Flagstaff to Grand Canyon - Stagecoach Line 100 Race Report

While I've ran several hundreds, this race definitely had the longest name.  Its a mouthful.

I was in the Mood for a hundred.  I think running 1 or 2 a year is a good number for me, also I feel that as long as you're running fairly consistently, 1 or 2 hundreds a year is all that is required to maintain 100 mile fitness.  Just a guess though.

So before I knew it, I had registered for the inagural F2G 100.  I registered several weeks before running UROC, so I had it in the back of my mind that recovery from UROC was going to be key in getting ready for a 100 miler only 3 weeks after a very difficult 100K.  

I think I showed more restraint than usual, although I probably threw in a few too many hard efforts on the treadmill in week 2.  I did really show taper discipline and only ran once in the 4 days leading up to the race.  Furthermore, my roomate Katie was kind enough to stretch my legs out for me occasionally, even if I did complain the entire time.  

Several things appealed to me about F2G.  First, the late start on Saturday (2pm).  I knew the drive to flagstaff was a doozy, having done a similar road trip to the Grand Canyon a few months earlier.  Thinking I could stretch the trip into a nice long leisurely drive, poor planning and life got in the way.

First problem, I ended having a very important, can't miss, meeting on Friday afternoon in Boulder.  Secondly, both the folks who generously volunteered to crew/pace with me couldn't leave until Friday after-work.  Oh well, and thank god it was a late start.

Somehow, someway, we had no traffic down I-70 on the way to Moab.  Driving through Monument Valley under a full moon with no other cars in sight was a treat.  The guys were great, and insisted I catch some zzz's while they drove.

Sunset in the mtns driving down I-70

Polar bear express under a full moon

Look ma, no flash!

Long story short, we arrived in Flagstaff around 6:30am.  I think.  I can't really remember.  We ate breakfast at a diner featured in Diners Drive-ins and Dives which was a total let down.  You suck Guy Feiri.  

Then we drove to the race start, found the gate locked and decided we were early.  Time for a nap!

Woke up after about 45 minutes of sleep and decided to double check all my drop bags etc.  Got everything squared away and tried to go to the race start again.  This time, success!

This being a fairly small race it was a very relaxed atmosphere. I kind of felt like the odd man out as it seemed all the runners knew each other.  Def a locals event.  We took some pictures, Ian Torrence, the RD gave us a short speech, we clapped for some volunteers who were critical in making the race happen.  And then we lined up for gun and then we ran.

Pre-race words

Inaugural hundred milers

Sure, maybe I got a little caught up in the excitement of the race.  Maybe the fact that I was running next to ultralegend Eric Clifton also played a role in my early race excitability.  Regardless, I found myself throwing out the race plan early and shooting for the moon!

Honestly, the first 20 miles of this course is incredibly, undeniably, ultrarunnery, special.  A nice long gradual climb to seperate out the field, then a quick downhill, a brief stint on some county roads, and then my favorite part of the day.  A long but quick and smooth descent on buttery soft singletrack through aspen groves full of golden majesty.  Yeah, that good.

Glorious singletrack for miles (Photo by David Blanchard)

More Aspen Groves (Photo from F2G website)

Unfortunately during this section my nipples started to chafe.  Oye.  Coming into the aid station at mile 21, Andrew was quick to act and smartly taped my nips right up.  Now thats crewing!  I grabbed my headlamp and was back on the trail.

My initial race plan was to come into the mile 21.5 aid station at 3.5 hours.  Whelp, here am I running into the aid station at 2 hours and 53 minutes.  Crap thats way too fast.  At this point a lead pack had formed consisting of myself, Michael Versteeg and Brian Tinder.  We all agreed we were going out too hard.  And no one slowed down a step.  I should point out around this part of the story that both these guys beat me quite handily at UROC (by hours in fact) and I was well aware of this.  We continued our downhill gallop, occasionally a member of the pack would stop for a bathroom break or what-not but not much separation was gained.

Aid stations came and went, chicken broth was consumed, and darkness became the predominant theme.  Around mile 40 aid station, I pulled ahead of Brian who was struggling with some back spasms and found myself jogging along a dirt road all alone.  I tried to find a comfortable pace and decided to turn on a podcast to help keep me company.  Speedgoat Karl reminded me that "100 miles is not that far" and I kept moving along.  Sometime during this section three things happened 1) Mike caught up and passed me 2) I got really cold 3) I ran out of water. 

Slightly discouraged by Michael's easy pass, I tried to keep on motoring, but found myself floundering a little bit.  No biggie, I've run a long ways already today I reminded myself, just focus on maintaining your momentum.

Then a long dirt road section, and lights ahead, this must be a major aid station, where I knew my crew was waiting with warmer clothes, new shoes, etc.  I ran at a decent clip along the dirt road and too my surprise found Michael, who must have been having his own low spot, jogging down the road. Greetings, and rhythm were shared and we ran it into the aid station.  

My awesome crew was waiting, I put on my Sugoi Firewall tights (which I expected to be overkill but were perfect), and fixed some other things.  I think I ate some pizza too.  In a hurry to get out of the aid station and get moving again, I took off.  In retrospect I wish I had stayed at the aid station and fueled a little bit more.  I'm rusty at hundreds.

The next section was very challenging for me.  I could not stay on the trail for the life of me.  It wound in and out of scraggly juniper trees and the occasional wash-out would lead me astray.  Running down the path the water had carved all of a sudden my trail would dissapere under a tree or off a ledge and I'd realize I'd gone the wrong way and backtrack.  This theme continued for a while.

Michael soon caught up to me as a bumbled about in the woods, and I gladly let him guide me through this section.  Somewhere around mile 65 I felt fatigue hit me like a hammer and Michael ran on without me.  It was the last I'd see of him.  I bumbled around looking for trail a few more times but eventually found my way to the next aid station.  It was around then that my right eye started to bother me.  It became hazy.  Like looking through a glass of watered-down milk.  It only got worse as the night progressed, not helping my navigating skills.

Soon I found myself at mile 67 and picking up my pacer Mark.  Excited to gain some company and also wanting to try to catch up to Michael I did not stay at this aid station very long either.  Stupid.  Should have ate and drank, especially when I was starting to fight the sleep demon.  I wanted a nap damnit.

I don't remember many details from this section, except Mark kept me entertained with stories and did his best to keep me eating.  It seemed to go on forever and I felt like I was running in circles as we ran through an endless series of small descents and ascents.  My right hip flexor was starting to really bother me and I kept catching my right toe, as I couldn't lift the leg very well.  At least once we came to a few not-so-great marked junctions of trail and luckily always chose the correct path.  I also seem to recall attempting to show Mark my layup form while we were talking about basketball.  That ended poorly and the scabs from my crash are still healing.  I also started to think that my headlamp was getting dimmer and dimmer, but that seemed unlikely as I most lamps these days have regulators that maintain a constant brightness.  Some post-race reading informed me that the Petzl Myo does not have this feature.  Good to know.  Always use the Fenix from now on. 

Still in 2nd, Mark and I came running into the Hull cabin aid station where Andrew was waiting to pace me for the last 19.5.  Again I sat down and had some snacks, but probably not enough.  Then the unthinkable - 3rd place came running into the aid station, and he looked FRESH.  I hurried out, a mistake, wanting to put some distance between myself and 3rd.  A long climb after Hull and then back onto to trail, Andrew had to remind me occasionally where the trail was.  I swear, it was my dimming headlamp...  3rd place, Bret Sarnquist soon came jogging on by, looking very strong, man that guy ran a well paced race, big congrats to him.  I removed my contact thinking that was what was causing the problems with my eye, and my vision did not improve at all.  Needless to say I was quite worried, but there wasn't anything I could do about it at this point.

The sun was up, I felt maybe a little revitalized, but not much.  I was blown up and I knew it, things hurt, but the sleepiness and fatigue was the worst I've ever dealt with.  I could barely lift my right leg because my hip flexor hurt so badly.  So, I went into survival mode.  Quiet, trying to keep moving.  Andrew kept me company and kept me eating, but I knew that there was nothing left in the tank.  I went out too hard, went for the big W, and now I was suffering the consequences.  In retrospect, still totally worth it.  The first 60ish miles were so fun.  

A few more aid stations and then only 2.5 miles left!  I was so tired.  It was going to be over soon

Across the finish line and found a chair.  In typical fashion, I was not feeling so good.  Andrew and Mark got my cot set up for me and then I'm asleep.  When I woke up my eye was already feeling better.  Fatigue/cold/altitude/dry air, I'm still not sure the cause.  It was very weird. 

Ian hooked me up with my belt-buckle, the real prize for running a hundred, and we piled into the car for the drive back to Colorado.  With a quick stop at the Grand Canyon of course.

We got back to Denver at 4:30 am on Monday.  Wow.  What an insane series of events.  Would I do it again?  Yes.  Would I be able to talk Andrew and Mark into 72 hours of sleepless driving/running, I doubt it?  Thanks a ton to those guys for helping with the adventure. 

Final Thoughts

Ill try to remember to eat more at aid stations in the future and be in less of a hurry.  A hurry is fine for a 50 mile race, but 100 miles requires so much more attention to the little things.  My quads handled the run very well, it was my hip flexor that bothered me so much, I'm not used to running so much flat I think.  Perhaps running in a pair of Salomon Senses was too little shoe for that long of an event.  Going for it is fun, just be willing to suffer the consequences if you blow up.  The second half of the race course seemed much rockier and more technical than the first half.  Perhaps that is a good tidbit of advice for anyone racing this one in the future.  I suspect that this will become a very popular race down the road, and my pedestrian 19:30 won't even land in the top ten.

Bad day at the races, So what? - I still had fun

UROC 100k Race Report

Been seriously neglecting my blogging duties.  Sorry, I'd say I didn't have time, but I did.  I guess I was just lacking something to write about.  

But now I have a story to share.  Its called, I got ROC'd at UROC/remembering how to have fun at races.  

I had a really good summer of training and racing.  There is no way I could complain about the two top ten finishes at the Leadville series of races.  But then I had to go back to Michigan, finish my dissertation, move out of my apartment, defend my dissertation, move to Colorado, start a new job, and hopefully train as much as possible.  

I did all those things, but some of them I did a better job at than others.  Actually I trained really well through late August and into mid September.  However, after starting a new job doing research at the University of Colorado, I was noticing that my system just felt stressed.  OK, I need to rest, I'll start my taper for UROC.

UROC is the first of the series of races I signed up for to keep myself out of trouble this fall.  Its the unofficial "World Championships" of ultrarunning, but actually it was the championship race for Skyrunning.  This meant that it drew an incredible field of the best runners in the world, and I was excited to see what I could do relative the what is generally considered some of the fittest endurance athletes in the world. 

In fact, I was so excited that I was vibrating the entire day before the race, it'd been a while since I was so excited mentally to go out there and run run run.  Maybe it was because I'd been spending a lot of time cooped up in the lab. 

Sammy and I - ready to party

It snowed a lot up high the night before the race, and by up high I mean above 11,000 feet.  That's really high up if you're not from Colorado.  Like two miles up.  

Anyways, after figuring out what I thought was appropriate clothing, I found myself giving Sammy a high-five and making my way towards the starting line for the start of what could only be something EPIC.  The gun sounds and we're off.  A stampede along the road until we hit the ski slopes in Breckenridge.  As soon as we hit the climb I knew something was wrong.  I felt really good on the flat, then going up had NOTHING in my legs.  Scary Nothing.  Like a mile into a 60+ mile race scary.  Whatever, I've run enough of these things to know that sometimes you just gotta be patient and stick it out and things will turn around.  

On the climb up I kept the elites in sight and watched Sage, Dakota, Killian, Rob Krar, and Emelie Forseburger-doodle go flying down the singletrack towards Frisco.  Yay, my turn to go down.  Then people started passing me.  Thats weird, not a lot of folks can usually pass me going downhill, quads kinda feel achy.  Uh oh, flashes of previous poor races came rolling back into my mind.  I pull myself together, keep running and find that as we get closer to Frisco (and lose altitude) I start to reel back in the people who passed me earlier.

Frisco Aid Station.  Its cold, but not terrible.  Ryan informs me that I am currently 5th woman.  I get a good laugh out of his joke, slurp down a half frozen gel, and run back out of town.  No clue what is ahead.

I'm starting to realize this might not be "my day."  I've been blessed to have a lot of good races; perhaps because of my grad student-ness, I was typically well rested/unstressed before races.  Shiiiit.

Going up.  up.  up.  I talk to some folks, and then they run away from me.  Glarg, competitive spirit does not like it.  I try to go harder.  I feel sick.  Almost puke.  Slow down.  Long race, not even 20 miles in right now.  You'll catch them later.  

Holy crap, all of a sudden we're above tree line and there is...  ~10 inches of snow on the ground. Slip.  Slide.  No motivation to run hard.  Francesca Canepa trucks on by me.  She looks super strong.  Euro power.   Wait, I'm in a good mood?  Look around.  Crazy wild terrain, where in the world am I?

12,500 feet up running along a ridge line looking out over the 10 mile range at some jagged peaks covered in fresh snow on a blue bird day.  Oh.  Ok, ok ok, this is still fricking awesome.  Descending now, into the Copper Mountain ski area.  Really muddy with all the snow melt below tree line.  No problem for me.  I like mud.

Hmmm, GPS says 28 miles and I'm not at the 26.5 mile aid station yet.  Consistent theme throughout the day.  See Ryan, Liz, Tiffany, and Justin when I finally get to the aid station.  No BS to Ryan, bad day for me, just going to enjoy myself.  Then 12 miles of road.  Legs fall off again, while going up.  Some guy passes me.  His pacer is carrying all his shit for him, #cheating #idontcare.  I'm walking, but walking fast...  Im whining in my head right now.  No, I'm such a stud to be walking so fast. 

New aid station up ahead, I act like I've been running the entire time.  Oh hey, its Geoff Roes.  I make a few jokes, he laughs, now the paved bike path heads downhill.  I jog, then run, then run fast.  I'm flying.  I pass at least 4 or 5 people.  I take a gel, I feel really good, make jokes at another aid station, keep the mood light, stay positive.  Now I'm running up this big climb.  Ok, hitting about 11,000 feet and snow again, I'm in a strong pow-hike, no one is gonna catch me at this rate, 42 miles in and I might be finding my form.  Some guy goes running by me like its no big thing.  I deflate physically/mentally (not sure), laugh, and decide not to suffer so much and relax.

I get to the top of the second to last climb.  Coughing.  A lot.  Kinda deep chest rattle.  Pulmonary edema?  Don't be dramatic.  Eat a gel, instantly barf neon green into the snow.  Lemon lime gel.  Eat another gel.  Stays down.  Run down fast.  Start seeing other runners who were way ahead of me.  I'm actually catching up.  Get to Minturn, GPS watch says 56 miles, aid station says 51.  Someone is lying.  Bachelorette party offers me a cigarette, I strongly consider taking a drag.  Decide no.  Grab my headlamp, and for no known reason decide to change shoes.  Bad idea.  Eat two turkey sandwiches on my way out, to the amusement of many passerbys I'm jugging Turkey Sandwich #2, headlamp, gloves, jacket, shirt, waterbottle.  

Up.  Up.  Up.  This again?  I catch a few more people, feeling strong at this altitude.  Starts getting dark.  Turn on headlamp.  Uh oh.  Not working.  Bad.  Arrogantly didn't think I would use it at this race - didn't change my batteries out from Leadville pacing duties (4pm-4am).  Rotate batteries.  Maybe 20 lumens.  

Top of last climb.  Eat soup.  Too hot, burn mouth, spit it out.  Politely ask them to put water in it.  Try again.  Good.  Ask for soup in my waterbottle.  Get a weird look.  Confirm that is what I desire.  Sipping on chicken broth all the way down the mountain.  

Where am I?  Lost again.  Turn around, go back up.  Find trail.  See a person with a pacer, dash ahead of them.  Stay ahead.  Run off trail into bushes and into a branch.  People behind ask if I'm OK, yes, just lost.  They guide me back on trail.  I dash ahead again.  I'm being stubborn.  OK lost again.  Last time I swear.  No reflective tape on flags, very few markings, headlamp almost dead, blah blah, poorly marked course at night.  Now the people who've I've been dashing in front of are gone.  Where did they go?

Finish line in sight.  Just finish.  Almost go the wrong way.  Finished in under 14 hours (30th at the "World Championships"), get belt buckle (all I really care about).  Coughing, trying to find Pizza, end up in a room that was supposed to be locked.  Its all set up for a wedding reception in the morning.  Am I hallucinating?  Smell Pizza, FIND PIZZA.  Chair.  People who I kept dashing in front of finish.  They got lost, despite the fact the pacer had run up that road earlier that day.  See!  Not just me.   I swear.  Hot tub.  Beer.  Sleep.

And that folks, is my UROC summary.  Everyone said it was long.  Probably 4 miles long.  66-67 miles, depending on how many times you got lost (67 miles for me!).  My legs honestly felt dead tired if I tried to go fast, they didn't ever really hurt, I had no cramping issues to speak of, but struggled mightily to find energy and keep food down when I got up above 10,000 feet.  That being said, I had a fantastic time, the pressure of racing hard was gone because I knew I just didn't have it.  Its nice to know that I'm strong enough to just kinda meander through a race on a sub-par day and still find the finish line.  I can't help but wonder if the race had been another 33 miles, would I have reeled in more people?  Despite no speed, I felt capable of moving at my pace all day, probably because I was going so slow earlier.

First year races are a gamble.  They need to figure out the distance, and mark the course better for night time running.  I believe 73 people finished out of 215 starters or something.  Thats a very very low finishing rate.  Perhaps that speaks to how hard the race is, but also how demoralizing it is to get lost/find out you have 5 miles further to go than you thought.  

Silver Rush 50 Race Report

How did I end up back here again? I thought as Ryan, Liz, Justin and I drove into Leadville.  Having run the marathon just two weeks ago, this felt strangely familiar.

Yesterday we watched the bike race and got some...  beta... on the trail conditions and what the course was like.  In typical Leadville fashion, a lot of the race took place on old mining roads, which was fine with me, while the aesthetic nature of single track is lost, you do gain wonderful views from the open roads.

Somewhere before the race started, I lost Ryan and Liz and found Ryan and Alaina.  Im just that awkward single guy tagging along with various couples.  After taking care of some early morning business, Ryan (Case) and I shuffled towards the starting line, which coincidentally was at the base of a steep hill.  First one to the top of the hill wins a prize (no, really they do).

In there somewhere

I walked up the hill.  And the masses swept around me.  Then once we hit the single track on top of my hill we started running for real.  Maybe I was running too fast, but something didn't feel right.  I was off my game, physically.  That put me in a bad place mentally almost immediately.  With something like 2 miles in, I was already feeling less enthusiastic than I needed to.  Just keep grinding along, you'll be good bro.

I think part of this feeling was that the first 10 miles is essentially all uphill.  Sometimes the up can be deceiving in that you don't even notice its going up, but your legs feel it.  Add that to the fact that you're running at 10,000 feet above sea level, and its easy to get down.  I kept running trying to find my rhythm.  It wouldn't come.  Where was Hagy and Jenny, my faithful crew who always lift my spirits?  This race felt like Mohican, compacted into one shorter race, with all the ups and downs I experienced there.

I was feeling particularly discourage as the trail just kept going up and up.  Looking back I have to laugh at my thoughts during the first little bit of the race.  I was thinking about dropping.  That would've been terrible, dropping only 10 miles into the race.  Oh, this just isn't your day, blah blah excuses excuses.

Then I heard someone belting out "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, his name is my name too".  I immediately knew this was none other than the Ryan Case.  I gladly ran with Ryan for the next 10 miles, finally, being able to talk to someone (and finishing the long uphill) my brain and legs came around and I was in slightly a better place.  Along the way we went through the Printer Boy aid station, where I saw Gary a friend of a friend whom I had just met, but again, it was super motivating to see a smiling face.

My climbing legs were working really well on the ascent to the high point of the course on Ball Mountain.  Run run run hike run hike hike run run run run hike etc.  you get the point.  The combo of a strong power hike and efficient running cadence really helps me cruise these kinds of sections.  In fact I love climbs (10%+) that dictate this sort of effort, rather than 10 mile climbs at 6%.

Smiling still

I was finally starting to feel good, if not a little dehydrated.  The aid stations for this route were approximately 6-7 miles apart, which in the mountains can be 2 hours if you're not moving fast enough.  My little handheld bottle was not cutting it.

Its too bad I didn't notice this earlier and make an effort to drink more fluids at the aid stations.  Because soon the combination of my aggressive fueling strategy and lack of water caught up with me and I was full on nauseated.  I had made it down the pass that went over Ball Mountain (mile 21ish) and was heading towards the turn around point when I was forced to go from a run to a jog, or else I was going to lose my cookies.  I saw the leaders coming back towards me from the turnaround and tried to give some encouragement and not puke on them.

This continued for way too long.  I had gone through the turn around and was heading back up the mountain, feeling terribly sick while still trying to get in calories and water.  Since this was an out and back section, I was now seeing a lot of other runners, which actually helped lift my mood a lot.  Despite the sick feeling, the constant interaction with others helped me forget about my stomach and just focus on saying hi to people and running the gradual climbs on the mining roads before the steep climb.  In fact, it wasn't until mile 28ish that I let out a huge belch and felt like I was given an instant energy boost.  I suspect my stomach finally emptied all the fuel I had been forcing down into my intestine where it could be absorbed.  I really cranked through this section taking risks on the downhill and generally enjoying myself.

Some reference points added.  My graphic design/computer skills are out of control these days

I caught two or three more people before reaching the Printer Boy aid station, but noticed that one runner behind me would not be deterred.  What the hell, no one gains ground on me late in races like that!  I ran really hard after Printer Boy, despite the wicked long climb, and then turned around.  This guy was 3 steps behind me.  He said "hi" and we started to chat.  I immediately realized it was Mike Aish, a former Olympian and 2:12 marathoner.  hah.  Of course it is.  No wonder I can't outrun this guy.

We ran together for a good 10-12 miles.  He was super friendly and was giving me encouragement as my stomach had started to sour again.  I don't think I took on any fuel for the last 1:30 of the race, which is just a terrible idea.  But I didn't want to barf, and have lots of other excuses.  Mike and I ran together, and he told me he was just out for fun and had done a 7.5 hour run the day before.  I felt like we were crawling along for this last 10 mile stretch, which is a hard section, because although its slightly downhill, the gradient isnt enough to really carry you, and you have to actually run it, which if you're hammered like I was, its torture.  I couldn't believe how much I was looking forward to anything that had an incline, I felt so much better going up than down.  Somewhere along this way, Mike suggested that I had 4th all wrapped up and he would let me finish ahead of him out of kindness.  No way was I going to let this guy, who was clearly the better runner and just keeping me company, let me finish in front of him.  I was already planning out my "fall" right before the finish line so that he would be forced to beat me.

Finish.  Where are my sandals?

Luckily right around then Mike, the course record holder and last year's winner, told me we had 5k left, to which I replied "well get after it!"  He sprinted away and put 2 minutes on me in a mile.  I realized I was close to the finish, put on my game face and ran the last mile or so to the end.  My feet hurt so fricking bad I couldn't wait to rip off my shoes and get my flip flops on.

Overall I was pleased with my performance, but I am sure I lost at least 5 minutes due to the nausea and another 5 due to being a total and complete wuss on the last 10 mile decent.  Oh well, always nice to have room for improvement right?

Leadville Trail Marathon Race Report

I'm a little nervous.  Its been awhile since I've run a race.  Like 6 months.  I haven't raced since Yankee Springs in January.  Now I'm standing on the starting line for the Leadville Trail Marathon, advertised to have 6,300 feet of gain over the 26 mile out and back course that is run entirely at over 10,000 feet above sea level.

Since I've been in Colorado I've had the opportunity to run with a bunch of great people, and most of them also signed up for the marathon.  We camped out in Leadville the night prior to the race after hanging around the cool little mountain town all day.

Then some guy fires off a shotgun and the stampede begins.  I'm a little amazed how hard everyone is running from the get-go.  Its faster than I'm used to.  And all uphill, errr maybe up mountain is more appropriate?  Soon I'm gasping for air.

A wee bit more climbing than I'm used to

I get a glimpse of the trail ahead.  More switch backs and more climbing.  Hmmm.  I'll slow down a touch I think.  I'm still gasping for air.  Damnit.

The first aid station is at about 4 miles into the race.  If you can't tell by looking at the elevation profile, its quite a climb up to that point.  I got some water and a gel and was on my way.  I think at this point I had settled into 25-30th place and was just trying to keep moving at a reasonable pace.  I typically try to move through aid stations as quickly as possible, and I continued this.  After cresting the Ball Mountain aid station and running quickly down the old mining roads, I started feeling a little better.  A combination of some downhill and scaling back the pace a little bit seemed to be paying dividends.  I occasionally looked around, and was greeted with gorgeous views of mountains and bright blue sky.

Survival mode

Coming through the aid station at the bottom of Mosquito pass, I really started feeling better.  Which is strange as you are still running at 10,000 feet above sea level.  I had passed a few more people, including some fellow retching and making awful noises in the bushes.  The climb up Mosquito starts off actually fairly gradual, and after a good amount of downhill to reach this point, I decided to run as much as I could.  

Since the race was an out and back, and the turn around point is at the top of this climb, the trail became rather crowded, as we had rejoined with the half marathoners who were both going up and going down the pass, depending on how far along they were.  Luckily we are on mining roads, and very rarely was there not enough room to maneuver around people.  It was kind of nice to have so much mental stimulation during the climb, which could be quite brutal.  I ran, then hiked, then ran, then hiked, alternating on shallow and steep grades and using my breathing as a guide as to when to settle into a pow-hike.  I actually really enjoyed this section as I felt I had a good grinding gear.

I passed several more marathoners, and had the pleasure of seeing the leaders come blitzing down the pass.  Then a marathoner passed me; he was running the whole damn climb, I couldn't help but admire his consistent climbing cadence.  

At the top of the pass I quickly filled my bottle (2:18), stepped on the timing mat, and when I was told that I was somewhere around 11th or 12th place, I decided to let it all go on the descent from Mosquito and see what happened from there.  

I'm a fairly good downhill runner, especially when I'm in the mood to take some chances.  I took some chances. This was evident as I passed 3-4 other marathoners on the descent.  Including the guy who had climbed so well up to the top of the pass.    Actually I still don't know how I didn't trip or fly off the edge of the mountain on this descent, but thankfully it all worked out.  The descent seemed to shake something loose in my GI track, and I was eagerly anticipating a port-a-potty stop at the aid station at the bottom of Mosquito.  Unfortunately I saw two children who were cheering on family go running into the bathrooms right as I ran up.  Crap (pun intended), I'm not waiting around for that.  I started to run up the deusche grade mining road to the top of Ball mountain and after a while my need for a reststop reseeded.  This is lucky as there is nothing but shrubbery and rocks above treeline.    

At this point, I've run enough races to know that the return trip was going to be interesting.  I'd been running at threshold for almost 3 hours, something I don't practice often.  

I kept eating and must have been feeling ok, because I kept reeling people in.  I would jog with them for a brief moment, chat and recover, then take off to catch the next person.

I kept up that routine for the rest of the race, except as I got towards the finish I tried to make my passes rather emphatic, especially on the downhills.  Trying to take care of myself until the very end of the race, I took an S!cap at about mile 21, as I noticed I was very satly, but had not yet started cramping.  

Speaking of downhill, for me, the last downhill was a sufferfest.  It was technical as there was plenty of loose rocks and washed out ruts on the mining road, slightly rolling, and lasted 3-4 miles.  I was putting everything I had into the first couple miles, but as I couldn't see anyone in the distance I let up on the pace for a tad and almost tripped over some rocks.  OK, lets finish this out strong I decided.  So I hammered my legs into oblivion running downhill at sub 6:30 pace.  I ignored my screaming feet as I had reached that point where you don't care about pain and just want it to be over.  

As I crossed the finish line, I was told I had finished 6th overall (500ish starters?) in a time of 4:05.  I was very pleased, I had been thinking anything under 4:30 would be very good, and hadn't dreamed of running 4:05 in a race with 6,000 feet of gain.  I didn't care as much about the overall placing as running a time that I was satisfied with.

Our whole group finished strong, and had a big grin (grimace?) on their face when they finished.  It was a great social environment with all the finishers being extremely friendly and congratulatory.  The race gave out coffee mugs as the finishers award, which I like (I think some ppl were disappointed and wanted a medal)  We hung around for the rest of the day and I rehydrated with Michelob Ultra (blech). 

Yeehaw

Liz and I both collecting our gold mining pans as age-group awards
 (we're the goofballs still in our running shorts)

Final thoughts:  While the trail race is a little expensive, it was well worth the $.  There were tons of goodies, plenty of food and beer, and a super enthusiastic environment.  While I don't usually like races with 1,000s of people, I do see the allure of larger events which really have a great environment.

Gear:  Scott T2 Kinabalu, The North Face Better than Naked shorts, Ultraspire Quantum belt, Ultimate Direction 20oz quickdraw water bottle.  

Food:  I don't remember?  Like 10 gels, and two bottles of sports drink?  No solid food.

Canyon Crossing - A R2R2R Run

"We're you serious about joining you guys for the R2R2R?"

"Well yeah!"

That's about all that was required to convince me to join Ryan, Liz, Justin, and Tiffany in an incredible adventure. 

It all started with a job interview in Denver (which went well), and I originally planned to just fly in and fly out.  Which seemed like such an incredible waste, but without a solid plan I figured it would be the best idea.  Then R2R2R came knockin'.  

I met Ryan at a Ice Age in 2011, and hadn't seen him since.  But luckily social media has allowed us to stay updated on each other adventures.  I met Liz through mutual friends after a race in 2012, and hadn't seen her since then.  Again, thanks facebook for letting us stay in touch.

I'll spare you the technical or fortuitous details of coordinating rides, but Thursday night we were on the road from Boulder to the Grand Canyon, for what is an iconic bucket list run for ultrarunners and a great  way to log some training miles.

Quick stop in Moab, UT

After a quick stop in Moab (awesome place btw), we were Canyon Bound.  Along the way we received emphatic direction that we should stop at Goosenecks State Park for a quick picture, and we obliged.

My "artsy" Goosenecks photo

Interestingly, driving up to the rim of the Canyon almost felt like driving up into the mountains.  Prior to gaining a gob of elevation we were driving along at between 4000-5000 feet above sea level.  Then we headed up, up, up, and were finally at 7000 feet and the Canyon rim.

A quick tourist style stop for a photo and then a pizza pub for beer and pizza, two essentials for any successful Canyon crossing.  We all quickly set up tents and fell asleep, determined to get as much sleep as possible before our 3:30am wakeup.

Breakfast of champions

Breakfast for me was a slice of cheese pizza, a redbull and a couple handfulls of raisins.  The previous night I had filled my pack with gels, shotbloks, stinger waffles, and energy bars.  I was aiming for 200 calories an hour over the course of 12 hours.  I figured with Phantom Ranch along the way I could buy any extra food that might strike my fancy at that particular moment.

Before I knew it, we were parking at the parking area that the shuttle services at South Kaibob.  You can try to drive into the actual trailhead parking lot, but that seems to be discouraged by the park and truely requires a back-country permit.  I think with the growing popularity of R2R2R, we as runners need to be careful to respect park rules and the extra little jog was a nice warmup before bombing down 7 miles of downhill with 5000 feet of descent.

ready for action

 It was incredibly windy running down South Kaibob, the gusts threatened to blow my hat off my head and whipped dust past my face and into my eyes.  I was dressed for cold weather, but it warmed up so fast that I felt a little silly for having arm warmers on under my windbreaker.  Oh well, it never hurts to be prepared.  Layers were quickly shed and the descent continued.

Dust flying through the air (Photo Liz Sassemon)

Flying downhill (Photo Liz Sassemon)

The descent continues (Photo Liz Sassemon).

Down.  Down.  Down.  A mile down.  And then through a small tunnel and onto a suspension bridge over the Colorado River.  We stopped and smiled.  This is unbelievable.  The first descent felt surreal, like a dream.  Running through the dark, buffeted by wind, only slightly able to take in the magnitude of our task.

Soon we were at the turn off for Bright Angel trail and our first water stop.  I drained my pack and thought I filled it back up.  Turns out the extra stuff I had stuffed into the pack resulted in the bladder being compressed and I only filled my pack half-way.  Rookie move, bad Toe.  

Passing phantom ranch its essential a long (13.4 mile) grind up to the North Rim.  The first 7ish miles are very mellow and entirely run-able.  I'd say the incline varied between 1-6% for the most part and we just cruised it out, saying hi to the gob of runners we passed.  Most appeared to be running from the North Rim to the South Rim on a one-way crossing.  Hmmm, what a nice distance...

My half-full pack only lasted the first 4-5 miles up this stretch as it was relatively exposed and we were running mostly uphill.

The gradual run up into Bright Angel Canyon

Meandering single track

As we worked our way through Bright Angel Canyon, I was delighted to find a water stop at Cottonwood Campground. Since I'd be running with a dry pack for a while, I drained almost an entire bladder and refilled before leaving.  We then continued the run into Bright Angel canyon along the creek and towards the North Rim.  Ryan set a nice pace on the climbs and I told my Michigan legs to shut up and followed.  There were some spectacular views as the trail decided to become sincerely steep and we gained elevation at a more rapid rate.  

Can you see the trail along the Canyon wall behind me?

Getting high

North Rim

There were points on this run up the North Rim where I felt as if the switch backs would go on forever.  And they did.  I also think I over-fueled briefly on this ascent as I alternated between feeling really strong, and feeling like I was going to barf.  I gave myself a good 30-40 minutes with no calories and just a bit of water and the feeling subsided.  But then we were at the top.  Sitting at 8000 feet, the North Rim is almost 1000 feet higher than the South Rim, and has an entirely different feel.  While the South Rim is a tourist hell-hole complete with massive parking lots, a general store, and a post office, the North Rim only has a small lodge, a mule ranch, and a parking lot with rustic bathrooms.  Furthermore, while the South Rim has a distinctly desert feel; the shubbery was replaced by tall trees and a cool breeze on the North.  

Ryan and I sat and waited for the rest of our crew and chatted with the numerous other runners who were doing various trips.  In the awesome generous spirit of ultrarunning/trailrunning, we were offered Ice Cold Pepsi and potato straws by Grandpa Jim, who was a Canyon regular.  We said "hi" to David Goggins who was just out for a training run, then sat back in the shade and enjoyed our pops and pizza.  Yes, that's correct, I hauled two slices of cheese pizza across the Grand Canyon to eat for lunch.  Entirely worth it, although it may not have looked super appetizing.

Justin's pocket pizza (photo Justin Hellwinkel)

North Rim chillin (Photo Liz Sassemon)

We were just hanging out when we noticed a large mule train starting towards to trail from the stables.  We gave each other a quick nod, grabbed our gear, and took off.  No one wanted to get behind the mules or deal with any extra mule poop or urine than was necessary.

The rim that is right center in the far distance is where we came from and headed back to

Could the scenery be any cooler? 

Somewhere on the run down from the North Rim I realized that this was the last major descent and I wouldn't need my quads after it was over.  I decided to let go and bomb away.  Joyously soft trails and few water steps allowed for a fast descent down the steep part of the Canyon, then the gradual decline of Bright Angel canyon let me throw down some 6:40's.  I did notice it was getting hot, but continued to run with the throttle open.   A lot of hikers gave me a smile and laughed at how much fun I was having running downhill, which was only more encouragement to run hard.

Nearing Phantom Ranch, I realized I hadn't peed in a while and my shoes were full of sand.  After a slight...  detour, I found the Ranch and stopped to take my socks and shoes off to get all the sand out.  An amazing round of leg cramps ensued in which it became very difficult to get my socks and shoes back on.  Very gingerly I put my shoes back on, about the time when Ryan caught up, and we grabbed a lemonade and a snack at Phantom Ranch before the final climb of the day. 

On the way to Indian Garden

Bright Angel trail meanders up through a variety of terrain, the first half which is called "The Devils Corkscrew" or "Angels Elevator" depending on who you talk to.  This was perhaps one of the more exposed sections, but as we reached Indian Garden, the sun snuck behind a canyon wall and it was no longer quite so hot.  After a few jokes about sending mules down to rescue us, we refilled our water and jogged out of Indian Garden and onto the steeper section of Bright Angel.  There isn't much to say about this section, except that it was nice to have frequent water spigots, and we just got our grind on.  A few false summits and about 50 switchbacks later we were at the top of the South Rim again, looking out over the Canyon and slightly amazed with how far we had just run.  

woah

Quite a few switchbacks required to get up from below

Climbing back up Bright Angel was quite interesting in the late-afternoon.  Exhausted hikers and R2R'ers littered the trail, and the pow-hike easily cruised past them.  Sometimes they only begrudgingly gave us room to pass.  Part of my addled brain wondered if they had any idea what we had gone through that day, but the other part realized this was an extreme physical challenge for these people and I should just give them a nod and keep moving.

The Top.  Finally back at the Top of the South Rim.  Ryan and I gave each other a high five, and that was it.  We were done.

R2R2R is quite an experience.  I enjoy a good testing, and this certainly tested my shit.  Its a unique run as it has all the vertical packed into two climbs and two descents, they seemed like they went on forever.  Very pleased with the way my Michigan legs handled all the climbing and descending.  My GPS watch seems to have deleted the file (of course that happened) but I had around 48.5 miles total, including the run from the car to the trailhead.  I suspect it overestimated a little, but still a very respectable number. Ryan's altimeter said 10,600 feet of climbing, which I entirely believe.

Woot.

If I was going to give pointers for running R2R2R, they would be.  1)  The longest stretch without water is between cottonwood campground and phantom ranch, be cogniscent of this.  2)  Take enough fuel/food, its very important to keep eating calories as you are trying to climb out of the canyon towards the finish when you're tired.  3)  Salt caps help in the heat, I prefer S!caps, but use what you like.  4)  Leaving the South Rim via South Kaibob and returning via Bright Angel is nice, but make sure you have a way to get your car.  5)  Leaving early is smart, and you get to run a lot in the morning before people or heat slow you down.  6)  DO NOT EAT THE BUFFALO WINGS AT THE PIZZA PUB THE NIGHT BEFORE THE RUN.

FOOOD

Fuel
I took about 25 gels with me, and prob donated 4-5 of them to others and had 5 left when I finished.  I also carried 5 honey stinger waffles (of which I ate 3), a clif bar, hammer bar, honey stinger bar, a slice of pizza, and three packs of Clif shot bloks.  I also took 5 S!caps during the run and had a lemonade, oreos, and pretzels while at Phantom Ranch.  All said, I prob had a little extra food with me, but that's just how I roll.

Gear
Petzel Myo headlamp, Recofit compression sleeves, Brooks LSD Lite jacket, S-lab 5 liter pack, sunglasses, hat, singlet, Salomon S-lab Sense Ultra shoes, a pair of Smartwool running socks, running shorts.  2Toms Sportshield kept me blister and chaffing free.