My experience has been that I hit most of my PRs at age 51-52.  5K – 19:51, ½ marathon 1:29, Marathon 3:23, 50-mile 8:07, and 100-mile 19:40.  Since then, I’ve noticed speed decreases at all distances.  Hopes for that sub-20 100-mile finish are pretty much a thing of the past and I’m now happy with the sub-24s.

Yes, it is frustrating at times to see the younger guys who I used to keep up with, go ahead.  But I shift my focus to other things instead of speed as it fades.

After witnessing 53-year-old Liz Bauer crank out 100-mile finishes last year (36), week after week, it has inspired me this year to experiment with frequent very long runs and their impact on the aging body.  I don’t have the time or means to enter 100-mile races week after week, but I can try to push limits on my own.  I’ve discovered that the more I do it, the faster I recover between runs.   What used to be a 10-14 day recovery between 100-mile finishes has now decreased to 4-5 days.  To me this is puzzling and astonishing for a mid-50s body.

So while my speed is decreasing, my endurance and recovery capability is still increasing.  During this experiment I have eliminated speed training and entering 5Ks, 10Ks, etc.  The danger of bad muscle pulls and the long healing process required at age 54 is a constant worry.  I also have decreased my mid-week training miles, sleeping more and looking forward to that next very long run.

Since I started this insanity, here is a chart of my longest runs during each week for the past couple months.  That is seven ultra-distance runs in the past eight weeks. This week, I’ll add Bighorn 100.

So as the aging process keeps appearing its ugly head, shifting focus to new realistic goals is certainly possible.  For me, the limits are still being discovered.

I started at Vivian Park, the normal start of the race, at about 6:30 p.m.  Early on, I was bothered by some bloating issues which slowed me down and almost made me turn back, but I got through it. (Don’t eat a spicy pizza right before a run).   Since I was hauling all my food and extra water, the initial big climb was about 15 minutes slower than if I was racing it.  I ran into a moose about mile 3 and the silly beast just kept running ahead of me on the trail for a half mile.  It finally went downhill.   Above Rock Canyon, a guy on a motorcycle came up to me and told me just down the road was recent bear sign (poop) and they had just set a bear trap.  He seemed concerned about me.  I knew I would be far away within an hour.

Darkness came around mile 10 above Rock Canyon.  A car was coming down and it saw my strange green light and waited as I came up.  “Are you OK?” asked the guy.   “Yep, I’m doing fine.”   He just couldn’t understand why I was heading up in this remote area in the dark.  I just ran on.

It really was a different perspective running the course in the dark.  Most of the course flagging was still up which helped me a bunch, but I still would pause at points just to make sure I was going the right way.  There were sections where the flagging was down and I just had to trust my memory of all the turns.  I’ve run the course many times.   I never took a wrong turns.  I did backtrack once, thinking I was going the wrong way through a bushwack section above Rock Canyon, but I was indeed doing it right.

The long seven-mile descent toward Hobble Creek was fun and the lights from the city below was cool.  I ran out of water on the way down but knew I could get some soon at the canyon below.  I treated any questionable water sources. I hit the Hobble Creek road about midnight and I’m sure the couple cars that went by thought I was nuts.  I really took the paved road run easy and reached the top of the road about 60-90 minutes slower than normal, but I was having a good time.

At mile 30 I stopped to eat a buritto and other goodies.  After that I had amazing strength and speed.   I ran fast into Little Valley and felt better than I ever have running into that section.  I ran most of the trail up to Bald Knoll, feeling great, the fastest I had ever run that section.

Dawn arrived as I finished going around Bald Knoll, making my approach to Bozung Hill.  I had traveled about 28 miles during the very short night.  The climb up the steep hill wasn’t a big deal.  I didn’t feel the effects of altitude at all.  I looked to the east and thought about the Utah Valley Marathon starting just over the mountain in Wallsburg, five miles away and wished my friends well.

The morning at the top was spectacular as the sun started to peak over the mountains.  It was so cool to be up there. I took my time.  I next ran down to Windy Pass.  The trail for the entire course was in better shape than I have ever seen.  The major factor is that last week 200+ runners pounded it down for me.  It was nice and smooth in many sections.  I normally didn’t see footprints left from last week, but the wear on the trail was very evident, and easy indicator that I was on the right route.

It started to get warm as I made the huge descent into South Fork.  But the sun was still low so there was plenty of cool shade spots.  I never saw a single person on the trail and I had to do all the spider web breaking for the day and night.

I finally hit the South Fork Road and enjoyed the morning run down the paved road, greeting many bikers making their way up.  It is so much more pleasant finishing in the morning instead of the hot afternoon.   I finished in about 14:30 to zero fan fair….quite satisfied.  It was a great experience, glad I did it.   When I reached home my wife commented that I didn’t look tired.  I really wasn’t.  Funny how a 50-mile run is no big deal now.

This adventure also helped me answer a question I have pondered for a couple years.  Is a double Squaw Peak 50 possible?  Don’t be surprised if I show up to next year’s Squaw Peak start with 50 miles done already.

Bryce 100 is a new 100-mile race held on the next major ridge line to the west of Bryce Canyon National Park.  While the race is not held in the national park, along the way runners are able to view many similar rock formations and run a few miles through hoodoos. It runs above and below what are called the Sunset Cliffs that face to the west. Much of the course is above 9,000 feet, so altitude is a major factor both because of lower oxygen and cooler weather.  The course is deceptively tough but the beauty is first-class.

In the weeks leading up to the race, I made two trips to preview the region and run portions of the course, also to try to help get me get adjusted to the altitude.  I was very impressed with the area and realized that this race would likely become one of the classic 100s in the country.  The trail is mostly soft and runnable with a few areas of loose rock.   The climbs are many, but all no longer than 1,000 feet at a time.

In the month before the race, the course was changed significantly twice.  The resulting course was mostly an out-and-back, but with the start and finish in two different locations.   The start area has very limited parking, requiring runners to be shuttled in two miles, introducing some confusion.  But it is well worth it in order to let runners experience the spectacular Thunder Mountain trail, the first seven miles of the course.  The finish is at Ruby’s Inn near Bryce Canyon, allowing a nice roomy finish location near lodging.

For this race, we made it a family camping trip. My wife and daughter came along.   We camped at the beautiful Topic Reservoir.   Race check-in was at the group campground which was very congested when we arrived, not enough room to accommodate all the runners coming and going.  We decided not to camp in the group area with everyone else and instead enjoyed a nice peaceful evening by a camp fire in the main campground.

In the morning, I let the family sleep in and hitched a ride with another runner to the start area, about 15 minutes away.  I rode a school bus to the trailhead and tried to stay warm until it was light enough to begin the race.  Because the course starts on single-track, I made sure I was near the trailhead when “go” was shouted by the race director.

I started among the top five runners and was pleased to not be back in the crowds.  I was able to run my own pace and enjoy the rolling single-track the weaves in and out of the numerous draws and pine forest.

By mile 4 I was still running in the top 10.  As I began running fast down into Redrock Canyon, since I had seen the views last week, I instead concentrated on my pace and footwork.   It was nice to be able to truly run at full speed for the first time in 18 months.  I was thrilled and having a blast.

Matt Watts photo

Once through the spectacular Redrock Canyon, the trail turned into a rolling trail through the lowland foothill forest down around 7,000 feet.   Trace Lund caught up as we were running through the foothills.  It was funny that both at Salt Flats 100 and Bryce 100 we stayed close for miles.  I was now struggling with my pace, going through a little initial low point. Phil Lowry caught up around mile 10 moving well and it was nice to be able to keep up with him for quite a while.   He would periodically take some video so I had fun being a jerk, passing him at those points and jumping into his video shots, making some sort of wisecrack.  We arrived at the Thunder Mountain aid station (mile 10.3) at 1:49, a couple minutes ahead of my goal time.   Soon after I arrived, the station became crowded as waves of other runners arrived.  I tried to get out of there fast.

At about mile 12, I finally was warmed up and could really run the hills fast.  We ran through a beautiful narrow canyon that climbed toward Proctor Canyon.   I was delighted to discover that I could push the pace hard, without difficulty, running up canyon.  I passed several runners and stretched a nice lead over them.

The final three miles to the next aid station was a long runnable climb up to about 8,700 feet.  By mile 18, Craig Lloyd caught up, running ahead of his group of three other friends running the entire race together.  I referred to them as “the boys.”  They would stay together all the way to the end, an amazing feat to do for 100 miles.  I reached the Proctor Canyon aid station (mile 19.5) at 3:53.  I received a nice friendly greeting by many as I arrived.  I left before “the boys” arrived and started attacking the steeper 1,000 foot descent to Camp Eli.   Course marking were plenty, and perhaps over-marked.  I never had problems going off course.

After Camp Eli was the steepest climb of the course without switchbacks heading up a narrow canyon and after skirting below a large set of red cliffs, we made a final 500-foot climb to the rim at 9,200 feet with spectacular views on all sides.  I arrived at Blubber Creek aid station (mile 26) at 5:41.  Yes, a pretty slow marathon, but we had already experience about 5,000 feet of climbing.

I felt the effects of altitude and it put the brakes on my pace somewhat during next eight miles or so, rolling along the high rim.  I had gut and feet issues, and ended up stopping for nearly a half hour for a bathroom break and foot cleaning.  As I got running again, I ran with Ben Blessing from Idaho.  Shortly after I left him behind, he suffered a serious ankle sprain that put him out of the race.   The section between Blubber Creek and Kanab Creek had plenty of ups and downs near the rim and seemed to be an especially tough section.  I arrived at Kanab Creek (mile 33.6) at 7:39, about a half hour behind my projected pace.

Sunset Cliffs - Matt Watts photo

The course soon left the single-track Grandview Trail and spilled out onto a dirt road that descended down into Straight Canyon.   When I arrived, the boys were there, doing well.  My long stops in the bushes had let them caught up.   I enjoyed running with the boys for the next few miles.  I then pushed the pace ahead as we made the long dirt road climb up to above the Pink Cliffs.

Pink Cliffs - Matt Watts photo

When I arrived at the top, I stopped and said, “Wow!”  The view of Pink Cliffs really popped.  It was spectacular.   We were at the highest point of the course, about 9,500 feet.  I arrived there (mile 45) at 10:45, an hour slower than I hoped, but I was still running in the top 20.

Matt Watts photo

Next up was a switch-back dirt road descent back down to the Grandview Trail and another spectacular traverse below some amazing cliffs near Crawford Pass.   I ran out of water but one of the boys caught up and gave me enough to avoid dehydration.   I arrived at the turnaround point, Crawford Pass (mile 50) at 12:04.  I was pleased with that time.

Phil Lowry was there, surrounded by family and friends explaining why he was quitting, “Not worth it, trashed quads.”   Despite all his preaching there, when I left, I bet to myself that he would still finish.   He did.

Me, almost back up to the Pink Cliffs

I had a very quick stop at the turnaround and made the next big climb pretty fast.  It was fun to see the rest of the runners behind me spread out for miles.

Trace Lund caught up with me at mile 60 and we came into the next aid station together.  I spent the next 30 minutes changing into night clothes, cleaning my feet and trying to eat.  However, I just wasn’t feeling well.  The boys arrived as I was about to leave.  I ran up the road a ways and realized I forgot my flash light, so went back down to retrieve it.  Kendall Wimmer gave me a wind breaker for the night.  I was afraid I would be too cold.  I sure was glad he did, that was a life saver.

I felt rather rotten on the next climb and near the top the boys caught up.  It was now dark.  I hung with them for a while but then stopped to get my music set up to really cruise on the rim.  Once I had the right tunes playing, I really stepped up the pace and passed runner after runner, but so had the boys.  Where were they?  We arrived about the same time at Kanab Creek (mile 66.5) at the same time, still running in the top 20.   The boys seemed to take long station stops, but I was in and out pretty fast.  I should have stayed longer because soon I started to crash.  I stopped and cat-napped in the trail for about five minutes until the boys caught up.

The next section on top, above 9,000 feet was brutal.  My stomach shut down because of low oxygen, my heart rate too high, and I was breathing hard.  I just couldn’t run much.  The wind really kicked up and as I was mostly walking, I became very chilled, hypothermic.  Eventually I would have to stop, find a warm place out the wind and rest until my breathing rate came down.   I was passed by runner after runner.   Because I was moving so slowly, I also ran out of water.   Twice I had to beg water off of some kind runner.  Trace Lund caught up and he too was having trouble.  I passed him while he napped, but he eventually went by again.   It took me a very long time to reach Blubber Creek, mile 74.

This aid station had no fire to warm by.  When I arrived, I said, “I’m having trouble, not in very good shape.”  But no one there offered any help, so I went to find it.   I went down a little row of crew cars and asked if there was a car I could sit in.  A lady quickly offered her car for me.  She was great, making room for me and offering me help.  She turned on the heat and her car seats were even heated!   Soon the hypothermic feelings left me, but my stomach was still shot.   I talked about quitting to the lady, asking her about a ride back down. But she wouldn’t hear it.  She reminded me that the next section was downhill, that I should keep going.  I kept thinking of a warm sleeping bag, back at my camp.   I went to the aid station to get some food, came back and asked if I could just sit in the car and try to bring my stomach back to life.  She even let me clean my feet in her car.  Well, after an hour there, I decided to continue on.  I knew my race time was shot, but surely I could finish.

The next section dropped to 7,700 feet at Camp Eli.  I felt somewhat better, but had no strength at all on the short climbs.  On the long climb, I moved slowly and several runners passed me.  Jim Milar caught up, good to see him.  At the turnaround I had been about 2-3 hours ahead of him.   I reached Proctor Canyon aid station (mile 80.1) at dawn, 23:54 (five hours slowing than I hoped).  As usual, after a night of stomach issues, when finally the sun hit me, I found life.  I could push the pace again and arrived at mile 89, the group campground at about 8:30 a.m.  We had just made a spectacular climb through the Cliff Rock area.

There would now be eleven more hot lowland (7000-8000 feet) miles left.   I decided to push it hard to see if I could come in under 30 hours.   I would have to run the last 11 miles in about 2:45.   I walked the first half mile but then really kicked it into gear.  My legs were fresh and my lungs were working again.  I passed about 8 runners.  It was fun to see them about a half mile in the distance and cruise to catch them.

The finish finally came into view and I came in at 29:51.  There were so many nice people at the finish congratulating me, including the lady who saved my race at mile 74.  Trace Lund ended up finishing right before.  The boys finished strong about three hours earlier.   Phil Lowry finished an hour or so later and reported that the course ended up being about 102 miles.

I was somewhat delirious from the fast miles in the heat so didn’t hang around long.  I needed to cool down fast and hit the AC in the car.  My family drove my back to the campground where I washed up in the bathroom with a nice cool floor to help my feet.   We hit the road to return home and without a couple hours I was feeling good again.

Bryce 100 is a fantastic, but tough race.   The DNF rate was high and it almost claimed me too.  The altitude that early in the season really kick my rear end.  I left wondering if I would return.   I probably will.   My 55^th 100-mile finish is in the books and was a memorable experience.

This time, I wanted to experience the best parts of the canyon twice by doing an out and back to the 25 mile point and back for at least 50 miles.  After the 25-mile point it turns into open desert, hotter and less scenic.

I spent the night in Kanab and was on the trail at dawn.  This would be the toughest flat 50-miler I had ever attempted.  What would make it tough would be the 600+ river crossings.   The river was the highest of my visits, mostly ankle/calf deep, but in places up to the knees.   Running across the river was out of the question because it would splash and get the shorts wet, so I would slow each time to walk across.

For the first 7 miles, the river water was frigid and the air temperature too.  It was rough, but once I reached the confluence of Buckskin Gulch with the Paria, the water warmed and the sun started to peek down into the canyon a little.   My spirits lifted and I enjoyed it much more.

The canyon is spectacular with very high cliffs on both side, rising at times to hundreds of feet.   There is generally no trail so you pick your route and try to make use of the banks as much as possible to run.  Back and forth as the river winds down the canyon.   I passed backpackers who had been out the for 1-3 days.   On the way back they would stop me and talk.  They were very impressed.

I reached the 25-mile mark at about 6 hours or so.  All went well and because of the cool weather in the canyon, I didn’t have to fill up very often from springs.   The way back was tougher, crossing against the river flow.  It took more effort.   But wow, what an amazing run.

I reached the trailhead at 13:32, with the sun still up.  Pretty good including at least 45 minutes of stops and one bad route through reeds that I had to back out of.

In past years that run would have wiped me out, but it was no big deal.  My legs felt fine.  The feet were wet for the entire time, but my road shoes drained well.  I only had to clean out the sand once.   I ended out with water-logged feet, but no blisters.

At the last minute I decided to run a road race, the River Rail Relay which runs the paved trails from Roy to West Jordan.   I ran the entire distance solo.  I truly made it a solo run.  Friday evening, I parked my car at the finish, and then took Trax (light rail) and Front Runner (train) to Roy (the start) and then ran 2.5 miles to a motel.  Riding the train all that way certainly put in my mind just how far I would be running.

After 5.5 hours of sleep, I got up, got ready and did a 2.5 mile warmup run to the start where I met Vince Romney who was also running the course solo.  I think we were the only two to attempt it.   The rest of the field were mostly Ragnar types, with either 2-person or 4-person relays.

I ran with Vince for the first half mile or so and then decided to open it up and see how the legs felt running faster.  I was curious to see what they would do after the back-to-back 100s the past two weekends.   Things went well early, mile pace: 8:16, 8:01, 8:16, 8:51, 8:45.  I was keeping pace nicely with the leading relays.   The relays would switch runners about every 6-7 miles, so at the beginning of each new leg I would get passed by one or two fresh runners.

But at mile 9, I warmed up and clocked some speedy miles, 7:59, 7:56, 8:13.  My half marathon split was 1:53, OK.   But at the second relay point, the water station was about a quarter mile away at a parking lot.  They didn’t think through logistics.  It is fine to have it there for relays, but what about the solo runners.  People kept encouraging me to go to the parking lot to get refilled, they just didn’t understand that I was running solo.  I asked for a refill from the runners standing around, but they looked at me with blank stares, couldn’t understand why I needed a refill on the course.  This was discouraging.  I just kept going and hoped for the best.

I was clearly going to run out of water.  I was carrying just one water bottle and I just had a little left.  Finally two women riding slowly on bikes passed me.  I called out and asked for help.  One rider was so kind and filled my bottle to the brim.  I thanked her over and over again.   OK, I could avoid deep dehydration now, but it had halted my fast miles, I was clocking 9:52. 9:27, 9:38 now.

Once I reached the 3rd exchange point about mile 19, again the water was about a half mile away.   My bottle was empty.   I stopped and loudly explained to everyone standing around there that I was running solo.  I couldn’t go run a half mile away to get water!   This time runners started to understand and two of them filled up my bottle, also a race volunteer finally understood and said he would radio ahead to make sure there was water at the future stops on the course.

So all this bugged me and slowed me down.  At least they brought down water at this stop by the time Vince arrived.   I continued on this leg clocking miles averaging 10:10 pace.   When I reached exchange 4, the volunteers there quickly escorted me to the water.  The race director had personally brought it down for me.   I reached the marathon distance at 4:04, not bad for a 50-miler.  I took my longest stop here, bathroom, drank like crazy, and refilled my pockets with gels, candy and bacon from my little pack.   At the early stops there was no food for us, so both Vince and I hauled everything we needed on our backs for 50 miles.  I probably ate a pound of bacon along the way.  It was fantastic.

The Legacy Parkway trail was the worst part of the course.  Boring, exposed, and tons of bikers going by very, very fast without regard to the runners.  So I was very careful and avoided ear phones in that section.   My mile pace crept over 11:00 for the first time. I hit the 50K mark at 5:02, a nice solid split time.

Finally on the Jordan River Parkway in North Salt Lake, there was more shade and more to look at.  I enjoyed it a lot better.   I’ve run all this section before and that was very helpful because I knew what to expect and knew all the turns.   This race uses paint on the paved trail to show the way and the paint doesn’t go away.  That continually bugged me.  I noticed that some of the cities had painted black point over last year’s markings but others still remained.  Races should not do that!  It is as bad as tagging.

To keep myself entertained, I tried to greet every person I came across with a cheerful hello.  It was really interesting that at least half of the people out for walks, runs, bike ride seemed shocked that I said hi to them and a quarter of the people would look away as I approached.  I know that I’m not much to look at and probably looked like a scary old man, but this urban road runner culture is much different than those who run trails, always cheerfully greeting you.

Even half of the runners who passed me during the race would not respond at all with my “Good job” or hellos.  Odd.  I don’t pretend to understand the Ragnar culture, but my theory from reading reports is that runners are focused on “kills”.  I guess you wouldn’t greet someone you just “killed.”  That is opposite of ultrarunning where you encourage your competitors and even stop to help them if needed.  But after awhile as I ran into the exchange areas, the crews and runners knew that I was a solo runner and they started to greet with with loud cheers and smiles.  That was wonderful.

Things continued well.  My pace was still pretty good at the 40-mile mark, just 11 more miles to go.  I was in high spirits and enjoyed singing away as I ran, further scaring every person I met.   Running along the river in Murray is the best part of the course.  The trail is well maintained and there is plenty of nice shade.  The clouds also came in and helped cool things down.  But overall, I was still somewhat dehydrated.  I probably should have ran with two water bottles.  The joints started to ache but I pushed ahead.

Nearing the finish, I hit the 50-mile mark at 8:48.  That was good, I had hoped to at least break 9:00.  My pace all day was similar to that at North Coast 24, two weeks ago.  On the bright side, I really didn’t feel any ill effects from last weeks 100.  If anything, the legs feel stronger.

I reached the finish at Gardiner Village at 9:03.  I finished about mid-pack for the relays.  The finish area was mostly populated by women teams waiting for their last runner to arrived.   They were all flabergasted that I ran the course solo.  The race director made a nice announcement and presented me my 1st place ribbon.  One lady insisted on taking my picture.   I felt great at the finish and could have continued on for a very long time.  It had been a great unique training run.

They won’t be doing this race next year, I heard that they can’t get the permit as the race is growing (and probably because they tag the trail like crazy).  I heard the RD mention that they might be moving to Antelope Island….huh?  That is Jim Skaggs territory.   Well, it would introduce the Ragnar community to the island.  They should instead go run the Golden Spike railway bed.  I wish there was a race there.

After finishing a solid race last weekend, North Coast 24 (107.7 miles) I went into the week wondering if I would recover in time to run a local race, Salt Flats 100.   I was signed up, but not really committed.  If I tried, It would be only five days recovery time between races.   With a couple days to go, I didn’t have anything major left to recover from, so I decided to go ahead and give it a try.   I still had doubts and decided to just treat it as a training run and see how it goes.

The Salt Flats 100 starts on the historic Bonneville Salt Flats Speedway.  The actual salt flats are 12 miles long and 5 miles wide covering just over 46 square miles.  Near the center, the crust is 5 feet thick in places.  That is 147 million tons of mostly table salt!  It is the site of some astounding land speed records over of more than 600 mph.  My top speed would be 7.9 mph.  The course then runs along the foothills of various “islands” above the salt and up and over five  significant passes.  This is an “easier” 100, but not a flat run.  I think it is about two hours tougher than its neighbor Antelope Island Buffalo Run 100.  It has a very generous cutoff time, so is great for first-timers or slower runners.

Tetsuro Ogata, right before the start

The weather would be on the warm side with beautiful sunny skies all day.  We were off and running across the salt speedway just as the sun was rising.  What a beautiful morning.  Fox News was out there reporting. See their story.

Video of the start of the race.

We first ran 14 miles or so across the famed speedway….very cool.  I didn’t go out fast and instead hung back and chatted with friends for several miles.

Three old guys out for their morning stroll. Brent Rutledge, Davy Crockett, and Jim Skaggs

I then started to struggle so kicked it up a notch, 8:30 pace to see if I could work out the kinks.  That helped for several miles and I passed a bunch of runners, but by the time we got off the speedway and near Floating Island, I was again struggling on the flats, not enough recovery, and heavy legs.   But I hung in there.

Galen Garrison photo

On the road between Floating and Silver Islands, I caught up with Trace Lund who was always cheerful and fun to talk to.  Word had spread that I had run 107 miles last week.  I would see Trace and his buddy, Pete Petersen on and off for the first 67 miles.  He told me that he had set a goal….to finish ahead of me.  Certainly he could beat an old man who ran 107 miles last week.  It was great fun and a little motivator for me to each time catch up with him.

I reached Aid Station #3 (mile 22.6) at the 3:46 mark, not terrible fast, but a solid start.  It was getting warm, but I looked forward to a change after all the flat terrain.  Over the next three miles, we would need to climb 1,000 feet to Cobb Peak Pass.   Trace and others, including buddy Brent Rutledge went on ahead as I was still at the station.

Charging up the hill past Trace, Pete, and Brent

As I started out to try to catch up, I was stunned to discover that I could easily run with speed up the road.  With all the flat miles over the last week, my uphill muscles were pleading for a chance to show what they could do.  Wow!   I’ve never experienced this in a 100 before, being able to run up hills, well into a race, with good speed.   I quickly caught up with the others and left them far behind.  I would experience this amazing high on every hill during the race.

Cobb Peak

We rose up the mountain, high above the white, flat salt far below.  The views were incredible.  The aid station at the top was amazing.  They had a lady down before you arrived to take your order for a grill cheese sandwich or something else.  When I arrived it was hot off the grill and I was in and out of the station in a hurry.  Down the other side of the pass, the trail was very technical with lots of deep gravel.  I ran past areas with caves where Indians once used as shelter, storage, and ceremonial sites.   It was peaceful.

Before the next aid station, was again a flat dirt road and my flat road muscles struggled.  Trace and Pete caught up as we arrived at Hastings Pass, which connects Silver Island to Crater Island.  The Donner/Reed company also went over this pass on their way to California back in 1846.  Last year I was the aid station captain there and cooked up a nice feast for the runners.  I arrived there (mile 31.6) at 5:41.   For 50K on this course, that is pretty good.

I left there for Crater Island to the north and was determined to stay ahead of Trace and others.  I passed a couple runners and looked forward to next tough climb up to another pass.  Sure enough, the legs again loved to keep a nice run going all the way up the hill.  Again I passed a runner.   The aid station on Crater Island is perched at the top of another pass on the north end of the island.  I was in good spirits as I arrived.   I looked down the other side and saw another runner that I could go after.

As I almost caught up to the next runner, I hit the toughest obstacle of the course, the mud flats.  For the next seven miles we would need to run around the west side of the island on these mud flats.  It was like running in snow or deep sand on the beach.  I saw three runners only a quarter mile ahead.  Surely I could catch them, it looked like they were barely moving.  But my efforts slowed and soon I was barely moving.   It became hot in the afternoon sun and it reflected off the flats and would leave me with a sunburn all over despite using sun screen.

I slogged along and eventually ran out of water.  A couple runners caught up and they were also out of water.  Soon dehydration set in and I started to suffer.  That next aid station just was too far away.   I finally arrived there, back at Hastings Pass (mile 50.4) at 10:19.  It took my 90 minutes longer than expected to make that loop.

I was thrashed.  Trace and Pete soon arrived too.   I drank and drank, three cans of ginger ale and other drinks.  I was in no hurry to continue, staying there for 17 minutes, trying to recover.  I mentioned to the others there that it typically took me a couple hours to fully recover after a bad case of dehydration.  I left with the guys, but Trace and Pete were doing much better and it wasn’t long until I could see them about a mile ahead on the dirt road around the west side of Silver Island.   I was really struggling and clocking only 13-minute miles.  Finally it was cooling down as the sun was setting.  That helped a ton.  It took 2.5 hours, but I eventually recovered.

As I ran into the 61.7-mile aid station, I was in high spirits, feeling super.  With the slow pace over the last few hours, my legs felt fresh.  I arrived there at the 13:21 mark as dusk was arriving.  Best of all, next up was another long hill, up and over Silver Island Pass.   100K was in the books.   Typically at the 60-mile point of a 100-miler, it was finally time to seriously race.  I put on my determined race face, found a specific “hill running” song, and was off and running up the hill at about 9-10 minute pace.   I quickly passed a couple runners ahead who gave me nice compliments.   Could I catch up to Trace and the others?   At the top of the hill it was time to turn on my light.  I ran hard down the other side and when I arrived at the next aid station, there was Trace and Pete, somewhat struggling.

I didn’t stay long because I saw lights ahead to catch.  We next had to again cross up and over the island using a different, rougher and steeper road.   I could still cruise and quickly caught another runner.  I was now in 8th place.   How long would I be able to keep running hard like this.  The answer soon came.   As I was cruising down the other side, I caught another runner, it was Tetsuro.  He was struggling with drowsiness.  I was now in 7th place and could see the next runner ahead.  But it all came crashing down, literally.  In a very rough, steep section, I tripped and knew that this would not end well.  Down I went and fell into sharp rocks and thorns.  My right arm was bloody all over and immediately started to swell.  Tetsuro caught up as I picked myself up and tried to dust myself off.

The wind left my sails.  I kept pace with Tesuro, but just couldn’t find the speed anymore.  I reached Aid #11 (mile 74.3) at the 16:05 mark.  The volunteers were so nice, helping me tend to my wounds, putting on about five bandages.   After 10 minutes, it was time to leave again.

The next section was thankfully uphill, which helped, but my speed was gone.  Once we reached the next pass, it was a long four-mile down-hill paved road run into Nevada.  I caught up and passed Tetsuro.   It was fun looking back and across the valley at all the other lights of runners and crews spread out for miles.

What, no slot machine?

I arrived at mile 80.6 at 17:56.  It was a party aid station of good friends, Mike Place, Dennis Ahern and others.  They immediately started to poke fun at me and made me laugh.  What a fun group and fun place.  They were full of enthusiasm at 1:00 a.m in the morning.  I wished I could stay, but Dennis said the next runner was only three minutes ahead, so I pushed on.

My feet were now the issue.  The salt and sand had been thrashing them.   After another mile, I decided it was time to do something.  I sat down and drained a bad blister on my heel, and watched Testsuro’s light go down the road.   For the next 10 miles, I would run in a section I had never run before.  At times I would be in doubt that I was going the right way and it would slow me down, but I always did stay on the course.

I was faced with a long 8-mile run rising 1,000 feet.  As the run started I took off.  There were lights within 100 yards of me, but I left them far behind.   I worried that they could see my light, and use it as a motivator to catch me, so for the next six miles, I ran by the full moon.  It was incredible.   I was able to push my lead over the next runners by nearly a mile, but just could not quite catch the next two runners ahead.  The valleys I ran through looked amazing in the moonlight.  I need to return there during the daylight some day.

Then I ran out of water again!   I had only one bottle and didn’t think about this long section.  Dehydration again set in and one runner eventually caught me as we arrived at the 90-mile aid station.  They had some great food there and it really helped.

It was the 20:30 mark, with ten more miles to go.   For the next several miles I played leap-frog with the other runner and we could see the lights of Tetsuro and Jeffrey Kasal, less than a half mile ahead.  As we came down out the hills, I passed the other runner for good, but just couldn’t catch the others.  My feet felt pretty thrashed and I didn’t look forward to the next seven miles of flat running.  I stretched my lead on the runners behind to about a half mile and just concentrated on keeping that lead.   Dawn arrived and it was a spectacular sight out on the salt flats.

Me, nearing the finish at dawn

Finally that finish came, with smiling cousin Vince Romney at the finish.  My finish time was 23:29:19.  Wow!   I was pleased to come in at under 24 hours.  I finished in 8th place out of about 52 starters.   It had been a wonderful day and night on the Salt Flats and the islands, but I was glad I was finished.   I proved to myself that I could run solid back-to-back 100s. I learned some new things about my ability to run up hills.  I hope I can do that again.

Now it is time for a little rest.  My 54th 100 finish is done. Thanks to Vince and all the others for putting on a super event.  Each year it gets better.

North Coast 24-hour is one of the premier 24-hour events in the country.  It is held at a park in Cleveland, Ohio, on the shore of Lake Erie, on a 100% paved trail.   The winner of a fixed-time race is the person who runs the furthest. I had intended to run this race a year ago, but my busted leg caused me to defer my entry until this year.  The RD was kind enough to move it.  This race normally attracts some of the best fixed-time runners in country and is usually the National Championship, but this year it wasn’t, so competition was a little down but the toughness was up.

Blizzard right before the start - Charles Elkins photo

When I got to the park Saturday morning, the wind was terrible, about 20 mph.  Then, with just 30 minutes to go, a snow squall moved in and it was a blizzard for about five minutes.  Wow!   The snow went away but the wind never did, blowing off of Lake Erie.

My personal aid station set up, ready to go

I set up a little personal aid station to include some personal things I wanted to have available.   There was a fine race aid station that I used more than half of the time, but it always is good to have what you need handy.  I bought a $14 table and $8 chair from WalMart.  It turns out that I really didn’t need either because there were plenty of picnic tables.

The course

I only knew a couple people running, although several others introduced themselves to me as we ran for the next 24 hours.   The track is a 0.9 mile track and has a gentle hill going up on one side of the course.   But the hill really never bothered me, was a welcome change.

The cold start - Christine Cowen photo

At 9:00 a.m., we were away.   I wasn’t sure of the course, so didn’t sprint out ahead like normal, but hung with the top 5.  My problem hamstring was letting me know it was there and would do so the entire race, but it wasn’t terrible.

I immediately discovered that my pace time goals were not going to work because of the wind.  The headwind was on the side of the course where the gentle uphill was, and the tailwind where the slight downhill was.  So I treated the course like it had two sections and I adjusted my pace accordingly.  While others tried to keep a steady pace, I slowed a little with the headwind and then tried to push 7:00-8:00 pace on the tailwind section.  That seemed to work great for me much of the day.

Race headquarters at Edgewater Park, not far from downtown - Pat Dooley photo

I also concentrated on 5-lap segments.   I needed to reduce the time I stopped at the aid station, so early in the race I forced myself not to stop between those 5-lap (4.5 mile) segments.  Things went well.  I  ran the first 1/2 marathon in about 1:55, and hit the marathon distance at about 4:05.  I was about 15 minutes behind my goal time and slower than Across the Years a few months ago, but I was still feeling fine.

The waves crashed all day. - Pat Dooley photo

The main factor was still the wind.  Around noon, it really started to blow, probably more than 25 mph.   I had to stop to put on yet another layer.  The temperature was still in the 30s and the windchill was much lower.  I was now wearing three layers including a wind break.  I kept those three layers on for the rest of the way.  I also kept a ski hat on for all the way.   In the morning I had mittons on.   It was COLD.  But I enjoyed it and was just glad it wasn’t hot.

Video taken about mile 15

Me, wind battered, but still running

On the section of the course near the beach, the wind was blowing so bad that sand was blowing up across the trail.  Every couple hours a guy would have to come out with a snow shovel to clear the paved trail.  Other times we were running across sand in that section.

I hit the 50K mark at about  5:00 which was OK.  For the first time I left the course for about 50 feet to check the screen for the standings.   I was in about 8th place, but there were a cluster of 3-4 of us who were on the same lap.  It looked like the top four would be tough to keep up with, so I set a goal to finish in the top 5.

One thing I quickly noticed was the distance for each lap.  My Garmin was showing more.  I know they measure courses with the shortest possible route, but it is impossible to run that exact route, passing people and just not concentrating on tight lines.  It looked like I would run close to two miles extra across 100 miles.   That is quite a difference.  Others were showing the same with their watches.

In 8th place, mile 44

I hit the 50-mile mark (Garmin distance) at about 8:38.  While I was about 20 minutes behind my goal, I was pleased.  That was only 21 minutes off my PR time.  Despite the wind, I was still cranking along just fine with only minor problems to deal with.  My pace goal was targeted to hit PRs at all the ultra distances and reach 100 in sub-20-hours.  It felt like I was still on target.   In the standings, I was still doing fine, staying with that cluster of 4-5 runners, nearly on the same lap.  I was able to start identifying them.

Video taken about mile 56

Me, still pushing the pace in the wind - Mark Tichinel photo

One of the front-runners started to have trouble.   I stopped to try to help him as he was laying on the grass with stomach craps and feelings of bloating in his chest.   I tried to give him some advice and I think shortly later he quit because I never saw him on the track after that.

In 8th place at mile 56

I hit the 100K mark (Garmin) at about 11:06.  I was 30 minutes behind pace goals, but I knew I was doing just fine.   A runner, David Stores, from St. Louis, caught up with me and started to run with me.  He introduced himself, mentioning that he loved my Utah Lake run stories.   I noticed on the board that we could see finishing each lap, that we were exactly at the same distance, but he was running the 12-hour race.   As we ran, I could tell he was helping me a bunch, getting my mind off the normal pain.  I pointed out to him that I thought he was the leading 12-hour race..  He had not realized that.  I knew that I was doing fine if I was tied with the leader of the 12-hour run.  He later won that race by a couple miles.

Joe Jurczyk photo

The sun went down after a long windy day.  The wind also died down a little. The waves from Lake Erie were no longer crashing as hard as usual.   At the 12-hour mark, I had reached about 66.6 miles, 2/3rds of the way to 100.  To break 20 hours, I needed to run only 33.3 in the next 8 hours.  I was confident that I could do that.

I was still running constantly.  The only time I walked a little was at the aid station, but elsewhere, I was always running.  I don’t think in any race I have ever delayed walking stretches this long in the race.  Most every other runner, except for the top 10 runners, were now walking long stretches.   I was now in 6th place, doing well.

But a little confidence can be over-confidence when running huge distances.  It very quickly got colder.   There was a constant bitter cold breeze all night.  The wind shifted from the Northwest, to the Northeast, coming right off the lake.  There was a long section, along the shoreline that was now a bitter cold headwind.

I first dealt with the cold well.  One strategy was to jump into a porta-potty and sit for a minute, out of the wind, to bring my heart-rate down.  I had done that periodically for that past several hours.   I started walking stretches at about mile 75.  Because I was going slower, my body temperature went down.   By mile 78, things started to really fail.  I was becoming hypothermic, stumbling around, getting very drowsy, and struggling to keep a pace quicker than about 18-minute miles.  The track seemed deserted.   I wasn’t alone in my struggles.

Finally, I had no choice but to go warm up.   I grabbed the keys to the car and went to recover.  I grabbed bacon and orange juice and sat in the car, waiting for the heater to warm me up.  I first told myself to only stay 10 minutes, but that turned into 20 minutes.   I noticed that many others were doing the same thing.   My sub-20-hour goal went out the window into the cold and I knew it.

Back out in the cold, things improved for awhile.  I could run again. I noticed that two of the front-runners were still in shorts and one was in short sleeves.  I could not comprehend that.  I was now in four layers on top.

Struggles continued.  It was nice and peaceful, and at times it seemed like there were only about 20 runners on the course.   The miles clicked by slowly.   Miles 80-100 seemed like a crawl.   Soon, I noticed a serious problem.  My eyes seemed to be freezing up.  I think they were becoming wind-burned.   My eyes wanted to close and that doesn’t work well when you are so very tired.  Finally, no choice again, I had to go warm up again.  This time it was for about 15 minutes.

When I went back out, I decided to grab my sun glasses and wear them for protection.   When I arrived at the aid station, I noticed that they were giving funny looks to each other about me.   I quickly explained why I was running with dark glasses at night.  Soon I noticed others doing the same.   Later, I heard one of the front-runners comment that he could barely see.

At mile 91 I had to stop again.  This time my bad leg was hurting near the fracture area.  I had to rest it, but only stopped about 10 minutes.  I decided that I would walk most of the way to reach 100.  It was slow going but the leg started to feel better and I started to run again.

My long stops probably totaled about an hour.  I went to check the standings and saw a was in 11th place.  That was disappointing.  But, there was still a group of runners close to me.

100 miles finally arrived.  I believe by Garmin distance it was at 21:48 and by course distance about 22:15.   It was disappointing to not break 20 hours, but 21:48 is very respectable for the weather conditions.

Dawn arrived and the wind finally died down. I had only traveled 30 miles during the night.  It would be a beautiful morning.   After I did a lap past 100, I stopped to check the standings and it looked like at least three runners ahead of me packed it in at 100 miles and quit.  I was now in 8th place.  Could I climb higher?

Video taken during the last hour

Finally, without the terrible wind, I felt like a new runner.  There were 90 minutes left, time to run like crazy.  And I did run crazy, the only one running hard out there.  As I ran past the aid station, I would get cheers as people watch the board an saw how many miles I had run.  With an hour to go, I checked the standings.  I was now in 6th place.   The 5th place guy was more than a mile ahead of me.  Could I catch him?   Yes, I could.  At about mile 105 I passed who I thought was the guy.  I think he noticed when he finished the lap and probably saw my name on the board with the same distance as him.

For the next lap he really pushed hard to try to catch me.  I just pushed it even harder.  But by the end of the lap he was only about 30 yards behind and closing on me.  This was going to be very hard.  But as I turned the first corner of the next lap, I could not see him behind.   He indeed had stopped.  Maybe I crushed his will. 5th place was mine.

Me, finishing one of the final laps (finally no hat) - Joe Jurczyk photo

What about 4th place?  A half hour earlier that guy was close to 3 miles ahead, but he was walking.   I lapped who I thought he was.  I was now a full lap down.   I continued to push pretty hard.   It turns out that I finished just 0.2 miles out of 4th place.  Close, almost caught him.

I ran at total of 107.7 miles in 24-hours, finished in 4th place out of 52 runners, and won my age group.  Most of the top 10 runners were much younger fast guys.  Not bad for an old mountain runner.  I felt great at the finish, hardly sore at all, wishing I had more time to catch the runners ahead.  It will have to wait for another race.

It was great fun going up and down the ridges.  Because of the fire, the ridge tops now are very runnable, no more thick scrub and spider webs.  You can make good time, but I took it easy, enjoying the night and doing plenty of sight-seeing.

Once I reached the true summit about about 7,750, going further, somehow I took a wrong turn.  I was puzzled that somehow I missed noticing the main road….well that is because I started running on the wrong ridge, that would have got me to the right place, but no road and much steeper down.  I figured things out, came down to the main road, ran up and found the right series of roads.  With all the towers up there it is pretty confusing which is the right road, but now I know.  I finally connected to the ridge road to take me all the way to Soldier’s pass, about 18 miles.

Dawn arrived and the light reflecting off of Utah Lake was pretty amazing.  Eventually the road descends into a short canyon on the south end.  There was a shooter there that made me nervous with his handgun, but he noticed me and I ran by.

Once I hit Redwood Road, about the 20-mile mark, I turned and started running home on the pavement.  I went about 8 more miles, and with just six more miles to go, I called home so I wouldn’t be late for the birthday activities.  It was a wonder fun.  Here is the video and photos:

At times, my adventure runs are the “spur of the moment” type things. If the weather looks good, and I have the time, I’ll quickly make plans, get the OK from my wife, and take off on my own to go run in some remote place. This time, I decided to return to one of my favorite places to run — the remote back country of Capitol Reef National Park in Utah. This is a unique park, no entrance fee, and very few people in the back country. I’ve been there five times before and was ready for a nice long run. I stayed the night in Torrey and hit the trail at dawn. This video tells the story.

With a couple miles to go during my morning loop, I passed a couple of backpackers coming out who gave me stunned looks as I ran past, carrying hardly anything.   Later, about six miles later they drove past me at the top of the Water Pocket Fold and were all smiles, cheering me on (They were the black vehicle coming up the road in the video.)

My afternoon run in Upper Muley Twist was particularly nice because I had never run there and just had to go by memory, reading about the trail many years ago.  Somehow I stayed on the right route and enjoyed just “playing it by ear.”  It had been a great 43 miles.   As I ran, I thought about how wonderful it is to be able to do this, just run all day, without concern, at times a dozen miles away from anyone else.

I returned to Torrey by dusk, and early in the morning went out for another run, not really planned, but I went to the Great Western Trailhead, north of Torrey, looked quickly at a map there, and just started running.   My goal was to ready the high plateaus.  It was chilly up there, staying in the upper 30s.  I climbed up to 9,200 feet and enjoyed all the spectacular views from on top.   I really enjoyed a long seven-mile downhill and for the first time in 15 months was able to pound the downhill without injury pain.  That was a very nice 20-mile run and I discovered plenty of new areas to run.

I was privileged to be asked to be part of this week’s Ultrarunner Podcast.  I had no idea what they would ask me.  It was fun.  My son was a little puzzled that apparently we moved to Colorado without telling him, and he lives at home with us.

Listen here