attended college with their son.  After a nice dinner, I went to the race briefing at the Virgil fire station and delivered my drop bag which I would be taken to the Lift House 5 aid station which I would visit eight times.

The race seemed to be very well-organized by race director, Ian Golden.  There would be nearly 150 volunteers out on the course to help us during the race.   The big question this year was how bad would the mud be?  The trails had never fully dried out from recent Hurricane Irene and during the past couple days rain again fell.  The flood waters from the hurricane basically wiped out two homes I lived in for eight years to the south.

The rain started again at 9 p.m. and I just prepared my mind for wet and sloppy conditions.  The 100-mile and 50-mile race starts together.  I would have preferred to have the 50-mile runners start an hour later as is customary with other races, so we could gage the competition better.  But since Ian allows 100-miler DNFs to drop down to the 50, I guess it is fair to the 50s to have us start together.

In the morning we gathered at Hope Lake for the start, a very nice park for families to greet their runners.  At 6 a.m. we started our epic adventure, running into the dark with a drizzle, humid mist falling on us.  For the first half mile, I ran in second place to stretch my legs out.  I had not run much since finishing Wasatch 100 two weeks earlier.   As we left a paved trail and entered the forest, I was pleased to see how fast I could run on it with my Stinson Hokas.  Despite the wet conditions, I seemed to have plenty of traction.  I immediately decided not to avoid puddles, but just run through them.  My shirt was already completely wet, but with the 65-degree temperature, I never was cold. In fact I never had to put on a jacket, even at night. It would rain lightly for the next four hours and be cloudy all day.  Overall it was very pleasant running weather (at least for the first day).

As we ran deeper in the forest and climbed up Tuller Hill, the mud really made an appearance.  Most were short stretches, but some were nearly a quarter mile long.  There were only a few very annoying spots where I would sink down to my ankles.  But my feet would be wet for the entire race and would look like prunes when I finally took my shoes off.   There were two creek crossings that were deep.  I just ran through them and cleaned some of the mud off my shoes. Running at such low altitude was a great treat.  My breathing never became very labored and my lungs just didn’t take the heavy toll that they usually do during 100s.

I reached the Gravel Pit aid station (mile 4.4) in a fast 45 minutes, probably running in the top 10.  I was very impressed with these eastern runners and their ability to run fast through these windy, rooty, muddy, forest trails.  Dawn arrived, but because of the dark forest and mist, it seemed like true light would never arrive, but eventually I was able to turn off my flashlight.  I reached the section of the Finger Lakes trail that I had previewed, knowing where I could really blast it down fast on the trail, and then hitting a mile of pavement taking me to the Greek Peek resort.   I arrived at Lift House 5 (mile 9.7 at 1:45, still going pretty fast.

Next up was the “Alpine Loop” taking us up access roads and portions of black diamond ski slopes.  Once over the top, there was a large group of us who were confused by the flagging.  Eventually we figured things out and continued a fast run down the mountain.  But once down near the lodges, the course turned back up, making us again climb up and over the mountain.   My legs were really enjoying the climb and I was very pleased that for long sections I could keep a run going and re-pass many runners.  I returned to Lift House 5 (mile 13.9) at 2:48.  I was 17 minutes ahead of my predicted pace.

Fingers Lake Trail

Next up was a long 11.2-mile (22.4 total) out-and back on the Finger Lakes white blaze trail.  It started off with another tough climb to the top of a ski lift.  Once on top, I had to take my usual long bathroom break in the woods and fell back into mid pack, probably about 20^th place.  The running was great fun but very slow in muddy portions which messed up my rhythm.  The trail would periodically cross over dirt roads.  With my preview the day before, it helped to know where I was and what to expect ahead.   I reached Rock Pile (mile 20) at 4:35, 10 minutes behind my predicted schedule.  As I was going up the final large climb, that even had a few ropes on trees to help, I was greeted by the front-runner, already about eight miles ahead of me.  Amazing!   I counted the runners ahead and was about in 23^rd place, clearly mid pack.  I kept telling myself to be patient, that sooner or later many of the runners ahead would slow down. 

I arrived at the turn-around point, Daisy Hollow Road (mile 25.1) at 5:48, about 20 minutes off my schedule.  Now it was time to turnaround and head back.  It was fun to see all the runners behind me and it gave me extra motivation to run faster as they approached.   Back at Rock Pile, I noticed that indeed, runners were slowing down.  One was even already changing his socks.  I passed several running down the next hill and then did my best to maintain a fast pace all the way back to Lift House 5.  I arrived there (mile 36.3) at 8:33, 38 minutes late.  I just couldn’t figure out how I could get back the time and quickly concluded that a sub-27 hour finish would not likely happen with these tough trail conditions.  It didn’t help that my stops at Lift House 5 and my drop bag were a bit too long.  I changed out of my sweat-drenched shirt several times, doing my best to avoid the inevitable chafing problems that would arise.

We again climbed up the Alpine Loop, but this time in the opposite direction. Once over the top and down, I met a runner who was very confused.   He had not remembered from the morning that we actually climbed up the mountain twice.  I chuckled, pointed up, and assured him we did go up twice, and up we went.   It was always sweet to be on top again.   Most of the times I would really blast down the other side fast.

All that was left for the first 50 miles was to return through the forest for a nine-mile windy run, up and down alongside creeks.  There were some pretty rooty sections and small side creeks to jump over.  But the final four miles was a very nice smooth and fast trail.   A woman runner caught up to me and started to give me nice encouragement, so I showed her how I could dig deep and really run fast.  She did her best to keep up and gave me nice compliments.  Finally Hope Lake came into view and I finished the first 50 miles in 12:48 before sunset.   I stopped at my car to clean a foot and change a sock, solving some hot spot problems.  I was again away at about 13 hours, now faced to do the entire run over again, this time most of it in the dark.

On the other side of the lake, I ran into a 50-mile runner finishing without a light in the dark.   He was stumbling around and asked me if there were any turns ahead.   I wished him well and understood why he was going slower than planned.  We all were.   Many 100-mile runners would quit the race after 50 miles, having no desire to run the muddy course again.  But I was determined.

My run to Lift House 5 went well, but instead of the 1:45 it took in the morning, I ran that stretch in 3:07.  Usually I go into a major bonk on the first climbs after sunset during a 100-mile race.  I started to feel the problem coming on, so I was very careful, ate right, took plenty of electrolytes, and backed off the pace.  I know I was getting lazy and letting the mud slow me down, but I really feared bonking all night.   I came across many of the back-of-the pack runners who were really struggling.  

The run up the Alpine Loop was lonely in the dark without any lights ahead that could be seen to catch.  On the way back up from the other side, another runner almost caught up, but I turned on the jets on the way down.   I was having great fun running on the trail at night.  I returned to Lift House 5 (mile 64.1) at 17:57, exactly at midnight.   I cleaned my other foot hoping to keep the blisters away for awhile longer.  

OK, 18 hours gone and I was 2.5 hours behind schedule.  Now I was getting worried.  I had planned to at least finish in less than 28 hours, which would give me plenty of time to shower and catch my flight home.  But now I felt a real urgency because I realized it would be very tough now to just finish in less than 30 hours.

For the 22.4-mile out-and back, I really worked hard on my pace.  I passed several runners, including the runner that Phil Rosenstein was pacing.  I shared with him my schedule problem.   Reaching the Daisy Hollow Rd turnaround was frustrating, because I thought I had seen a sign at the last aid station that the distance was 4.2 miles.  It was actually 5.1 miles and it seemed to never arrive.  On the way back, I finally really found the speed.  I put on the same song I played at Cascade Crest and that really woke up my legs.   I improved the “back” portion time by nearly an hour, arriving at Lift House 5 (mile 86.5) at about 26 hours, at 8 a.m.  Despite my slowness, it seemed like there were only about 10 runners ahead of me.  (Indeed, I was now in 11th place). I concluded that there must have been a large number of DNFs.   I should have changed shoes at this point, but I knew I could save about ten minutes if I just pushed on ahead.  I had been contenplating stoppint at mile 90 in order to catch my flight, but the more I thought about it, that would be about the stupidest reason ever to DNF a 100-mile race.

The morning was beautiful as I climbed the Alpine Loop for the last time.  The sun was rising and it looked like it would be a wonderful day.  Could I finish in four hours?  As I finally lost my uphill energy on the climb, I decided to throw in the towel with hopes to catch my flight.   I called my wife and had her change my flight to the next day.  I then assured her that I would now just take it easy for the rest of the race.   I probably should have continued on as fast as I could, getting back to the forest before the morning heat.  Little did I know….   On the way down, I was greeted by enthusiastic 50K runners going up, looking nice and fresh.  They all gave me great compliments.

When I reached Lift House 5 for the last time (mile 90.7), I was surprised that I felt terrible.  The morning heat and humidity quickly slammed me.   The aid station volunteers were great.  I lay down in a cot in the shade for nearly ten minutes until I finally felt better again.  Eventually I jumped up, and actually ran out of the aid station to cheers.   But the next mile up the hill on exposed sunny pavement, slowed me way down.   I had not counted on both heat and humidity.  I thought the forecast called for clouds both days.

Finally I reached the forest again and it was a bit cooler.  But soon, I collapsed down on the trail, trying to feel better and find energy again.   I would then get back up and be able to somewhat run again.  But the pattern would continue. Down and up. Front-running 50K runners soon were passing me and offered me any assistance.  One even offered to stay with me until the next aid station, but I refused, said he had a race to run, and I would be OK.  I ran out of water but dipped my bottle into a side stream that looked safe.  I used the water to cool myself off the best I could.

Well, with at about mile 94, I felt the worst that I had ever felt during a 100-mile race.   I was very dizzy, thowing up, hot, bonky, and had little energy.  I realized that I had symptoms of heat exhaustion.  My core body temperature was just too high.  What was I going to do?  At the pace I was going, it would take forever to reach help at the next aid station.  I have got to admit, that this was about the scariest I had felt during a 100-mile race.   (On a personal note, I guess I will mention that during this very low time, I offered a couple prayers, asking for help.  I didn’t know where that help would come from, but I knew it could come.)

I know when it is OK to push through tought times, but things just weren’t right. What I feared most is being a nuisance for the race director to worry about.  I didn’t want to have to be carted off to the hospital.  I wasn’t a rookie 100-miler, this was supposed to be my 45th finish.

Finally a 50K runner stopped and could tell how bad I looked.  He noticed that I looked very ashen. He said he would send someone back from the aid station that was now about a mile away.   Soon, a guy came running down the trail to me.  He was great and could see that I was determined to keep pushing ahead.  He called the race director and gave him my status so he wouldn’t worry and we pushed on ahead together.  It gave me comfort that someone was at least there to catch me if I passed out. 

Finally at Gravel Pit (mile 96), I just threw myself down in the shade by the aid station table.  Phil Rosenstein was there and he and others took over and did their best to help me.  With a bag of ice and cool towels, I was able to start bringing down my body temperature.  Was I going to quit at mile 96 of a 100-mile race?  Now that would be wild, one for the books!  Thankfully, not one person at that aid station suggested that I consider quitting.  But they carefully checked on me.  I was pretty incoherent at first, not knowing what I wanted to eat or drink.   

After about 15 minutes, I finally felt much better after Phil had me drink an Ensure.  The cool towel on my neck was working and the ice bag on my face felt wonderful.   Could I finish?  I just was too chicken to do it alone.  I asked Phil if he would “run” to the finish with me.  Phil was great.  He quickly made arrangements for someone to drive his car to the finish and went to put on his running shoes.

I got up and told the aid station guy that I was going to give it a try.  If it didn’t work, I would return.  But it worked.  Phil was great company, keeping my mind off my blisters (should have changed those muddy shoes) and we even ran some stretches at a good pace.   I kept the cool towel with me to try to keep my face and neck cool.  Phil continually suggested for me to eat and drink things.  Phil provided me a service that I will remember for the rest of my life, an act of true kindness and friendship.  I believe my prayer in faith was answered.  Bill, Phil’s runner later let me know, “Our plan was for him [Phil] to skip the Gravel Pit aid station . . . I was surprised to see him at Gravel Pit when I rolled in.  Obviously some little birdie must have told hime he’d be needed. there.”

Finally, Hope Lake came into view and we ran that last mile pretty hard to the finish.   I finished in a slow 32:42:34, in 17^th place but it was a finish, not a DNF.   I quickly got my belt buckle from Ian and went directly to my air-conditioned car.  I noticed that the outside temperature was 86 degrees.  Those last ten miles took me 4.5 hours as compared to 1:45 on that same stretch for the first ten miles of the race.  56 runners started, and only 29 finished.

Recovery for the next six hours was tough.  My body temperature was still too high and nothing felt good except sitting next to a fan with cool rags.  But I eventually pulled out of it and awoke the next morning feeling much better.

What did I learn?  It is silly to take a desert runner to the heat and humidity without proper heat training.  I just didn’t expect the heat.  I thought I would be finished by 8 a.m.  I would have been fine if I had run that fast, but the muddy course tossed those plans out the window.

Virgil Crest 100 is a wonderful race.  Two things came together this year to make it tough: Unusually muddy trails, and heat/humidity for the second day.  If both could be avoided, it would be fantastic race conditions and a beautiful course.  I hope to return.  This was my 45^th 100-mile finish.  Next up is Pony Express Trail 100.  I have a long break this time, four weeks.

My main attraction to doing this race each year is to rub shoulders with so many friendly local runners.  The pre-race meeting on Thursday afternoon is less about learning about the course, and more about having a reunion with so many ultrarunning friends, swapping stories and showing each other your recent battle scars.  My hand incision from my busted hand at Bighorn 100 was a big hit.  We had joked on Facebook whether race director John Grobben could conduct a pre-race meeting faster than Bear 100’s and we conspired to drag it out by asking stupid questions.  He knew what was going on and it was funny that he didn’t even ask if there were any questions.

I was kindly hosted for the night at the home of Matt Williams in Kaysville.  We had a great dinner.  Speedy runner, Stephen Young (not the QB) from Colorado came over and shared with him tips about the course.  He would indeed finish fast, in 5^th, in 22:00.   Scott Wesemann was also there, trying to calm his own nerves prior to his first 100-mile attempt.  He had trained very hard and would indeed finish well, in 32:45.

The last two years I finished Wasatch in about 28.5 hours, but I had problems each year that slowed me down and I hoped to avoid those and finish in less than 27 hours.  However, just two weeks ago I ran Cascade Crest 100, so I knew that would have some effect, I just didn’t know what. 

Scott gritting his teeth trying to not pass out with fear. Me, worried that I might not be packing enough toilet paper.

In the morning, Scott and I went to the start together.  It was warm, at the start, in contrast to last year’s cold year.  I heard John Grobben comment as we were waiting around, that the cold year last year  really helped more runners finish.

At 5 a.m. we were away.  I was pretty surprised how many runners this year sprinted off like crazy for the first three rolling miles on the Bonneville Shoreline trail.  I immediately rejected trying to keep up with all of them and settled into a fast, but comfortable pace.  Soon Dave Hunt (finished in under 24 hours many times) caught up and commented, “I usually pass you later.”  I replied, “I’m taking it easy.”  “Good move.”  But as I thought about it, I did consider that I was going out just a little too slow, so several minutes later I passed Dave and he said, “You just couldn’t hold back.”   He usually passes me about mile 8, so we would see if I could stay ahead until then.   Soon I caught up with Phil Lowry who finished in less than 24 hours last year.  This looked good.  With all the runners sprinting fast ahead, I knew Phil ran steady but strong.  If I was up with him, that was fast enough.

I reached Fernwood Picnic area in 34 minutes, which was right on pace for my usual fast start.   Matt Williams was there in the dark and cheered me on.  From there, I tried my best to see if I could keep up with Phil.  Two years ago I was running with him at mile 26, but I knew this year he was again determined to break 24 hours.  As our climbing got steeper, and tougher, I just couldn’t keep up.  I discovered something rather alarming; I just didn’t have the strength for steep hills today.  This would be a problem for the entire race, probably due to not being recovered totally from Cascade Crest 100.  What was funny, is that I could run mild uphills very fast at will, but if a steep hill came, I slowed to a crawl.

As I continued to climb, slower than normal, I was passed by many runners.  Dave Hunt caught me about mile 6, two miles early.  Usually I can fall in line with him all the way up to the top of Chinscraper.  Not today.  In just a quarter mile, he disappeared ahead.  I was getting discouraged.  Under Chinscraper, buddy Quinten Barney (finished in 33:12) caught up and passed.  It was great to see him, he was having a fantastic start, but for me, I was struggling.   Finally, at 2:29 I reached the top of Chinscraper.  I was 12 minutes slower than last year.   I did my best to recover, eat something and find my wheels again as we continued on the climbs ahead.

I was now clearly in mid-pack.  This was much different than usual.  There were groups of runners all around me.   Usually at this point there are big gaps and running starts to get lonely as the front-runners are ahead and the mid-pack behind.  There were a bright spots: it was very fun to be able to run with friends who I usually never see.  Also, I would now have fun trying to catch and pass many runners.   But my struggles continued as I started to have GI tract problems.  After a short stop, Scott caught up!   That was cool.  He looked like he was doing OK, but starting to look tired.  But he passed me and reached Grobben Corner ahead of me.

Once we hit the downhill my legs came to life.  I wished Scott well as I passed and then really kicked it in gear on the long downhill into Francis Peak aid.  It was great fun.  I looked at my Garmin and was determined to run all those miles in under 7-minute-mile pace.  I was totally successful, sometimes hitting 6:30 pace.  I flew by the other runners who were doing 9-10-minute pace or more.  I reached Francis Peak Aid (mile 17.7) at 4:15.  I had reclaimed several minutes but was still 14 minutes slower than usual.  My stop was fast and I set my sights on continuing to catch and pass runners.

I caught up with Rodger Smith (finished in 28:20) and started a pattern that would continue for hours.  I would pass him going strong, but somehow he would catch up due to my stops and problems.   We ran together for a little while but I was running the mild uphills strong, so I ran ahead and went into the bushwack section toward Bountiful B.  It was pretty overgrown, but nothing really terrible.  I concentrated on keeping my pace fast.  But once again, as we hit the steep uphills, I slowed to a crawl.  I reached Bountiful B (mile 24) at 5:42, over 30 minutes slower than I hoped.

After that checkpoint, I knew I had to stop to solve my GI problem, so I went off and visited the bushes for 10 minutes.  When I came out, I was greeted by Quinten Barney again.  Those who I had passed before Francis were now around me again.  I wondered if Scott was now ahead of me.  Something that was very evident was that almost all these runners were walking almost all the uphills.  I ran everything I could because I knew the runners several miles ahead were doing the same.  I wasn’t going to fall in pace with everyone else, I needed to run my pace.   I reached Sessions (mile 28.2) at 6:51, 33 minutes behind last year.

Well, the memories from the next 11 miles to Big Mountain are now a blur, just a pattern of blasting by many runners going fast, but having them catch up as I crawled up the steep hills.  It probably wasn’t that bad because I do recall passing a few runners on the steep climbs.   As Big Mountain came into view, ultra-legend Dan Brenden (finished in 31:04), who has finished far more 100s than I have, came into view behind me.  “Is that you Dan?”  It was.   I was flying down the hill and Dan kept pace for awhile.  He commented, “I could follow you for miles, you have such a good pace.”  Dan’s a great guy, one of my ultrarunning heros.

Once we came within earshot of the Big Mountain aid station, I was feeling great and let out some whoops.   It was funny, the people below heard me and the cow bells and whooping started and lasted solid until I arrived several minutes later.  Mike Place was leading the cheers.  I sprinted fast into the station (mile 39.4) at 9:49, nearly an hour slower than last year.  Last year I only filled my water bottle and ran on.  This year, I took a slow 22-minute stop with 10 more minutes in the bathroom.  I also cleaned my feet and changed into my Hokas.  I had decided to not start in Hokas because they tend to give blisters on steep uphills and your feet slide around in them on bushwacks.  I knew the trail ahead was rocky, so it was time to switch.

As I finally got on the trail again, once more with runners who I had passed hours earlier, I was flabbergasted how fast I could run with the Hokas.  The change was dramatic.  I realized that I had been picking my way around rocks at a slow pace, but now I could just roll over the rocks with great speed.  Well, this was going to be a blast!  I made some adjustments, got my music going, and then prepared to run as fast as I could to the next aid station and count how many runners I passed.  Most of them had pacers now.  I first passed Marc Sanderson (finish in 29:36) who seemed to be struggling.  Then many other runners came into view. Paul Grimm was surprised that I caught him so soon.  He had hoped to stay ahead for awhile longer. I flew by them all including Quinten Barney.  I told him that I thought I was passing him for the last time (it was) and wished him well.  I also passed Rodger Smith again and wished him well.  I was having a hard time catch a runner and pacer ahead, both with yellow hats because their pace was strong, but I finally did.  He was Jeremy Suwinski (finished in 27:18).   Then ahead I could see Dan Brenden who I knew had made a fast stop at Big Mountain.  This was good, I had nearly made up for my very long aid station stop.  I passed 23 runners on that segment.

I reached Alexander Ridge (mile 47.4) at 12:07, 1:14 behind last year, but my split was much faster.   As usual, I arrived out of water and I was careful to drink plenty to avoid dehydration.  So far I had been successful to avoid it.  My fueling seemed to be good.  In each of my drop bags I included a ziplock of bacon that I had cooked the day before, and I had been enjoying that treat all day.   At the station, Ryan Lauck was kicking back, sitting in the shade of the tent.  “Davy, take a load off, come and join us.”   I laughed, no, I needed to keep going, I could see Dan off ahead and needed to catch up.  I had caught up with Dennis Ahern (finished in 29:35) and we shared how things were going so far.

I hoped to continue to run the next section hard, but the uphills quickly started to get to me.  I just couldn’t reel in Dan and soon Dennis and a couple other runner passed me.  But as I reached the turn to Lambs, I discovered that at least three runners ahead had missed it.  I yelled up the hill and waved my hands.  The runner ahead got the message and eventually passed it to all those ahead, including Dennis who missed the turn.  I ran on.  Once I reached the steady downhill, I flew.  I looked at my watch as was again running at 7-minute pace.  This was nice.

I arrived at Lambs (mile 53.1) at 13:40, 1:35 behind last year, but I was feeling great.  Craig Lloyd and Matt Williams showed up to greet me and crew Scott.  I was surprised to hear that Scott was about an hour behind me.  With all my struggles, I thought he was ahead.  Many runners were taking their time in the station with their crews, so I quickly got what I needed and headed out.  I saw Eve Davies there, she told me that buddy Charlie Vincent was just about 5 minutes ahead.   I intended to catch up.  I discovered that I could run up the paved road with great speed.  I wished I had this strength on the very steep hills.  I passed a runner and caught up with Charlie at the top of the road, but he went into the bathroom for a stop. 

Usually I can charge up the trail to Bear Pass very fast, passing about a half dozen runners.  Not so today.  My pace was steady but others caught up with me including Dennis Ahern, near the top.   I turned my light on right before the top.  That was a little discouraging because last year I didn’t need a light until after Big Water.  I knew that I was about five miles behind.   On the downhill into Millcreek Canyon, I could fly again.  It was now fun to see runner lights ahead down the mountain and set my sights to catch them.   The road came quicker than expected as I caught up with Dan Brenden again.

I could see all the runners walking up the road.  I wasn’t going to do that.  I ran.  No, not jogged, I ran hard with my blue headlamp.  The running felt great and I must have passed about 10 runners, all who gave me nice compliments.  I tried my best to eat as I went because I knew that every year I have bonked after this road run.

I reached Big Water (mile 61.7) at 16:20, 1:33 behind last year.  Eve greeted me.  Charlie wouldn’t be arriving for another 15 minutes so she helped crew me.  I sat down next to a heater to avoid any chills, changed into a clean shirt and gathered my things together for the night.  I ate well and went on my way.

Then as usual, disaster struck.  All four years at this point, just about a quarter mile from the aid station, I start to have stomach problems and feel a bonk coming.  Again it hit.  Why?  Do I just worry about it and it happens?   Soon I threw up four times.   I knew I needed to slow down, stop eating gels, only drink straight water, take extra S-caps, and slowly start eating again.  The only question left was how long it would take me to pull out of this terrible problem that makes most runners DNF.

A stream of runners passed me.   I had to stop a couple times to catch my breath, reduce my heart rate, and get my stomach to calm down.  Each time it was funny how the very kind runners treated me like a rookie, trying to give me advice.  I thanked them and assured them I was fine.  I’ve been in this difficult spot many, many time.  There were no easy cures, but I knew what needed to be done.   I ate some bacon and I knew that would start helping and just kept going at a slow pace.

Finally, moving as fast as I could up the trail, before reaching Dog Lake, I decided I needed to crash for awhile.  So instead of lying by the trail, to be disturbed by every passing runner, I went off on a side trail and hid for about five minutes, and went down on the ground.   Why did this happen again?  Why does it seem to always happen in the same place, the first big climb after sundown?  It happened at Tahoe Rim and Big Horn too.  I thought it was altitude related, and it could be.  My new theory is temperature change on my body.  Perhaps with the longish stop at the aid station, after the hard run up the road, as I start to shiver, it causes my body to transfer blood away from my digestive system.  Next year I won’t even stop at Big Water, and just continue to run hard all the way to Desolation Lake.

Well, my struggles continued.  About a mile before Desolation Lake, I again had to stop for a snooze.  I went off in the woods and lay down in the bushes.  The moonlight above was wonderful and it felt so peaceful as I calmed my breathing and continued to try to recover.   I closed my eyes and enjoyed the rest for awhile.  When I finally came out, I discovered that I was now around runners who I had not seen since morning.  Almost all those runners I had passed were now ahead of me.

I reached Desolation Lake (mile 66.9) at 18:59.  It had taken me about 2 ½ hours to travel the 5.2 miles.  I was out of water, so drank up.  The Coke tasted fantastic.  That was a cheerful sign that I was recovering.  I ate more bacon and other things and sat by the fire to stay warm.  But suddenly I began to shiver, a sure sign that my body thought my run was over and wanted to recover.  I knew if that happened, I would be down for another 15 minutes, so I jumped up and quickly got going again.

On the climb up to the Wasatch Crest trail, I came upon a guy sitting by the trail.  I said I would join in.  He was also struggling with his stomach.  I tried to cheer him up.  As a couple runners passed us, I joked with them, inviting them to sit down join our pitty party.  They didn’t say anything.  Laughing at runners going by, I thought of those two old guys on the old Muppet Show who would always sit in the balcony making wise cracks during the show.  I was one of those guys.  Despite me woes, it was nice to be in good spirits.

On my way again, I reached the top of the ridge and then hoped without the steep climbs that perhaps I could quickly recover.   I did!  Finally!  Three hours of agony were over.  I was careful, but I kept bringing the speed up a notch.   Finally on the rolling trail as I was passing runners again, I looked at my watch and I was running at 7:30 pace.  Sweet!  My stomach was still tender, but functioning again.  Energy was coming back.

With spirits sky high, I sang out loud.  I found myself singing the Beatles song, “Help” that was playing on my Mp3.  I stopped singing.  I realized that singing loud, “Help, I need somebody” is not the right thing to be yelling out in the middle of the night on top of a mountain.

Next, I saw a very dark big figure ahead.  That was strange.  As I got to it, I shined my light on it, and just ten feet away was a huge moose.  We both were startled and it ran away.  That got my heart pumping.

I reached Scotts (mile 70.8) at 20:29, 2:20 behind last year.  Paul Grimm was there having struggles.  I had passed him after Big Mountain, he had passed me while I was snoozing.  He did seem to be in good spirits and looked like he would press on soon. (He finished in 35:01).  As I started again on the road, I noticed that all the other runners were walking.  I shouted, “It’s time to run again!”   And I did, and sprinted off quickly down the road, feeling good again.  I hoped to run very hard all the way to Brighton, but now a couple painful blisters were bugging me on the downhills and chafing had started, so I got lazy.   As I was running on the Guardsman Pass road, with my lights off, other runners behind were starting to catch up.   I came into Brighton at: 21:39, still 2:20 behind last year.

I took a long stop (25 minutes), needing to change into clean shorts to stop the chafing problem.  I also cleaned a foot and lanced a blister.  When I was preparing to leave, I was surprised to see Bryce Warren there who should be pacing Phil Lowry.  He explained that Phil had crashed hard while going up Cathrine’s Pass and returned to Brighton.  His crash sounded just like mine. He was now snoozing in the back room.  Many people were having the same struggles I had.  We discussed if Phil was done or not.  I offered to let Bryce pace me, but he wanted to be there if Phil chose to continue.  I went in the back room, hoping that I could talk to Phil.  I called his name, but he was dead to the world.  “Rest in peace, Phil” was my thought, and I went on to continue my quest for the finish.

The next stretch, yet another steep climb was tough.  Chris Avery caught up (finished in 29:49) and very kindly offered to stick with me all the way to the top.  But I told him to go on.  I was going too slowly and didn’t want to hold him back.   By the time I finally reached the top, I was surprised to see that Clark Hirschi (finish in 31:28) was in a group that caught me.  He should be hours ahead but was having his own struggles and had stopped at Brighton for several hours.  Shane Martin (finished in 31:15) was also there.  As the steep downhill to Ant Knolls station arrived, I jumped ahead wanting to try to run the downhill fast.  I pushed a good lead and soon passed Chris Avery who had taken a wrong turn.  But the rough trail bugged my blisters and I slowed as we arrived at Ant Knolls (mile 80.3) at 24:01, 2:35 behind last year.  Last year I arrived too early for breakfast.  Not so this year, so I sat down and was served pancakes and sausage.  They were fantastic.  Stan Williams, who worked with me several years was there and kindly took care of me.  

I jumped up and left before the others, but really struggled on the next climb.  Chris soon passed me, I think for the last time, as I slowly pulled myself up the steep hill.  Clark and the others also passed me.  But on the ridges to Pole Line Pass, something incredible happened.  My energy returned, my second wind arrived, and I started to really fly.  I discovered that it felt much, much better if I just ran like crazy up and down the trail.  Within minutes, I was passing runner after runner again and rolled into Pole Line Pass (mile 83.4) at 25:22, 2:44 behind last year.   I was in very good spirits.  The volunteers offered me a seat and breakfast, but I declined.  I wanted to keep flying!   Dawn was arriving and I dropped off my flashlight, hat, gloves, but still needed my headlamp.  I took a pancake to go and ran on fast away. 

I now realized that if I kept this up, I still had a very good chance to break 30 hours, so why not try?  My challenge would be the hills ahead, some of them steep.  Sure enough, they eventually killed my renewed energy and by the time Rock Spring came into view, runners were catching up again.  I arrived there (mile 87.4) at 26:51, 2:33 behind last year.  I had run that section 11 minutes faster, so not bad.  At the station, a runner who I had just caught up with, asked the volunteers, “That was the last hill, right?”  I laughed, and said there were still many tough ones ahead.  The volunteer then described several bad ones.   I pushed on, but stopped for a few minutes to call my wife and let her know that I would finish a few hours behind my expected time.

Well, my run to Pot Bottom wasn’t bad.  I enjoyed running the uphills, but the downhills were killing my feet.  There was now grit and dust inside my socks, grinding away at my socks.  If was really cared about my finish time at this point, I would have stopped for ten minutes to clean my feet, but I didn’t.  I decided to just go with the pain all the way to the finish.  It was a dumb choice because I only continued to slow down on the downhills.   I got to Pot Bottom (mile 93.1) at 28:52, 2:31 behind last year.  Gee, I still did that last split better than last year even with the time stopping to chat on the phone.  Last year when I got to Pot Bottom, it was frigid, in the 20s, but this year it was hot.

But, now, I was just ready for a slow pleasant finish.  It felt too hot to run hard. Charlie and Eve caught up moving well, going faster than I really felt like going at this point.  I was being extra lazy.  Next, Phil and Bryce showed up.  Phil and been raised from the dead.  Mark Coleman, Brighton aid station captain, told him to wake up, gave him orange juice, and booted him out the door.  He was looking good. (finished in 30:56).   He said to me, “You know the drill.  Six miles to go and six hours to finish.”  I laughed.

The rest of the race was rather painful because of gritty feet, but I just plodded along.  I passed the guy with the Vibran Fiverfingers going really slowly through very rocky areas.  I just don’t get trying to use those on ultras. But I guess it is a challenge he’s proving to someone or something.  I’m sure he could finish hours faster in shoes.

Finally I hit the final paved road.  Stephen (who had finished about nine hours earlier) and Aaron drove by, joking, asking it I wanted a ride to the finish.  Ha, ha.  I should have taken it!  That would be a funny story to get DQed with a mile to go.

Now on the pavement, my feet felt better, so I just ran hard to the finish passing a couple runners.  I crossed the finish in 97^th place in 31:20:04, but the legs felt great.   Wow, that had been rough.   It was good to be done.  My 44^th 100-mile finish was in the books.  No, it was not pretty, but with the highs and lows, I made it through and now could look forward to my next 100 in only two weeks, Virgil Crest 100.  After cleaning up and rested at my Dad’s condo, I returned to watch the final runners cross the finish line.  That is always an amazing thing to watch.  The last runner to officially finish, Alisha Strobel, finished with just seven seconds to spare (35:59:23).  Everyone got up from their chairs, surrounded the finish line and gave her a standing ovation.  That is the spirit of ultrarunning at its best.

The Cascade Crest 100 is held in the Cascade Mountains of Washington state, on a loop course on high ridges and valleys near Snoqualmie Pass.  The race director, Charlie Crissman, bills this race as a throw-back, classic ultra that doesn’t seek fame or crowds, but just wants to share a remarkable trail running experience.  That is my kind of race and it lived up to its lack of hype.

I grew up in Washington, and while in high school could be found each Saturday in the winter on the ski slopes at the resorts of Snoqualmie Pass.  I really looked forward to returning to my home and experiencing these mountains in a way I had never dreamed of as a youth.

My trip to Washington was somewhat eventful.  I made the mistake of putting a home-made Garmin watch charger in my carry-on bag.  At the airport, I was stopped by the TSA guys.  They pulled out the suspicious unit with its switch and 9-volt battery and asked me what it was.  I explained that it charges my GPS watch.  “Why don’t you use the wall charger,” they asked.  “Uh, because the charge only lasts about 12 hours and I’m still running.  I run very far.”  More people gathered, three more TSA guys, and two cops.  They were all huddled around the unit, pointing at it, making comments.  I tried hard not to look like a worried terrorist.   A guy sat down next to me to put on his shoes.  Seeing the commotion, he asked, “What did you do?”   I explained, and he laughed and laughed.

The TSA supervisor came to me again, “Tell me again, what do you use this for?”  I told her the same story.  “Why are you going to Seattle?”  “To run in a 100-mile race.”  She noticed my “I hiked the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim” shirt and asked, “Is that shirt an example of the type of running you do?”  I replied yes, but thought to myself that the shirt is actually a lie.  It should say, “I ran the Grand Canyon Rim-to-rim-to-rim-to-rim-to-rim.”  But I thought it best to not explain that.    One of the cops came up to me and reassured me, “I have a running friend who has a watch like that.”

They carefully reinspected all my stuff.  A TSA guy was satisfied and said, “good thing you don’t have any traces of explosives.”  I agreed with him.  Another TSA guy said they would have to frisk me.  The supervisor told me that I would have to wait around because they called in a bomb expert.  I guess he was still at home.  She warned me that he might be dressed in bomb stuff which may get a lot of attention.   Oh boy!  That should be interesting.

This is not a bomb!

So, for another half hour, I tried not to look too conspicuous.  They laid out my Garmin stuff on a sheet of paper, along with my ID and took a bunch of pictures.  “Great,” I thought, “What kind of no-fly list am I going to appear on?”

Finally the Bomb expert arrived.  He asked me what I used the unit for, went and looked at it for about a minute, and then came back and said he cleared me, but the TSA guys would need to clear it through their bosses.   They took more pictures. He said, the best thing to do is to next time just put the unit in my checked bag.   Finally, I was free.  “Have a nice race,” they said.  I went away wondering how many cameras would now be focused on me.

Finally in Seattle, without being arrested for carrying a dangerous running watch, I visited my hometown of Federal Way, letting all the memories flood back.  It was amazing to see again roads and buildings that still haunt my dreams after more about 35 years being away.

Kachess Lake

I drove up into the mountains and camped by Kachess Lake.  It was beautiful and peaceful expect for the aggressive mosquitoes.  These blood suckers didn’t fool around.  Instead of flying around you for awhile, they would just zoom in and immediately suck your blood.  I went to bed early and had a great night’s sleep.

Cascade Crest 100 started at 10 a.m.  It was nice to sleep in, but I knew the late start would be a real problem because the morning started to become hot right away.  It would be a wonderful sunny day, are rare event in the Pacific Northwest.

Photos by Chris Gerber and Jeremy Dougherty

Away we went.  After running on hot dirt roads for awhile, we entered a much cooler single-track that would climb well over 4,000 feet to Goat Peak.  I usually try to hang out with the lead pack for awhile, but because of the heat, I held back and seemed to be with the third pack or runners.  The trail up the mountain was amazing.  I immediately noticed the lack of rocks.  It was smooth and clear, and the switch backs were all modern and maintained.  I’m used to the trails in the Wasatch Mountains that are game trails that became hiking trails, with a few planned switch backs thrown in.  But this trail was a nice steady climb.

Me on Goat Peak

However, well before reaching the top, I could tell I was becoming badly dehydrated.  Before reaching the 10-mile mark, I had backed off any attempt to push the pace and race.  I knew that if I did, I was in serious jeopardy of crashing and burning.  I was somewhat disappointed, but I took it easy and went into more of a survival mode.

Mount Rainier

I reached Cole Butte (mile 10.8) at 2:21 in 47^th place, about ten minutes slower than I hoped for.  Going at a slower pace let me look around and observe more.  The steep slopes down into the valleys were amazing, covered with fir trees.  A couple times impressive views of Mount Rainier came into view.

The trail continued to be tough.  One minute we were near 5,000 feet, and a little while later, back down to 3,000 feet.  Then we had to climb again.   This race start was one of the toughest for climbing that I could recall.   One thing I noticed is that with the smooth trails, when the Washingtonians around me came upon a rocky section, more like the trails in the Wasatch, they would slow way down and pick their way through the rocks.  I would instead blast over and through them and would get nice compliments.  But those sections were short.  I wished there were more.  (Beware what you wish for.)

I was really struggling when I arrived at Blowout Mountain (mile 15.2) at 3:26.  I was in 55^th place, but I thought a volunteer told me I was in 25^th place.  That really surprised me.  Things fell apart from there.  I started to have terrible GI challenges, probably due to the dehydration, and started to be passed by many runners.  Finally, I had no choice but to stop and use the bushes, to try to solve the problem.  I was there for nearly 15 minutes, and when I came back on the trail was probably in about 90^th place.  Tetsuro greeted me with smiles.  I explained my troubles and he offered to help if I needed anything.  I was feeling much better.  I knew that Tetsuro runs a steady pace and finishes strong.  I still had a hope to do pretty well.

I felt much better, and quickly ran ahead with new energy ahead of Tetsuro.  Very soon the course joined the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) which was a wonderful rolling trail in the cooler forest.  My pace increased.  As I came upon runners, I could clearly tell that I was now mid-pack.  There runners would not run the uphills anymore, they would only power hike them.  I tried to run everything and before the next aid stations had re-passed about ten runners.

Looking good, near Tacoma Pass

I arrived at Tacoma Pass (mile 23.3) at 5:26, now in 80^th place.  I was nearly an hour slower than I hoped for at this point.  But I was feeling great, and was all smiles.  People called me be name at the aid station and said I was looking good.   At each aid station I only stayed for a couple minutes and noticed that each time I passed a few runners who were taking their time.

I really enjoyed the run during the late afternoon.  While in the shady forest I could really push the speed, but when it went through hot exposed areas, I had to put on the brakes because I was still feeling the effects of dehydration.   I reached Snowshoe Butte (mile 29) at 7:18, climbing to 72^nd place, and reached Stampede Pass (mile 34.5) at 8:09 in 65^th place.  I recognized that the runners around me now were familiar.  They were runners who I had seen before my long stop in the bushes.  I was pleased that I had at least made up for that.  I was very surprised that I caught up to Chris Gerber.  He had passed me over five hours earlier looking very strong.  I thought I would not see him again before the finish.   Thus started a pattern that would be established for the rest of the race.  He would push ahead very strong.  I would think I that would be the last I would see him, only to run fast by him a few hours later.

Sunset over the Cascades

It was dark when I arrived at Mirror Lake and could see the fires from evening campers around the lake.  I could now also see the lights of runners ahead of me.  The trail became much more rugged which I enjoyed for awhile and set my sights on a runner ahead being slowed by the rocks.   I passed him and for the next couple miles he used me as a pacer and pretty much kept up with me as we ran very well.  But eventually I needed to make a pit stop.  He expressed disappointment that I was stopping.  Within a half hour, I was again suffering from GI trouble and had to lie down.  About five runners passed me, asking if I was OK.   I had decided to be very careful during this period.  Often during the first major climbs after sunset, my stomach shuts down and I go into a major bonk that ruins my race.  I wanted to try several things and see if I could avoid this.  So I purposely held back somewhat, ate and drank better, and even though I threw up a couple times, I was able to avoid a serious bonk.

When I am struggling, I think it is both nice and funny when kind runners offer me help and advice, thinking that I’m a rookie 100-miler, in over my head.  I assure them that I’m fine.  I know that once I get through the lows, they will be surprised to see me sprint by them.

I arrived at Olallie Meadow (mile 47.7) at 11:43, now in 60^th place.  I had climbed nearly 30 places in the past six hours.  Next up was the crazy steep rope section, in the dark, down to the road to the tunnel.  We had to descend a crazy steep slope with the nice help of ropes that I hung on to for dear life.  To the north, I could both see and hear cars going by fast down from Snoqualmie Pass on I-90.  I had heard one volunteer mention that one year while working at Hyak, drivers would come off of the freeway wondering what was going on, seeing all the lights of the runners.

Finally I was down on a very flat dirt road that led straight toward the mountain to a former train tunnel that goes through the mountain for more than two miles.  I found speed in my legs.  The cool air had solved my dehydration issue and my legs felt very rested.  I pushed the speed, doing better than 8-minute pace, and started to catch runners ahead of me.

Snoqualmie Tunnel

I entered the dark tunnel.  It was a crazy place to run at night.  There were no lights, but occasional reflectors on the walls.  The tunnel is now used mostly by bikes.  I didn’t need much light, the ground was smooth, so I turned on only my blue bulbs on my headlamp and set my sights on faint lights ahead.  The runners ahead were either walking or jogging slowly.  I had great fun coming upon them and blasting by them with a sprint.  The tunnel went on and on and seemed to never end.  Toward the east end, it became very stuffy and foggy.  I started to have claustrophobic feelings and just wanted to get out of there.  Finally the open air arrived.

When I came to Hyak, it was very confusing to determine where we were supposed to go from there.  I had expected an aid station in the parking lot, but there was none.  I first made a stop at the nice modern bathroom, and then came out and helped other confused runners who I had passed, figure things out.  Finally I noticed a glow stick and another guy came who had scouted out the place the day before and knew the way up the road.

I reached Hyak (mile 52.7) at 13:33.  I was in 60^th place.  There were many runners there with their crews and pacers.  I tried not to stay long, getting my jacket, refilling my pockets, and grabbing my flash light.  I left there right behind Kari Fraser from Colorado, who I would run near from the next 10 hours.   We would now run on a dirt road for the next 16 miles.   It would do a major climb, more than 3,000 feet and then descend down to the lake I camped at the day before.

On the climb, I started to struggle and eventually had to again lie down on the side of the road and watch about five runners pass me and disappear up the road.   I eventually stumbled back on my feet, at first weaving around, but eventually found my balance and could run again.

I put on some music and came upon an old Earth, Wind, and Fire song with the perfect beat.   I forced myself to run as far and as long as I could to that fast beat.   The other runners ahead of me were all walking up the road.   For the next hour, I would run very fast by them while singing, keeping the pace as long as I could, then take a short walking break and repeat.   It worked great.  I re-passed everyone who had passed me since Hyak and pushed on far ahead of them.  By the time I reached the top, I was very surprised to see that Chris Gerber had just left the aid station.  I had even caught up to him!

Now, I was feeling super and was faced with a long 7-mile downhill.   I flew.  I could see lights of runners ahead and down the valley.  The chase was on.  I first passed Chris and then passed runner after runner.  At times I would turn off my lights for fun just to see if I could keep running and seeing the amazing star-lit sky.  This was the best part of my run.

With a mile to go before the next aid station, I ran out of gas again.  About eight of the runners I had passed all caught up and passed me.  They were all moving well.   I arrived at Kachess Lake (mile 67.9) at 17:11 in 58^th place.  My stop was short, enough to refuel, eat just enough, and then to push on.

I knew the next section would be tougher, but it was much tougher than I thought.  It started out crazy.  There were a bunch of blow downs that we had to crawl over and under.  At one point I said in frustration, “this isn’t running.”  It felt like we were going through a very bad obstacle course, and in the middle of the night.  It reminded me of a section in the Uintas that Matt Watts and I ran through a few years ago.

They call this section the “trail from hell” and it is aptly named.  I pushed on ahead and passed all the runners that I could see ahead of me and then had the rough trail to myself above the lake.  It was rocky, rooty, with blow downs, crazy short climbs and descents.  I was making pretty good progress and commented to myself, “This is great fun.”   I was enjoying it.  However, after an hour of it, I changed my tune.  It drained me.  As I made the turn around the north end of the lake, I could finally see reflections down in the dark lake.  Up until that time, you couldn’t tell that you were above the lake.  But at this point I could look back and see many lights of runners following me on a shelf above the lake.

I ran out of water and slowed down.  I had been working so hard that I was sweating like crazy and some very bad chaffing started.  I had to stop many times to try to solve.  Again, the same pattern occurred.  After the aid station I feel great and push a big lead over the runners around me, but then fade before the next aid station.  I was passed by about five other runners including Chris Gerber.  I finally had to dip my bottle into a stream to get hydrated again.

I arrived at Mineral Creek (mile 73.9) at 19:31, right at dawn.  A volunteer announced that I was in 53rd place.  That was discouraging news, because I had hoped to be in the top 40.  I would have to push very hard to hope for that finish.  Dawn arrived, so I could leave behind my lights and jacket in my drop bag.

Picture of North Cascades taken by Chris as I ran near him

Next up was another monster dirt road climb up to Thorp Mountain.  It took me awhile to find my speed again, but I could eventually run uphill.  No one else seen ahead of me were running.  The first person I passed was Chris Gerber.   He was enjoying the morning and taking pictures of the stunning North Cascade peaks.   There was a little cloud cover, which was very welcome, but the heat was still returning.

Me, running down the trail

I reached No Name Ridge (mile 81.5) at 21:42 in 50^th place.  I had caught up to Dana from Canada who was moving very well.   I would see her right up until the finish.  I next was introduced to the Cardiac Needles, a serious of steep tough climbs without switch-backs.  The first one was amazing.  I had very good uphill strength for that one and pushed it up and up.  It seemed to never end and just went straight up.  I finally reached the top, but was so worn out that my pace on the flats was probably slower than on the climbs.   There were a total of five of these very crazy climbs.   Where were the very kind switch backs from yesterday?   Clearly the second half of this course is much tougher than the first half.

Above Kachess Lake with Mount Rainier in the distance

I arrived at Thorp Mountain (mile 85.5) at 23:11.  We had to do a short, but tough out and back up to a fire lookout at the top of the mountain.   It was good to see where the runners ahead of me.  My pace was getting slow and I was being lazy.  My feet had the usual Hoka blisters on my toes and I was letting them slow me down.  It looked like only Chris and I were wearing Hokas.  I saw Chris going up as I was heading back down.

Me heading up Mount Thorp

I was pretty lazy on the next section.  It really reminded me of the Wasatch Mountains.  It was much rockier and had brushy areas that made me feel like I was back home. But I was moving slowly and didn’t catch up to anyone one.  I arrived at French Cabin (mile 88.7) at 24:46 and chowed down on wonderful bacon.   As I was leaving, Chris arrived and he bid me goodbye.  It seemed like he was acknowledging that he wouldn’t be catching up again.  It turned out he didn’t.

Cruising on the fast trail

Once I climbed up and over the last ridge, the pain went away from my blisters and I could really fly again.  The trail was wonderful, as it weaved through the forest. I was able to push a pace approaching 8-minute pace.  When I do, I usually quickly start passing runners.  I was puzzled that I wasn’t passing anyone.  Finally I caught and passed Dana and later on Brian Fretwell, from Idaho who was really struggling.  I thought with the pace I was flying that I could catch enough runners to climb into the top 40, but I didn’t.  I had waited too long to make my push.

I reached the last aid station, Silver Creek (mile 95.2) at 26:47 in 49^th place.  There was less than five miles to go.  I had driven through this area the day before so knew what to expect.   It was getting very hot as we ran along the powerlines.  Dana and her pacer caught up and went ahead.  I couldn’t see anyone ahead to catch.

Once we reached the final two miles of pavement, I was able to increase my pace little by little and passed Dana for the last time just as we were entering Easton.   I looked behind and was shocked to see two guys (Mike James and Shawn Krause) running very fast toward me, passing Dana.  Wow, where did those guys come from?  Somehow, I dug deep and found huge speed.  It was working, there was no way they were going to catch me.  I crossed the finish line with a ton of energy and speed at 27:40:24 in 47^th place.  It was 90 degrees when I finished.  I didn’t wait around, quickly got some drinks and headed for my car to turn on the air conditioning.   I quickly recovered, said some goodbyes and headed to Hyak to wash up.

Chris Gerber and Kari Fraser cooling their feet at the finish

I looked for Chris, but never saw him finish (he finished about an hour after me).

My first Cascade Crest 100 finish was in the books, my 43^rd career 100 finish.  I ran it about two hours slower than I hoped, but was pleased with the finish, given the hot conditions we had to deal with.  It had been a good race.  I had fallen to about 90^th place and ended up in 47^th place.  That alone was a victory and showed me something new that I could do.

The aid stations and volunteers were top-notch.  The course was beautiful.  Much of it was forest tunnels, but there were also stunning ridge runs and open dirt road sections with nice views.  That “trail from hell” left me wanting to do that section again.  I know I can do it much faster.  It was a great challenge.  But I’m unlikely to run CCC100 again because of the heat.  If they could guarantee me cool and rainy weather, I would be there again.

See 23-minute video of the race taken by Steve Emmert

Kings Peak

Kings Peak is the highest peak in Utah at 13,528 feet.   All of Utah’s peaks over 13,000 feet are located in the Uinta Mountains.  I’ve summitted ten of them.   Kings Peak gets the most attention and each weekend in the summer dozens of hikers make the trek to the top.

Back in 2001, before I was a runner, I did the normal 3-day backpack with my brother and our sons to reach to top.  I remember seeing a guy with a daypack running.  I asked what he was doing and was amazed to find out that he was doing a Kings Peak summit in one day!  That really inspired me and just a couple years later I accomplished the same thing.  Now I had been to the top eight times and been to Anderson Pass, right below the summit an additional four times.

Would it be possible to summit Kings Peak twice in one day, a double?  This would involve running from the trailhead to the summit and back twice, a run of about 52 miles and about 10,000 feet of climbing with almost all if it above 10,000 feet.   I heard that several people were going to attempt it so this weekend, so I decided to join in.  With all my experience doing multiple Timpanogos summits, I knew it would be tough, but very possible.

Craig Lloyd organizes an informal run each year, Quest of Kings.  This year, this idea of accomplishing a double took hold and there were five of us who made the attempt.

But could it be done THREE times, a triple?   I knew I could do it if I wanted it bad enough.  So secretly I put plans together to possibly to do it three times.   I planned to start about eight hours before the others, do one trip, and join them for the second trip.  If all went well, I should have time and strength to do a third trip.  I didn’t tell anyone about this idea of doing it three times.  It would be a nice surprise if I did it.

I arrived at Henrys Fork trailhead a little behind schedule and scrambled to get my things together fast and get out on the trail.  I left about 5:30 p.m. on Friday.  It had been two years since my last Kings Peak run.  That one had been my fastest.  I reached the summit in 3.5 hours and back to the trailhead in just under seven hours.   If I wanted to join in with the others starting at midnight, I would need to make the first trip in 7.5 hours.  I set that in my mind and pushed ahead.

The late afternoon was wonderful as I started running through the forest.  The parking lot had been full of more cars than I had ever seen before so I knew there were tons of backpackers up in the valley.   At mile 1.5, I saw a guy jogging down the trail with a backpack, an unusual sight.   I said hi and then he stopped, “Davy?”   It turned out to be Pete, a friend from work, a very fit biker.  He asked what my plans were and I told him I was running 2-3 times to the summit.  He wished me well.

I I reached Elkhorn crossing at 1:17, which I knew was about ten minutes slow.  I had been slowed by stopping to make adjustments and I was also confused by the new bridge at Elkhorn.  I finally paid attention to the signs there that directed me to the new bridge about 400 yards up the trail.

View of Henrys Basin looking back towards the trailhead 11 miles away.

Just past Dollar Lake, I again said hi to a backpacker with his kids.  “Dave?”  I laughed, it was my friend from work, Bryan, who had helped me do my planning for my Skyline Drive run a couple weeks ago.  He had seen me running up the trail and said, “I knew there were only a few crazy people who do this, so I knew it could be you.”   I stopped and talked for awhile.  He offered any support for me since he would be camping at Dollar Lake.  I told him I would be fine.  I did look up the mountain and wondered if I made the wrong choice to not bring a jacket for the first trip.   I was only in short sleeves, and shorts and as the sun was going down, it was already getting chilly.

On I went.  I knew my pace was slow.  I always slow down when I wear a little back pack.  I carried a hand-held water bottle in each hand and had my flash light and headlamp in my little pack for later.  I reached Gunsight Pass (mile 10.4) at the 2:40 mark which I knew was more than a half hour slower than my pace two years ago.  With my late start, I already knew it would be pretty hard to finish this first trip by midnight.

Up until that point the trail is pretty nice, very runnable.  The first six miles in the forest are covered with bowling ball sized imbedded rocks, so it is an obstacle course at times, but up in the meadows it is smooth and fast.

Now I was faced with the most difficult section.  There would be no more trail, just a route.  Instead of taking the long trail down into Painters Basin, I took the much shorter cut-off route which is marked with occasional cairns.  There were a couple kids at Gunsight Pass and they watched me as I started running the cut-off.

I was first faced with a new challenge – a very big steep snowfield.  There were foot tracks across it and the snow was a little mushy so I could dig in a little.  It was somewhat scary but I made it across.  I made a mental note that on the way back I better take a longer way around this thing because it would be icy.

I made it up through some scrambling rock climbs onto a shelf.  I always have hard time finding the route on the way back and I knew it would be in the dark, so I looked around carefully to memorize the right place to descend this cliff area.

From there to Anderson Pass, you just pick your route.  There are really two choices.  1. A more direct route that involves more boulder hopping, or 2. A lower, longer route that involves grass running.  I usually run the grass, but this time I opted for the shorter route since I was feeling good and strong.

Dark arrived right before Anderson Pass and I had difficulty finding the Highline trail below it.  No problem, I just went straight up.  I arrived there at 3:45, a half hour behind schedule.  I stopped to send a text message home (which never arrived until the following day.)

Climb to the summit. I did this in the dark.

Now, was the toughest part.  It was still almost a mile to the summit and this involves serious steep boulder hopping.  And this time it would be in the dark.  I had once before done it in the pre-dawn, but never in complete dark.  I used both a flashlight and a headlamp.  But within a minute my headlamp went dim.  I guess I had forgotten to change the batteries and I didn’t have any spares with me.   This really made it tough because the only light I had was in my hand.  At times I had to use that hand to balance me or pull me up a rock.  So many times I was making a step without light.  There was a full moon rising so that helped somewhat. Thankfully, I knew the best route to the top very well.  Other than light issues, I didn’t have any major problems and I was pleased that despite the high altitude, I was breathing well and didn’t need to stop for rests.   I reached Kings Peak summit at the 4:27 mark.  It was about 10 p.m.  My Garmin showed almost exactly 13 miles. That is a pretty slow half marathon!

I was struck with a very remote and lonely feeling.  Here I was, all alone at night at the highest point in Utah.  It was chilly, but not as cold as down in the valley.  This seemed pretty crazy to be up there alone at night, several miles away from anyone.

I didn’t stay long and started to head back down.  As I descended, I saw a very bright light shining up to me near Anderson Pass.  Someone else was nearby.  This was very odd.  Perhaps someone was camping near the pass.  But soon the light disappeared.  I finally figured out what it was.  The full moon was rising over my shoulder and had reflected on some water just perfectly to make it look like a very bright flashlight.   I arrived back at the pass at the 5:05 mark.

I ran back across Anderson Basin, this time taking the lower, longer route to run on more grass.  When I reached the shelf above the cliffs I needed to descend, I became confused.  I just couldn’t remember the location I had tried to memorize.  I had seen a cairn, but I worried that I was starting to descend a little too soon.  Sure enough, I was in the wrong place.  It wasn’t more dangerous, it just meant I would have to do a long boulder-hopping traverse to get to the right place.  I did reach a steep slope with loose scree that was a problem getting around.  It was slow going in the dark.  I probably wasted 15 minutes because of that blunder.

I next reached the snow field.  Should I go across it?  I took a couple steps and it seemed OK.  But the further I went, the more icy it got.  I was now in serious trouble.  It was impossible to dig in better foot holds and there were no hand holds.  I looked down and in the dark the steep snow slope looked like it would dump me off onto rocks at serious speed.  With each step, I knew I was in great danger of slipping.  It was impossible to turn around, I just kept going, very, very slowly.  I tried to see if my flashlight could dig in to slow me if I fell, but the slope was solid ice.

This turned out to be the most terrifying experience I had had for a long time.  I was also wearing Hoka shoes, which have very little tread and were not helping much to get solid footholds.  Finally, I discovered there were little holes in the icy slope.  I could use my finger to dig a little and at least get a finger hold as I made each step.  The helped, but each step I wondered in my next thought would be, “Here we go, down to the rocks.”  The slope was about 150 feet across and I must have been out there for more than 10 minutes.   The last 10 yards were the worst, but I finally made it.   I was so relieved and shaking with stress.

I reached Gunsight Pass at 6:14, about 11:45 p.m.  I knew long ago that it would be impossible to finish my first trip by midnight when Scott and the others should be starting their first trip.  I now wondered where I would see them on the trail.   I was out of water and getting very thirsty from all the hard work.  I missed the spring somehow below Gunsight Pass, but planned to dip into the first stream within another mile.  I found it and drank an entire bottle before filling.

Up ahead, I could see some lights not far ahead.  Could it already be the other runners?  Maybe they started early.   But this group was moving slowly.  It turned out to be a couple guys, each with a dog.  I wondered what they were doing going up the mountain in the middle of the night. I’m sure they wondered the same thing about me.  In another mile, I met a couple young guys also hiking up.  Wow, the trail was pretty active for the night.

Finally, below Dollar Lake at the marshes, I could see ahead the lights of runners.  It was Scott and the others.  We stopped for a few minutes to talk.  I warned them about the icy slope to avoid.  I apologized for being so slow and not running with them. Scott said that they were also going more slowly than planned. They were probably 12 miles ahead of me (or I was 19 miles ahead of them, depending on how you want to look at it.)  They must have started well before midnight anyway.

I reached the forest and just had six miles left.   I was now feeling fantastic.  I reached Elkhorn Crossing at 7:30 and reached the trailhead at 8:49, about 2:10 a.m.   It was somewhat discouraging about how slowly I had gone, but I didn’t care too much because I didn’t want to push it very hard.

Next, I spent 25 minutes in my car with the heat on.  I was shivering and discovered that it was 37 degrees at the trailhead.   I dressed in warmer clothes, ate plenty, and tried to warm up.  I never considered quitting at this point, because I felt so well.  I decided for the second trip to do it without the pack, and just put food in the pockets of my biker jacket and go with one water bottle.  I now knew were all the water stops were.

I pushed myself out the door, back in the dark, and started to trot up the forest trail again.  For the next hour or so, I battled uncomfortable gut issues and made a couple long stops in the bushes.  It took me 1:45 to reach Elkhorn Crossing, compared to 1:17 on the first trip.  I felt better as I went passed Dollar Lake.

At the marshes below Dollar Lake, I noticed frost on the grass as I ran through some very cold pockets of air.  I looked around me and it was an amazing sight to see the entire valley glowing in the full moonlight.  My shadow extended to the east as the moon set to the west.

I wondered when I would greet Scott and the others as they were coming back down.  I predicted that it would be around Gunsight Pass, but I had been moving so slowly, it could be sooner.  At times I could run very fast, but on this trip the altitude was getting to me.  I had been concentrating on breathing deeply, but over the hours this left me with sore lungs.  My stomach had started to shut down as it did at Tahoe Rim because of the altitude, but the deep breathing and eating plenty kept that problem away.

Dawn arrived.  I turned out my lights as I almost reached the pass.   I reached Gunsight Pass again (mile 37) about the 12:45 mark.   There I greeted the other guys.  Even with my long stops, I was now 21 miles ahead of them.  They all looked pretty thrashed.  Scott had been hit by the altitude and threw up near the summit.  I asked them if they still planned to do a second trip.  They didn’t commit and I didn’t think they would.  We wished each other well, and I pushed on ahead.

I love morning in Anderson Basin.  I’ve been there several times in the mornings.  It is a sight to see the sun rising over the mountains to the east, shining on mountains around and reflecting on the springs.  When I reached Anderson Pass, I was out of gas.  The altitude was now thrashing me and I had not been eating much.  I looked above and just concentrating on moving ahead to the top.  It took me over an hour to get up there and I had to stop many times to catch my breath.  I would get dizzy at times and stayed away from the cliffs to the right.   As I was moving so slowly, I concluded that there would not be a third trip this time.  My body just couldn’t handle yet another climb at this altitude today.  At the pace I was going, I wouldn’t be able to finish a third trip before sundown.  With my backpack trip next week which would involve 100 miles of backpacking and running, I didn’t want to put that at risk.

On top of Kings Peak for the second time

I reached the top of Kings Peak for the second time at about 8:15 a.m. or 14:45.  I knew that the Quest of Kings runners had just started their run and were now chasing after me.  I had originally hoped to finish my second trip when they started.  I was no longer in any hurry.  I reset my plans and just hoped to finish before the first runner did at about 1 p.m.   I stayed at the top for about 15 minutes, getting out of my warm clothes, eating, and enjoying the morning at the top of Utah.

I looked to the east and marveled that a few years ago I traversed the entire Kings-Emmons ridge in about five hours, climbing up six other 13er peaks.  I looked at my bloody knee that I had knocked on boulders three times.  Certainly if I ever attempted to do that crazy ridge again, I would bring knee pads and shin guards.

OK, it was all downhill now.  I boulder-hopped back down the Anderson Pass and started to feel better at 12,600 feet.  I greeted many early-morning hikers.   One guy said to me, “Only 20 minutes to the top?”  I did a quick calculation in my head and from the point where we were at, the best I had ever done was nearly an hour.  I replied, “A lot longer than that, unless you run all the way.”  I noticed more hikers on the way taking a long direct slow boulder route from the cut-off.  I could see that they were watching me move much quicker than them over the Highline Trail.  I then cut over to the grassy slope.  I was sick of the boulder hoping and wanted to avoid as much of it as possible.  The Hokas just aren’t made for boulder hopping because your feet move around inside of them too much.

This time I made my way through the cut-off perfectly, and avoided the snow slope.  There were some kids sliding down an edge of it.   I wondered where the runners were.  As I was running back down the other side of Gunsight Pass, I greeted the first runner coming up, Aaron, who holds the fastest known time for a Kings Peak summit.   He knew who I was and asked how my double was going.  I told him I felt thrashed.   I continued on and met another few runners going up.

I filled my bottle at the stream but failed to fill up my stomach with water.  That was a big mistake because my bottle would run out with about five miles to go.   The trail was filled with backpackers heading down.  I passed group after group, but still my pace was very slow as I became badly dehydrated.  Finally, either I needed to beg water off of backpackers, or dip my bottle into questionable steams.  I chose a couple streams that looked OK, coming down from ridges.   I immediately felt much better and could at least trot again.   I ran into my friend Bryan again and I stopped to talk for a few minutes.  He had heard me singing as I went by his camp during the night by Dollar Lake.  That is a scary sound to hear during the night.

Another guy saw me and asked, “Are you the guy going up Kings Peak twice?”   I laughed, the news was spreading on the mountain, just like it had when I did the five Timpanogos summits.  Many others would ask if I had already been to the top.  To most of them, I would just say yes, that I had been to the top.   I explained to a couple of them that I had been up twice.  It was now after noon, and I probably looked pretty silly with a flashlight in my hand and a headlamp on my hat.  The last three miles seemed very long.  I was anxious to just finish.

I finally finished the first known Double Kings Peak in 19:44:10.   I knew that was a terribly slow time, but still, I was the first person to do it.  I think a good time would be around 15 hours.  The four others who attempted a double this weekend all quit after one trip.  I knew how mentally tough it is to go back out after one trip, so it wasn’t surprising.   So, I was the last one standing (or stumbling).  As I was drinking an ice-cold drink at my car, Aaron finished his speedy summit run in just under 5 hours.  That is amazing to me.  He ran it twice as fast as my second trip.   He congratulated me on my double and I congratulated him on his fastest known time.

Will I ever attempt a Triple?  Perhaps.  If I did, I would start it a little earlier to reach the first summit before dusk, reach the second summit for the sunrise, and make sure the third trip finishes before the second sunset.  I would also use better shoes for the boulder hopping.  And finally, I would need more altitude training before the attempt.  Altitude it the real barrier to these multiple summits.

Planned route to cover 110 miles in Central Utah

For my birthday, I wanted to try to run the Skyline Drive end-to-end, something I’m sure no one has even attempted before.   This is a 110-mile dirt road that runs from I-70 to Hwy 6, north-south in Central Utah.  Most of it is above 10,000 feet.  Craig Lloyd was interested in running it with me and we found a willing crew to drive along, Josh and Matt.  I had scouted out and driven about 40 miles of it a week earlier.  I received some good information from buddy, Bryan, who has spent many days up in that region.

Me and Craig, all smilles at the start. Little did we know....

We started our run at 8 p.m. on the south end.   I had run a marathon less than two days before and could quickly tell my legs were not fresh and ready for this.

Away we go with a half mile of pavement to start things out.

For the first five miles I struggled to get the kinks out and had trouble keeping up with Craig.  But eventually I used tricks such has running fast uphill in spurts that finally got the kinks out.

Just as I was feeling great and ready to run fast, we ran into a major obstacle.  As the road reached the aspen groves, I noticed my feet felt a little heavier.  Mud!   Apparently there had been a huge thunderstorm earlier in the day that dumped an inch or two on the mountains.

No traction at all

A little while later, we caught up to the crew and they Josh said they had a problem.   The clay mud had coated his tires and he had no traction at all, like sliding on ice.   They had no choice but to turn around.  We would have to go to plan B.  They would drive around and meet us at the top of a canyon at about mile 29.

Mud and more mud

So, we were on our own.  We put on light packs to carry more provisions for the next several hours.   We stopped for awhile to make sure they made it back down the road safely and then were on our way again.  It was slow going.  We hoped that the mud would go away in a few hundred yards, but it stayed with us for about six miles until we reached the high ridges where the wind had been able to dry things out.

Mud on the Hokas

Our pace was frustrating.  The clay mud would stick to our shoes like cement and weigh several pounds.  If we scraped off just a little bit, we could feel a huge difference, but then a few steps later it was back on.  We were doing this all in the dark.  At one point, Craig finally shined his light on my shoes and started busting out laughing.  My Hoka shoes have a large surface area, so the amount of mud clinging to them were amazing.

Our pace was about a 20-25 minute mile through the mud.  I realized that we were already significantly behind pace and I prepared myself to realize that we probably would run out of time and not run the entire route we hoped to run.  Oh well, I would just try to have some fun.

Once we reached about 10,000 feet, the road became more sandy and less muddy and it felt great to really run again.  But my next challenge was my headlamp.  Instead of taking my trusty handheld, I used a headlamp and the batteries were going out.  My light began to dim.  At first it was a fun challenge to run with the dim light, light running in moonlight, but soon it was almost out and I started to stumble. Our elevation climbed over 10,500 feet and up there was starting to get pretty chilly.

At about 4 a.m. we reached mile 29.  That is about eight hours to travel 29 miles!   We searched the campground there and found our crew fast asleep.  It was good to see them again.  They decided that they would again try to follow along with us.

At mile 30, we hit thick fog right before dawn.  It was almost like running with the dim headlamp again because you couldn’t see very far down the road.  We reached the high point for our adventure right before dawn.

Sunrise on the Skyline Drive at more than 10,000 feet.

The sunrise was spectacular and eventually the low clouds cleared out.

The early morning was amazing.  There is just no better place to run than in the morning at 10,000 feet. The crew had to turn around again at mile 39 because a massive snow slide was blocking the road.

Craig and I continued on and made our way around the obstacle.

I worried about the crew driving down the rough Manti Canyon road. When I worry, stress makes me slow way down and walk.  I just couldn’t reach them by phone for a long while.  I didn’t haul these guys out here to just get them injured or in trouble.

Me and Craig feeling good at mile 45.

Craig ran on over a mile ahead of me and then waited at mile 45.  Finally I reached the crew by phone down in Manti filling up on gas.  They would head up Ephraim Canyon, mile 45 and drive until they found us ahead.  I also called home and all was well.

The crew came up Ephraim Canyon and caught up with us about mile 50.  At that point Craig’s stomach wasn’t working.  I looked at him and could see defeat in his eyes.  I didn’t try to talk him out of it.   I made a very quick stop and told the crew to not worry about me, to take care of Craig.

Going on ahead without Craig

I was feeling fantastic in the early morning.  The mud again returned but I did my best to run near the side of the road where there was some vegetation to help keep the mud off my shoes.

I didn’t realized that Craig had indeed quit and kept looking behind me for him to catch up.  But it turned out that he was getting a nice snooze in the crew car.

At mile 53.5, I noticed the crew stopped early at a sharp corner.  Josh told, me, “We have another problem, look at this.”  I turned the corner and saw a massive steep snow field blocking the road.  I felt so bad for everyone and apologized for all these unexpected problems.  Everyone assured me they were having a great time.  I knew that meant that I would be on my own for the next 15 miles or so.  I quickly put my pack back on.  The crew would again head back, drive around and try to meet me around mile 68.

Trying to figure out how to get across the slope.

The snow field turned out to be a slippery obstacle.  I quickly determined it was too steep to cross, so I went down and crossed under it in the mud.  But, the mud was just as slick.  I took two falls into the mud and my cell phone went flying into it.   I yelled back to Josh and Matt that I may not be able to call them anymore.

Finally across, I was a muddy mess.  It really took the wind out of my sails.  I stopped at a creek to try to clean up a little.  I looked at my hand that I busted six week earlier.  The Band-Aid I wore was gone, the incision from the surgery broke open in a spot and there was mud all over it.   I did my best to clean it up and worried about further infection.

On my way again, I was in a beautiful forest area.  But with more trees, meant more mud.  The road was protected from the wind and the mud was the worst I had seen for the entire adventure.  Now there were also large puddles to cross.  I noticed that there was no evidence of any vehicle tracks on the road recently.  It just wasn’t travelable.  But I could made slow progress and plodded on, only going about 30-minute mile pace.  The scenery was amazing and eventually the road went out to the west where I had views of the towns of Spring City and Mount Pleasant to the northwest.

It was so quiet and peaceful.  It was just me and nature.  Birds chirped and at times I would startle a deer or two.  There were deer tracks all over in the fresh mud and soon I spotted elk tracks.  At one point it looked like dozens had run on the road earlier that morning, putting their tracks in the mud.  I nearly slipped and fell about a dozen times but continued my journey.

Before reaching South Twin Creek, I came across a massive landslide blocking the road with huge trees, boulders, and dirt.  There was no way for even an ATV to get around it.  I climbed over it, making my way through the boulders and trees.  Wow, that thing would need a bunch of heavy equipment to clear out.   Earlier I had seen a couple other smaller slides.

Craig, done for the day.

At about mile 62, I called the crew.  They had to stop about mile 67 and Josh said he would ride his bike out to find me, he thought he was close.  I didn’t think he was close, because I had been going so slow.  The further I went, the better the road became.  I could start running again, but would always hit a low spot that would again cover my shoes in mud.

Josh, biking in the mud on the Skyline Drive

At about mile 64, Josh came into view on his bike.  It was great to see him.  He had worried that somehow he had missed me because he had to go so far.  No, I was just very slow.   He offered to let me ride the bike, but I still wanted to run.  I now could find some better speed and tried to make good time.   He pointed out the storm clouds to the west and we were both worried about being dumped on by rain and stranding the crew vehicle.  So I did my best to move quickly but it still took about an hour to finally reach the vehicle before the sprinkles turned into real rain.

My last few steps of the adventure

I had long ago decided to quit.  I could have continued on, but I knew everyone was ready to go home, including me.  It was nearly 3:30 p.m., great timing to get home and get a good night’s sleep.   I was about 15 miles behind schedule and no way did I want to run in the rain and keep these guys out there for another night.   So, my birthday run was over, at 67 miles after 19.5 hours.  But that 67 miles felt like 100, the worst being the last 15 miles.

Mud Butt

I quickly changed out of my muddy shorts and shoes and hauled my sore butt into the crew vehicle.  It was nice to rest.  A big thanks to Craig, Josh, and Matt for participating on this crazy adventure.  They were good friends and showed great glee in watching me thrash myself on my 53^rd birthday. I forgot to warn them that every single Crockett adventure run I have ever done has always been much tougher then anticipated. It had been an amazing birthday, the toughest adventure run I had ever done.

My actual route

I’m still determined to one day run that entire 110 miles.  I believe I can do it solo with just two food drops.  Timing is a problem.  It would require a nice long dry spell and also avoid hunting season.

Watch Craig’s video about the adventure.