Wasatch Sasquatch: The Ogre Runs Wasatch Front 100

"Whoa.  What a day."  That's all I could text to my running buddies back home when I got my phone out after finishing the Wasatch Front 100 this past weekend.  It had been one hell of a day where I worked harder, for longer, than I ever had in any race.

The Wasatch Front 100 was my 'A' race for the year, so here's some description of what went down this past weekend, as well as some of what happened in preceding year that got me to the starting line.

Training

The buildup for this race really started after the Kodiak 100 in 2014.  I saw some folks post on Facebook about registering for the Sean O'Brien (SOB) 100k and thought that it was gonna sell out soon, so I signed up.  After I recovered from Kodiak, I began to build up for SOB, throwing in Red Rock 50 in November because it's a tough and fun race.  The training for this race set the stage for the next 8 months until Wasatch Front.  I had trained hard in new ways, logged more miles than I had previously, and had a great early year race.  It also happened that I was selected in the Wasatch Front 100 lottery on the day of SOB in February.  Boom.  My calendar for February 7th-September 12th just filled up.

With a few running items, including some down time, on my list of things to do in the spring, I decided that a 14 week buildup from June to Mid-September was reasonable to prepare for Wasatch.  I mapped out a plan that consisted of mesocycles of 2 build weeks followed by a recovery week and topped out at 120 miles in the peak week.

Well, the best laid plans...

Real life contorted my neat stair-step pattern of buildup, and when real life wasn't enough, the miles and climbing were, so my actual mileage was a little more erratic.  The good news, however, was that despite the lack of picture perfect regularity in my buildup pattern, I ran a lot of miles, an acceptable amount of climbing, and was injury-free throughout the summer.

I spent a lot of time on weekends training in the San Gabriel Mountains on the AC100 course with friends who were training for that race.  That turned out to be ideal because the AC100 course and associated trails provided a ton of heat training, climbing, and tough conditions: Questionable water availability? Check. Dehydration practice? Check.  Running on blown legs through mountains, canyons and road? Triple Check.

Additionally, something new that I tried this time around were a hill repeat block and a tempo block in my training schedule.  The hill repeat block consisted of hill repeats, 3 times a week, for 3 weeks.  The repeats were 2-min, 3-min, and 4-min intervals on day 1, 2 and 3, respectively.  Each week the number of repeats increased.  Similarly, the tempo block consisted of tempo runs, 2 times per week, of increasing duration.  Real life prevented me from hitting every one of these workouts, but I got most of them in.  What that amount of quality work also highlighted was the need for recovery.  It quickly became apparent that there was no room for nutritional mistakes or missed hours of sleep, as I suffered through some pretty bad runs attempting to recover from weeks of big workouts and long runs back to back.  As my buddy Dom said to me more than once this summer, "Mondays are for resting."  So I modified my plan and started resting on Mondays instead of running an easy 5 or 6 miles.  It helped.

What all that resulted in was not hitting my goal of 120 miles per week during the peak week of training, and I was totally OK with it.  I had to modify weeks regularly because my legs were not ready for the mileage that I thought they might be.  A combination of quality workouts, long runs, and lots of climbing resulted in tired legs and body.  Tons of fatigue at work and a couple really bad runs confirmed that I needed to dial it back, and instead of sacrificing the quality of my workouts or the vertical gain of my long runs, I decided to sacrifice total mileage.

The last piece of the buildup puzzle in my training was the prerun weekend.  I decided that I wanted to get a feel for the course, so about 2 months out from race day, I used some Southwest points to fly out to Utah, stay with my friend Erin and go run the whole course over 3 days.  Erin and I successfully completed the entire course in 3 days, and come race day I was very thankful for the experience.  I knew the climbs, memorized the course, and didn't struggle at all with navigation.

When taper arrived, I was pumped because not only did I feel good about my training, but I was not completely smoked.  In other races, I've skidded into taper, burnt out with smoke billowing from my engine and needed the 3 weeks just to recover and race, but this time around, I arrived ready to execute a smart last 11 days of training (21 days out to 10 days out), which culminated with a big workout 10 days out from the race, followed by 10 days of maintenance and preparation for the race (10 days out to race day).  I also did a 1-cup-of-coffee-per-day detox from caffeine to increase the effectiveness of caffeine during the race.  That was a shitty 2 weeks of no afternoon coffee at work.
 

The Race

The race starts on Friday at 5am, with a runners' meeting the previous day at 4pm.  I flew out with my girlfriend/crew chief Crista on Thursday morning, purchased all the additional food that I would need (red bull, breakfast before the race, COFFEE!!), and headed to the pre-race venue.

At packet pickup, I finished packing my drop bags, with some last minute packing advice from my friend Jimmy who had run the race the previous year, and dropped them off at the site.  The pre-race meeting was all of 10 minutes, and we were out of there.

Drop bags ready to go.

After a delicious Chipotle dinner and beer, I was in bed by 8:30pm (Utah time...so 7:30pm on my internal clock) to be ready for the 2:30am wake-up to eat, drink coffee, get ready and drive to the start.  I was pretty nervous about how things would go the next day, but luckily the beer worked wonders at putting me to a crazy-dream-filled sleep.

Breakfast with John Lennon.

I woke up at 2:30am and grubbed down on toasted baguette with Nutella, and a banana with Nutella while drinking a couple cups of coffee. I filled my water bottles with Tailwind, and we headed out the door.

Now's probably a good time to talk about my race plan and nutrition plan:

Nutrition Plan:

1 bottle of Tailwind + 1 Clif Shot per hour for a total of 300 cal/hr.

Snack at the aid stations.

Repeat for 100 miles.

Drink protein drink at miles 39 and 74.

Have a backup plan if that fails: trail mix bars (Clif Mojo Bars and Dark Chocolate Trail Mix Bars), Clif Organic Energy Food (Banana Beet Ginger), any other aid station grub that works.

I mixed mostly Vanilla Clif Shots (taste like frosting!!) that have no caffeine with about 20% Strawberry Clif Shots, that have 25mg of caffeine.  I figured this moderate/low amount of caffeine would keep me going without getting crazy.  Then at mile 75 I could switch to Mocha Clif Shots (50mg caffeine) and Raspberry Buzz Tailwind (also with caffeine) which would power me through the night.  Top this off with Red Bull at mile 75 and a drop bag filled with coffee drinks at mile 83 and I'd be set.

Race Plan:

Crista, ready to crew at the start

I wasn't sure if I had 24 hour pace in my legs, so I decided to feel things out by effort first: I would go out at a sustainable effort and check my split at the first aid station (Francis Peak Aid, mile 18ish) and assess if 24 hours is feasible.  If it was, continue and shoot for 24 hours.  If way off, continue and just race well.

The Actual Race

So the race started, and we took off on a super dusty single/double track.  I was 30 or 40 people back and was choking down dust like a madman, so I pulled my buff over my face to try and get some relief...not much, but better than nothing.  I noted that several veterans actually brought dust masks for this moment.  I was struggling to keep my heart rate down, but my legs felt good, so I let the BPM ride a bit higher than I'd like, at least until the 4500 ft. climb at mile 3.5 or so.  Once the climb starts, it was a long hike to the top with a few sections of running thrown in.

The first climb.

I fell in with a few runners going at my desired pace and finally made it to Cool Springs, where some guys had set up 'Aid Station 0', which is an unofficial water aid station.  I had planned this spring into my race plan (thanks to the pre-run intel) but the fact that the guys had filled up pitchers made it even easier to fill!  I was 2.5 hours in and had killed 2 bottles of Tailwind and 2 gels, so I refilled Tailwind and headed for Chinscraper and the top of the climb.  While I was filling, my pack of runners had moved on and spread out, so when I left, I was mostly running alone, which was nice.  I could see a large conga line maybe a quarter or half mile up and it looked like no fun.  Chinscraper is a steep section of climb up to a rocky nose of a ridge. 

The view while hiking up Chinscraper.

I hiked it up and was pumped by the NWA that was blasting from a boombox at the top...oops! I may have climbed that section a bit too hard while jamming out to the beats!  Luckily, it's followed by some really fun, rolling single track and then double track up to Grobben's corner where RD John Grobben hangs out with friends and pours water for runners.  I came through here doing fine on water and started the fire road descent to Francis Peak Aid.  Here I linked up with the eventual #2 Female, Leslie Howlett.  She seemed pretty experienced on the course and I enjoyed talking to her and running down into the aid station at a good, but manageable clip (save the quads!).

Climbing to Grobben's Corner.

Headed down to the climb to Bountiful B.

A friend of mine hypothesizes that one of the reasons that Rob Krar won Western States this year is that he managed the heat better than the other runners and that one of the ways he did this was by starting heat management early in the race, before most other runners had their heat gear on.  You can see in pictures that he already had a cooling bandana around his neck before Robinson Flat.  I decided to pull a page from that book, seeing as it was supposed to be quite hot during the race, and put an ice bandana in my first drop bag.  Leslie took off on her own while I was icing up, so I left the aid station solo, feeling ready to take on the heat as it came.  More Tailwind, more Clif Shots in the pockets, a couple potato chips.  Ready to go.  I left at 9:10, only 10 minutes off the recommended 24-hour pace.  This meant that it was time to go for the Crimson Cheetah belt buckle that's awarded to all sub-24-hour finishers! Game on.

I took off up the next fire road section and began to cruise.  The weather was still cool and the terrain was mild.  I knew I had a solid climb up to Bountiful B Aid coming up, so I took advantage of the grading to get my pace up.  Again, my heart rate was riding higher than I wanted it to be, even though I was running at an effort level that I judged was proper.  I chalked it up to the altitude and decided to split the difference between what I wanted and what my body was allowing.  In reality, I pretty much just ran how I felt while slowing down every now and then when I'd glance at my watch and worry about my pacing.

The climb into Bountiful B is a beautiful winding single track in the trees and meadows, and I enjoyed it tremendously. 

The climb to Bountiful B.  Gorgeous!

I was feeling good and hoping that my pacing was good too.  I was in and out of the aid station quickly with a handful of ice into the bandana, full bottles, and on to more fire road into Sessions Aid, the Pirate Themed Aid Station.  Not much to say about this section other than I kept rolling.

The run from Swallow Rocks to Big
Mountain Pass, as seen during the July
Pre-Run

At Sessions, I got another handful of ice in the bandana, filled bottles again and took off for Swallow Rocks.  I knew that I was going to run out of water before the aid station, but I didn't want to take out my reservoir and fill it.  I should have gulped down some more water at Sessions, but I didn't...oh well.  A quick descent and then started the pair of ~400 ft. climbs that are separated by a 400 ft. descent.  The first climb is smooth and nice, the 2nd climb is pretty steep at first and then levels off into the rolling single track along the ridge.  My legs felt a little sluggish on this climb, but I was glad that the heat of the day hadn't hit, and hoped I could pull myself out of this minor slump.  The rolling single track is fun, and the views were absolutely incredible!  Rolling green mountainsides, golden meadows, and rocky peaks in the distance.  More elevated heart rate miles.  This single track dumps into a few switchback descent, which was completely overgrown in July and now was just kind of brushy.  Glad that I wore gaiters (unlike in July) to keep the crap out of my shoes.  This descent deposits the runners onto a saddle where the last climb before Swallow Rocks Aid begins.  I was more than halfway done with my fluids at this point, and killed the rest of the Tailwind at the top of the saddle climb before 1 last ridge climb.  I remember the ridge climb being a bit easier during the pre-run, but it was a small climb nonetheless, so the top arrived in no time and I knew I could roll my way over the next couple of miles into the aid station.  I had been rationing my water for a couple miles, and I ended up killed my water pretty close to the aid station so I came in ready to fill Tailwind, chug some water, and keep going.  My legs had started to feel really good, especially considering the low spot on the previous climb, so I started to move really well and clicked off miles consistently into the Big Mountain Pass Aid Station at mile 39. 

Soaked ice water hat goes on at Big Mountain Pass Aid Station.  Photo: Crista Scott

I could hear the aid station before I could see it, though there were flamingos and flamingo themed decorations on the trail leading into the aid station letting the runners know they were close.  This bolstered my spirits and I continued running quickly into the aid station.  My crew was ready, and I could tell that they were ancy for me to get in because they were like a pit crew ready to rock!  Vest #1 off, Vest #2 on, ice bandana on, shirt change to the lightest and best hot weather shirt that I own, a quick sunscreen, finish the bottle of protein shake and I was ready.  Even though I hadn't requested a reservoir of water ahead of time, I knew I needed one after running dangerously low on water coming into Swallow Rocks, so I asked them to get one and fill it, which happened fast an efficiently.  Crista and Erin killed it!

I took off out of there on my way to Alexander Ridge and Lamb's Canyon.  Immediately, my legs felt like garbage.  Sluggish, tired, and non-responsive to climbing requests.  I shortened my hiking stride to stay efficient and began to mow down calories to try and bring them back to life.  I was feeling pretty worried that I had burned all my matches in the first 40 miles.  It was getting hot out, but luckily there was a strong breeze coming from the West that cooled me off well.   Good thing too, because somewhere around the 42 or 43 mile mark, I could feel my legs start to come back to life!  I started to run the descents well and climb at a good clip again, coming into Alexander Ridge Aid feeling great!  I had been running for over 11 hours at a heart rate that I would consider a 50-mile race heart rate.  This felt exhausting, but at the same time I was amped that my legs were still performing well. I was out of Tailwind and had cashed out my reservoir, but still had water, which I cashed out at the aid station entrance.  I had them fill me up with ice water, grabbed some aid station gels (Gu Rocktane) to get me the next 5 miles to Lamb's Canyon, and took off.  I still haven't figured out what I was thinking with my drop bag planning and not having more Tailwind available to fill in bottles here...maybe it was in my backpack and I didn't know it? I can't remember, but I knew I needed more gel to get to the next aid station.

Ridgeway climb leading to Alexander Ridge as seen during the July Pre-Run

There were some pretty beat up runners in this next section, but I was confident with my ice and heat training that I would be fine.  Plus I was back down at 6000 ft. were I could breathe again and my heart rate had dropped!  I picked off a few runners climbing the powerline trail and hustled down into the Lamb's Canyon Aid Station.  The Rocktane gels were not sitting well, and I really wanted to sit down and recoup a bit: my legs were hurting a bit and I was starting to get a dehydration headache.

Ice bandana goes on at Lamb's Canyon Aid Station.  This was a key portion of my heat mitigation strategy. Photo: Crista Scott

When I got into the aid station at mile 53, instead of Crista and Erin, I saw Crista and Kara!  Kara??!  What are you doing here?  She's one of my running friends of So Cal.  She told me that she flew out just to crew for me!  I'd later learn that she was there to run the Revel Big Cottonwood Marathon and was having some fun at my expense, but I totally believed her at the time, haha.  I downed a delicious, ice cold Hansen's Root Beer, some water, and got ready to get out of there.  I was still within striking distance of my 24-hour goal and that's all that mattered.  I left at 5:00pm on the dot, 12 hours in and exactly on the race supplied 24-hour pace table.

I checked out of the aid station and headed up Lamb's Canyon Road to the Lamb's Canyon Trailhead, which, all together are about a 2300 ft. climb (from the creek in Lamb's Canyon before the aid station) over about 4 miles.  Halfway up the road, I started to feel not-so-great.  I was in the shade, but I was feeling nauseous and it was really hard to force more food into me.  I had hoped that water and root beer in the aid station would have calmed my stomach, but the Tailwind didn't sit well, gel didn't sit well and I was starting to worry.  My legs were still hiking OK on the road, but I needed to be running this section to hit the 2 hour split into Upper Big Water Aid Station.  A runner earlier told me his strategy for running 100-milers, 'eat until you puke', which kept playing through my mind in this section, because I did not want to puke and lose all my nutrition, but I did want to eat until I almost puked, so I kept forcing tailwind and gel into me.  Yuck, it felt awful.  On the road, I got passed by a runner who I had passed coming into Lamb's Canyon Aid Station.  He was run/hiking with his pacer and seemed to be beat up but making a recovery. I kept hiking hard, but was disheartened as they started to pull away on the single track climb.  I was charging my GPS watch via battery and cable, so I couldn't see my heart rate.  I felt like I was working through the roof but had no way of knowing if my heart rate agreed with that feeling.  Hike hike hike, harder and harder as fast as I could move my rapidly tiring legs.  Oof.  I wanted that buckle.

I topped out on the climb, stretched and began the 1500 ft. descent into Mill Creek Canyon.  I was trying to move well but my legs were hurting and pushing hard, eating, and drinking was proving to be difficult.  Still, I knew I was close to hitting the split (hiking legs not so bad after all!) so I kept pushing and popped out onto the Mill Creek Canyon road at 6:22pm (I still remember looking at this time on my watch...funny how some memories stick), 38 minutes to go 3-4 miles if I wanted to arrive at the 24-hour split.  Maybe if I had a quick aid I wouldn't lose much time?  It's bummer I felt so bad on this descent because it's a really fun one with great views.  Winding single track descending through canyons with creeks...awesome.  Either way, I was feeling toasted and trying to eat more/drink more Tailwind and my stomach was making me miserable.  My legs weren't getting the nutrition that they needed and were starting to falter.  I was running and hiking the road as fast as I could, but it's still 3.5-4 miles with 1200 ft. of climbing to get to the aid station.

I finally made it into Upper Big Water Aid Station at about 10 minutes after 7pm, which was all I could ask for at the moment.  It was getting cold and I was soaked.  Big thanks to Jimmy Dean Freeman for the tip on putting a fresh shirt in my drop bag because it felt great to be dry in the cold...I might have frozen on the next section without this dry shirt!  I put on arm warmers, light gloves and my hat and took off for Dog Lake and Desolation Lake with a bag of Ruffles in-hand.

At this point, obviously Tailwind and gel weren't working and I was out of chips, so I decided to try trail mix bar.  This went down OK, but still not great.  At least I got the whole thing down in an hour...200 cal/hr isn't so bad.  My legs were failing me from lack of food over the previous miles.  At least it was a hikable section...though towards the top my hiking wasn't doing great either.  I tried a Clif Organic Energy Food (Banana Beet Ginger) and this didn't sit well either.  I was at my wits' end.  Nothing was working so I just kept pushing and tried to do my best, though I was disheartened by getting passed by a couple of runners who I had passed on the road into Upper Big Water Aid.  I hit the small descent from Dog Lake to Blunder Fork, made it down without feeling too bad, and then turned up towards Desolation Lake, not really looking forward to the climb. 


The view from above Desolation Lake, as seen during the July Pre-Run.  I came through here at night during the race.

Fortunately, my legs were feeling mildly better on this climb and I think I was able to run the flats and easy uphill and hike the steeper stuff.  I had some broth, ginger ale and coke in the Desolation Lake aid, filled water and took off again.  Just a bit more climbing before some rolling into Scott's Tower aid.  I paused a couple times on this climb.  My legs were really hurting and I put my hands on my knees to gather myself.  It sucked.  I could feel 24 hours slipping away.  To compound the issue, I was starting to feel sleepy, probably from lack of calories or something.  Maybe I ran too hard earlier in the heat?  I needed to keep my eyes open.  I rolled into Scott's Tower aid and sat down to gather myself again.  I gave myself 10 seconds in the chair before I got water.  While I filled water and poured Tailwind powder, I talked to the guys about the Utah/Utah State game which they were listening to and then headed down the trail with Matt Connor, a veritable Wasatch badass (this was his 8th race) on the long descent to Brighton Lodge Aid.

He almost immediately left me in the dust, so I ran as much of the next downhill as I could, but my legs were constantly screaming to walk it in.  That was unacceptable, so I pushed myself hard to run, but some walk breaks happened, especially on the road to Brighton where my legs were getting pounded, so I pretty much run/walked it to the bottom of the descent.  I climbed the last 150 ft. climb into the aid station, barely awake (at 11:10pm...hmmmm) and immediately told my crew that I wanted to lie down.  They found me a spot and I lied down.  I told Crista to get me up in 15 minutes and no longer.  Some medic kept asking me if I needed anything, so when the 15 minutes were up and I hadn't slept a wink, I asked for another 5.  I got woken up by the medic again, but I think I got some actual sleep for a couple minutes, so I got up, got my warm clothes on to run through the night, drank water and ate grilled cheese, and got ready to go.  Before I left, I cracked out my secret weapon: Red Bull and Tylenol.  The Tylenol was to help get rid of the headache and maybe help with any muscle pain (though I've heard that Tylenol doesn't really do much for this).  The Red Bull was to get me pumped up and open up my blood vessels.  It was just before midnight when I left the hut with Erin pacing me.  I had been there for 47 minutes.  Ouch.  I wasn't feeling great, but I also wasn't feeling like dying like I did 30 minutes before, so I was content with my recovery.

All hopes of 24 hours out the window, I was ready to just run well and have a good last 25 miles.  There was only 1 big climb and 2 small climbs left.  This section of the course is gorgeous in the daylight, so it was unfortunate to be doing it in the dark for that reason, but nice because it meant that I would finish in the cool early morning and not the brual mid-day heat in Midway like we had on the prerun in July.

Ready to go at Brighton Aid Station.  Photo: Crista Scott

I think Erin was a little worried that I was a total shitshow wreck at this point and not sure what to expect from me, but she was positive as we hiked up the face of Brighton, past Lake Mary, and over the pass at ~10,500 ft. elevation, the high-point of the course.  The top of the climb was a turning point.  I was feeling pretty solid.  Not great, but solid.  I started to run the descent and move pretty well!  I wasn't (as) nauseous anymore! Woohoo!  The trails back in this section are a lot of rutty, loose, motorcycle trails, so the descent was a wild ride.  Luckily no falling, and I came into Ant Knolls Aid Station feeling solid.  This aid station was a 15 foot tall geodesic dome covered in lights and a parachute for shade during the day.  It was pretty magical to stand inside and grub down.  I was back on Tailwind and gel and I downed a couple of quesadilla wedges in the station before taking off for 'The Grunt', a ~0.5 mile, steep climb up to the ridge.  I was still pretty beat up on the climbs, so I was hiking slowly, but I managed to pass a guy and his pacer, the guy who was undoubtedly feeling less good than I, which says a lot, because I didn't feel too good.  This course is brutal.

The at the top of the Grunt, the runners turn right along the ridge and start wrapping around and then down into Pole Line Pass aid station at mile 82.3.  This is where last drop bag was located.  I had loaded it up with Tailwind, Gel, and 4 coffee drinks!  Erin and I each downed 1 coffee drink and took the other two with us for later.  This aid station was awesome as well.  Well stocked and I grubbed down a grilled cheese before I took off.  Maybe the greasy/buttery food was working out because of the fat? I don't know but the bread/tortilla and cheese combo was doing wonders for my nutrition.

From the top of the Grunt it's about a 2000 ft. descent to the next (and last!) climb.  Pole Line Pass is about 500 ft. down, so I had about 1500 ft. to go.  Erin and I took off onto the sandy moto trail and began the long descent down to the canyon.  This trail is rocky and 1 big rut, but was in surprisingly better condition than it was when we ran it in July, so we cruised down it to the fire road and began the last climb, a 600 footer in about 1 mile.  It was easy enough to hike this and at the top, I drank my coffee drink and was ready to run it into Staton North, Decker Canyon, and the Finish.  This is where the course gets kind of shitty.  It's just a wide open fire trail that descends for 10 miles and 2500 ft. with only a few uphills.  It's non-descript, rocky in places, and not the best running that anyone has done.  But it is pretty quick moving, so we worked our way down at an OK pace.  Not bad.  Staton North, water, continue up a small climb, descend.  The trail finally puts the runners onto a steep, short climb to what we called 'a trail that's not a trail'.  It's a trail, but it's covered in weeds and whatnot.  It was tough for me to run well on this, but I tried my best and kept taking in Tailwind and water to get me down to Decker Canyon.  It felt like the 1.5 or 2 miles of this section took forever, but I'm sure it was actually not too long.  Decker Canyon Aid showed up and I got some water and chips and headed out.

There's a slight rise out of the aid station and then the canyon descends to the Deer Creek Reservoir where a bike path and road takes the runners to the finish.  I checked my watch and saw that it was 6:04am.  There were about 6 miles left from the aid station, so I figured that if I ran sub 10 minute miles to the finish that I could finish in under 26 hours.  I started running faster and put a bit of a gap on Erin, who was having trouble seeing the cattle field trail because her headlamp was dying, so when I opened the first cattle gate and waited a bit, I told her my plan.  She replied that I should get it done, but that she couldn't see well and would see me later.  My headlamp was on the low setting because it was getting close to dying as well, so I was running half by feel, and half by my low headlamp light.  I made it to the bike path at a sub 10 minute clip and turned onto the rolling path and started hammering.  My watch showed a 8:43 mile, but I thought it showed 9:43 and I started to worry that I wouldn't make it, so I picked it up.  I clicked off a 9:17 and felt a little better, but kept pushing, hitting 9:03 for the next mile.  Then I clicked off a 7:53.  Whoa!  Better keep moving, it's past 6:30am!  I hit the next mile at 7:09, flying down off the bike trail onto the street towards the finish.  6:45am, how long is this last road section?? I can't remember!  I kept running hard up the road, blowing by a dude and his pacer who were walking it in.  At this point I knew I had it in the bag, but I didn't want to slow down and jog it in, so I just hammered all the way home for a finishing time of 25:52.  John Grobben was there to shake my hand, but other than him, Chris (Erin's fiancee), Crista, and a few other people, the place was pretty deserted.  I was just pumped to sit down. Whoa.  What a day.

Crossing the finish line and shaking RD John Grobben's hand. Photo: Crista Scott

That's a good sight! Photo: Crista Scott

The Aftermath

Recounting the mayhem of the last 6 miles to Chris. Photo: Crista Scott

 After the race finished, I waited for my pacer to come in and gave her a big hug!  Erin was awesome and kept me on track and positive the whole time. I fell asleep on the car ride home, then slept for 3 hours (after a shower), then went and got lunch, followed by another nap, followed by driving back out to the finish to cheer in the final runners and go through the buckle ceremony.

Buckle up! The dark blue 24-30 hour buckle.  Photo: Crista Scott

I was pretty stoked on the finish.  I think I have 24 hour capability in my legs on a course of this difficulty, but I needed to execute through the tough middle section better.  In hindsight, I think I needed to be drinking a ton more water and my stomach would have been better.  I had a dehydration headache for 20 miles...there's no way my stomach was performing as it should have been if I was exhibiting those signs.  My urine was pretty dark yellow too (but I've seen it worse!).  Oh well.  Seeing as it was only my 2nd 100 miler, I will chalk it up to inexperience and hope that I can get the job done on the next one!

I am also stoked to that I my training showed through and I was able to run hard.  As ultramarathon runners go, I am relatively inexperienced, so I was stoked that I was able to run hard for as long as I did.  I'm hoping that if I sort out the hydration issues that I'll skip the stomach issues and be able to continue running hard for 100 miles straight on the next one.

It's been a heck of a summer.  Between work and running, I didn't do much else other than eat and sleep.  I spent a lot of quality time with my running friends, but didn't see many non-running friends.  I still now think back about some of the runs that I went on and am stoked by how far I've come as a runner.  I see runners like Andy, Guillaume, Dom, Katie who have tons of experience and run super fast times and wonder if I'll ever get close to that level.  I read a race report from another Wasatch Front 100 runner, Gabe Joyes, and though he's way faster than I am, it seems like he had some similar thoughts going through his head (congrats on running hard dude!) that his run at Wasatch helped to dispel.  In the same way, my run this past weekend helped answer some of my own questions about my ability, and I'm hoping that it's just a matter of putting in the miles for more years to get closer to the fast guys at the front.  Until then, my run at the Wasatch Front 100 this past weekend is a pretty great validation to myself that all the training miles are paying off and that I've got good things to look forward to.  Life is good!

The next day, porch sitting with beer and burger.  Photo: Crista Scott

Crista made this cool video of the race from her perspective:

Wasatch Front 100 from Crista Scott on Vimeo.

Gear List:

• Shoes: New Balance Leadville 1210v1 (1 pair the whole time)
• Socks: Injinji Crew 2.0 (1 pair the whole time)
• Gaiters: Mountain Hardwear Running Gaiters
• Shorts: North Face Better Than Naked Long Haul
• Shirts: Assorted shirts from races, but the hot weather one was a North Face Better Than Naked shirt
• Gloves: Early - Salomon S-Lab.  Late - Outdoor Research Hot Pursuit
• Shell: North Face Verto Hooded
• Long Sleeve: North Face of some sort
• Buff: Dirtbag Runners buff and Buff USA Coolmax Full Length
• Glasses: Oakley Radarlock
• Hat: Outdoor Reasearch $12 White Running Hat
• Pack: 2X CamelBak Circuit w/ 50 oz. reservoir and 2 CamelBak Podium Bottles
• Watch: Garmin 310XT
• Headlamp: Petzl Nao 2
• Sun Sleeves: Pearl Izumi Sun Sleeves

 Strava Data

Running and Team

My friend Luis Escobar says that running 100-miles is a team sport: the runner is supported by a crew that takes care of nutrition, tends to injuries, and does their best to ensure the success of their runner.  Excepting the solo 100-milers, racing takes a village.  To add to that sentiment, however, I'd posit that sometimes the team is there year round, through tons of miles, mornings, nights and weekends of preparation for race day.

It's been a little over a year since I moved from Hermosa Beach, CA to West Los Angeles, CA.  I made the move to be closer to the mountains that I love to run in and to get a change of scenery from the beach and bar culture of Hermosa Beach to what I had hoped would be a culture that would facilitate a focus on running and a healthier lifestyle.  It's also been about a year since I raced 100-miles for the first time through the mountains around Big Bear Lake.  Though the timing between the two events was purely coincidental, it's provided me with some interesting perspective into the effects that training with or without other runners can have on preparation for a 100-mile race, and how having runners to train with and look up to can affect the outcome of a year of training.

Last year, as I entered the final weeks leading up to the Kodiak 100, I had trained nearly 100% by myself.  Weekend miles run solo, weekday miles run solo except for a Monday night tempo run with a road running group (Club Ed! Shoutout!), and guidance from the internet and marathon training literature.  I didn't know many/any folks in the ultramarathon world.  I entered the race feeling as prepared as possible, but without much context to know if my training had been good enough.  Had I run enough miles? Climbed enough vertical feet?  Should I have done ANY speed training, tempo work, or hill repeats?  I suppose for a solo runner, these questions would be answered with experience, but with the intention and/or ability to race only 1-2 100-milers in a year, the experience would come slowly.  I ran the race, finished well, learned a lot, and was happy with my experience.

Just before I raced Kodiak, I began to run on Thursday mornings with my local trail running club, the So Cal Coyotes.  I didn't know many of them at first, but did my best to meet new running friends in my new home and learn as much as I could.  Within a month or two, I had also started to run with a subset of this group that typically runs on Tuesday mornings, who, at the time, had no name, but now refer to themselves as the Pacific Mountain Runners, or PMR for short.  This group essentially consisted of like-minded runners who like to train hard and race hard.  I was pretty stoked to run with a group of people whose running speaks for itself but exude a laid back attitude about running and life, despite their seriousness.

Workouts?? Dom and I hammer out some hill repeats with
Andy and Katie. Photo: PMR

As the new year began, I enjoyed opportunities to run with young runners, experienced veterans, and everyone in between.  It was awesome.   I was perpetually stoked to get out for easy runs, hard runs, long runs, and workouts.  Workouts?  I hadn't thought about hill repeats, tempo runs, or anything else since I left the road running world in 2013.  Yep: new home, new ideas.  So much learning.

My 2nd 100-miler at the Wasatch Front 100 is just 10 days away, meaning that I'm neck deep in taper and my mind is working overdrive to make up for the miles that my legs aren't running.  I've been thinking a lot about the past year of running, the runs I've been on, races I've run, and the people that I've run with.  The runs have increased my fitness and strength to allow me to tackle big mountain races, the races have given me experience in pacing, nutrition, and equipment choice, and the people have given me inspiration and training partners.  I've been lucky enough to train with some awesome runners, and they've become my 'team' for the past year, pushing me to be a better runner, sleeper, eater, and in-run picture taker.  So I guess I'm gonna get all sentimental and name some names of people who have made a big difference in my running this year.

PMR Runners or Christian Rock Band? Photo: PMR

PMR Crew - I look up to all the guys and girl that I have run with all year.  And not to sound too much like the Ninja Turtles intro song (which is rad) but I'm going to call them out for what they do. Andy is always stoked to run.  Dude raced 4 ultramarathons in 4 months (3 50s and a 100) earlier this year, and followed it up with a self-supported 100-mile attempt with me through crazy conditions.  For being a fast dude, he reminds me that drinking beer is OK too, and that bad ideas are actually awesome ideas (while returning from injury, he 'walked' the first 75 miles of the AC100...blowing the doors off half the field in the process).  Dom may or may not drink less beer than Andy, but in either case makes up for it with copious amount of NPR knowledge.  His methodical approach to training and logic oriented methods have pushed me to be better, not just at planning and executing workouts, but also at taking care of myself outside of running: sleeping enough, and taking the right steps to recover well.  He planned his now-fiance's training plan for her whole year leading up to the AC100 where she would toe the line feeling more prepared than ever, and PR by a solid chuck of minutes.  I've probably put in more miles with his fiance Katie than I have with any other runner this year.  She and Dom welcomed me into their mountain cabin to help me train for Wasatch Front (probably to get more delicious IPA in their fridge as well...ok and maybe we're friends too) and the time spent there mountain running this summer has been the backbone of my training.  In the miles through the San Gabriels, Katie shared tons of her running experience with me and showed me that even super solid runners have to power through shitty days of training when the body isn't quite ready to execute to plan.  Sufferfests can be followed by great days of running.  The two of them tackling big back-to-back hill-repeat blocks over 2 months inspired me to execute some similar blocks myself, which lead to a Green Peak time trial PR a few weeks ago coming off a huge week.  I can't wait to give it a go on fresh legs!  I didn't run as much with Elan, Chamoun and Guillaume, but watching these guys' dedication to the craft has helped fuel me to train smart, race smart, and push the limits on what I think I can do with my training.  Seriously, I look up to all of these runners and am pumped that I have them to train with.

Yotes - Jimmy Dean's group of runners is really what started it all.  Last year, as part of trying to meet new people and give back to the community, I drove with Erin and Pedro to volunteer at Chimera 100 and in the process met some cool dirtbags who love to run hard and drink beer.  Erin and I put in a solid 35-miler in preparation for Sean O'Brien 100k that crowned my first 100+ mile week as a runner. Jimmy Dean always has an anecdote for every situation, and a piece of advice or quote to suit the situation.  To paraphrase what he said before Kodiak: "At some point, you're going to want to not be running anymore.  That's the time when you decide what kind of 100-mile runner you're going to be."  Those words payed through my head for the entire race.



Howard shows how it's done at the Los Padres Odyssey. Photo: Peter Brennen

The Masters - While I haven't shared a ton of miles with Howard Cohen and Luis Escobar, somehow their words of wisdom frequently pop into my head.  Those guys are legends in their own right and have helped to shape my running in the past year.
There are a ton more people that I've run with this year who I've learned from, but the above few are some that I've shared the most miles with and who I think have had the greatest effect on my running.

So yeah...if you guys are reading this...sorry for calling you all out and being all sentimental...I blame the taper?  Either way, I'm stoked/thankful/amped/etc. for all the awesome runners that I've spent time running and chilling with this year.  I've increased my stoke watching a handful of the above named people tackle their own big races this year, I've run a lot of miles with great people, which is WAY better than running solo (for the most part),  I've consumed a lot more craft beer, way less cheap beer, and less beer in excess, I've introduced root beer as my long run recovery beverage, and finally, without running a significant number more races, I feel like I am vastly more experienced of a runner headed into this year's big race.

This morning I completed my last hard workout before the Wasatch Front 100 and am feeling excited and prepared for one of the toughest 100-milers out there.  In 10 days I will have my team of Crista and Erin with me at the race to think for me while I'm a broken shell of a man at mile 75, but for the past 12 months, my other team has been pushing me to run hard, recover well, try root beer, and sustain the stoke.  Running a 100-miles is deifnitely a team sport.

Photo: PMR

The Yosemite Snake Pit 100

Run Report

I'm exhausted today.  It's been a day since I finished a 26+ hour long 'run' in Yosemite and even 1 good night of sleep apparently does not make up for skipping an entire night of sleep.  I guess that's why there's coffee.  The aformentioned 'run', which I have put into 'quotes' for a reason that will eventually be explained, was an attempt at the 'Yosemite Snake Pit 100-Miler', a self supported 100 mile run through Yosemite.

A few months ago, I was at lunch with my buddy from work, 'Snake Pit' (Matt, but no one calls him that) and we were talking about running.  I had just seen 'The Long Haul' by JB Benna, and was particularly struck by his mention of Catra Corbett's 100-mile self supported run in Yosemite.  A friend told me that Catra's run consisted of a series of laps on the Yosemite Valley floor, and though I still have no idea if that is actually the course that she ran, and the internet hasn't been of much help other than adding that Catra threw in a 9 pitch 5.8 rock climb up Nutcracker at mile 57, I thought, "Running 100 miles on the Valley floor is a gross waste of what Yosemite has to offer!"  I elucidated my thoughts to Matt, and he replied, "So when are you running 100 miles in Yosemite?"  I don't think he was serious, but I got 'inception-ed' and started planning a 100 mile route in Yosemite.

Most people have never seen most of Yosemite.  Probably 90% only go to the Valley, and of the 10% that go elsewhere, probably 90% go only to Tuolumne Meadows.  These places are rad, but there's a lot more to the park than those two locations.  The appropriately named 'Yosemite Snake Pit 100', or YSP100 for short, would need to cover more ground (On a side note, is it douchey to acronym your own fun run?  Either way, it's way easier to write, so I'm going with it.).

Matt thought that it'd be cool to start at Tamarack Flat, run straight to El Cap, and go from there, but I thought a point-to-point would be logistically difficult to do solo, so I planned a loop route from the valley.  The first route that I really liked climbed Yosemite Falls trail and went North, pretty much all the way to Glen Aulin, and then dropped south along the PCT, cut up to Vogelsang and almost all the way to the Southern tip of the park in a huge loop.  The high point of the route was ~11kft. and the total ascent was about 22kft. (on map my run...go figure on the accuracy of that).

2 weeks out from the run, I went to go preview the snow conditions at the high points of the course, got a foot of snow dumped on me overnight at my campsite (6800 ft.) and did no running.  Upon my return home, I promptly started planning lower altitude contingency routes to keep the routes under 10kft.  'Alt Route 3', as it came to be known, turned out to be the YSP100 route.

1 week out from the run, the Yosemite High Sierra was predicted to get some snow the night before we planned to run.  I planned another alt course with a lot of out-and-back sections from the Valley to allow for bailout if the snow got too deep.  This course was ugly and almost defeated the purpose of the whole affair.

1 day before the original start date, the Yosemite High Sierra got a whopping 20+ inches of snow!  Holy hell.

So now we had to deal with a shit ton of snow on what was, 1 day previously, dry ground.  My original plan was to run the route solo.  A 100-mile fun run isn't on most people's lists, and self-supporting that fun run makes it even less likely to be on the lists.  So when my buddy Andy said, "I'm in." when I mentioned what I was planning, I was pretty surprised.  He's a solid runner and I knew that I'd be stoked for the company over the course of the run.  So there were two of us.

In addition to the YSP100 runners, we were lucky to have a few friends come up to join in the fun!  Dom and Katie joined in for the first 20 miles and my girlfriend Crista came to enjoy the mountains and recover from her jaunt through the Grand Canyon the week before.

With this merry crew, we pushed the start date back by 1 day and took off for Yosemite with hopes of completion and a lot of doubts, considering that High Sierra guru and seasoned ultramarathoner Leor Pantilat seemed to think that this snow wasn't going anywhere fast.

The night before the run, we all sat around the fire at Wawona campground.  Andy and I were drinking some beers and talking like the probability of making it out of the valley was low, almost like a weather hold was a foregone conclusion.

Dom and Andy.  Optimism and Pessimism?

The morning of the run was just about perfect.  Blue skies and cool weather with rising temperatures causing the meadows to steam and creating a light fog over the gorgeous green carpets.  Perhaps the most beautiful I've ever seen Yosemite Valley.

No Filter.  Holy shit dude.  I had to stop the car in the street because I couldn't pass this up.

The route starts up the Rockslide Trail, I assume named for the huge granite rockslides that it crosses.  This is probably the easiest climb out of the valley that you can find and all 4 of us were having a blast with the moderate grade and amazing views of Bridalveil Falls that the trail afforded to us.  I think this trail was one of the many that were paved in Yosemite's early tourist craze, before the park stewards decided that paved tourist pathways were not what the park is all about. 

Now, 40+ years later, the asphalt is still there, slowly being taken back by nature, but still providing an incredibly efficient running surface.  As the trail climbed, snow began to appear in small amounts on the sides of the trail, and then sparsely in the trail, and finally covering the trail as we neared the turn onto Oak Flat trail towards El Capitan summit.  At one point we saw some bear tracks in the snow! Amazingly crisp...but their owner was nowhere to be found.

The Rockslides trail hits the Oak Flat trail and curves back East to continue to the climb to El Cap.  I was hiking and running, trying to keep my heart rate low and my quads at a work rate that could last 100 miles.  As we approached the high point on the trail, I looked at Andy and one of us said, "Oh man, we might actually have to run 100 miles today!" Ha! Yeah, the snow was melting off and we were getting more and more confident that, judging by the snow level at 7800 ft., we'd be able to clear the 9900 ft. high point on the course without much effort.  The views of Cloud's Rest were only bolstering our confidence...only specks of snow to be seen!

Rockslides Trail was an unexpected high point on the course; I had never run it, and it was rad.  Expected high points were the El Capitan Summit and Eagle Peak, two summits about 2 miles apart on the North Rim of the Valley.  They did not disappoint, and after some brief exploration at El Cap, and a quick break at Eagle Peak, we set out to charge down the Yosemite Falls trail to the car where we had left the remainder of our nutrition.

The view from the summit of El Capitan.

Fully loaded, my pack weighed in at 18.2 lb. and Andy's was somewhere near 15 lb.  9000 calories of carbs isn't light, but as we discussed afterwards, we would both make some changes for next time around. For example: no fucking rice cakes.  Those things are delicious, but heavy.

In the Valley, we stopped by Degnan's for some grub (chicken and bean burritos) and cokes before loading up fully and heading for the Snow Creek Trail for the climb back out of the Valley towards Tenaya Lake and Tuolumne Meadows.  With our packs, loaded, we said goodbye to Dom and Katie and headed for the climb.

Running with a 16-18 lb. pack on is tough.  It's heavy (duh), it bounces, and it's overall a pain in the ass to deal with.  Combine that with the Snow Creek climb, some unexpectedly warm temps, and a poor choice of a black longsleeve smartwool and one gets a lot of second guessing of choices...a great place to be at mile 25 of 100!  Snow Creek also happens to be a pretty formidable climb...2500 ft. in 2.5 miles, so it was great that we could take our minds of the climb with the breathtaking views of Half Dome and Clouds Rest directly across Tenaya Canyon from us that were increasingly approaching eye-level as we climbed!

Andy makes moves after the
Snow Creek climb starts to flatten out.

At the plateau above the Snow Creek climb, the trail continues to climb at a reduced grade and is obnoxiously pleasant.  Soft soil single track following a bubbling creek through the trees, climbing towards Highway 120 and the descent to Tenaya Lake.  Looking at what distance we were at, vs. what we had expected to be at, we decided that MapMyRun was predicting nearly 10% short, so we opted to change course and eliminate the May Lake loop to head straight for Tenaya Lake in hopes of hitting 100 miles on the nose and not 110.  My quads were already feeling bombed from the climbs and descents that we'd done to that point, but I resolved to continue eating and hope that they came back to life after some downhill and rest.  Andy, meanwhile, was dealing with some hamstring and knee issues, but seemed to be managing well except for one charlie horse episode while climbing over a downed tree.  Dom had him on some Wharton Method stretches...maybe they were helping?

The Clouds are Resting.  Looking across Tenaya Canyon after the Snow Creek climb.

We finally hit the top of the climb and began to descend into Tenaya Lake.  This descent was super fun and we were cruising along well...until we got lost.  I think we must have followed a wash instead of a trail, bolstered in confidence by some cairns, because we ended up off-course by some super sweet campsites near Olmstead Point.  Luckily, I had the course and USGS topos saved into Gaia GPS on my phone and we navigated back to the course relatively quickly.  Daylight was fading and we hoped that this would be our only route-finding adventure for the run.  We continued on with minimal difficulty, donning headlamps around 8:30pm.

Unknown pond on the way to Tenaya Lake.

When we hit Tenaya Lake, however, we discovered that the trail crosses the outflow of the lake, which is a 2 foot deep, 30 foot wide river of snowmelt.  I don't know if they have a bridge that is only up in the summer or what, but there was no way we were gonna soak ourselves to the bone with a night of running through 10,000 ft. High Sierra ahead!  Instead, we opted to run the highway (closed because of the snow) up to Tuolumne Meadows and rejoin the trail there.  The trail, minus the portion that skirts the West side of Tenaya Lake, closely follows the road anyway.

It was getting cold out as we approached 9000 ft. elevation, and we both resisted getting out the shells and warm tights, instead opting to run when we could.  After a boring, dark road run that seemed to take forever, we reached Tuolumne Meadows around 11pm.  All warm clothes went on because we had been seeing on the side of the road what lay ahead for us: snow.  The snow had steadily been getting heavier, meaning that despite the sunshine all day, the snow was sticking around.  Damn.  Our bailout plan in the event of heavy snow, to avoid hours of postholing, was to turn around and run back down to the Valley whenever it became too hard to continue.  At Tuolumne Meadows, however, we decided to go for it.  We had spikes if we needed, were were hoping for some bootpack from the early season John Muir Trail (JMT) hikers, and it might actually be quicker to hike the snow than run back around.

Run through the night...and the snow!

Well...we started, and at 5am we finished, the snowy sections of trail.  There was maybe 100 feet of runnable terrain, unless you are a beast and can run in snow at 9500 ft. 50 miles into a run, throughout the night. This is why I called this a 'run', haha.  There was a lot of running, but also a lot of hiking through the night.   Where the trail was covered, luckily a hiker had come through and 1 set of tracks led us up the climb to Cathedral Lakes.  This was a life/timesaver because route finding through the snow would have made for one hell of a night.  Where the trail was bare there was, however, a neverending river of iced-over snow melt running down the worn-in JMT path. At Cathedral Lakes, the tracks stopped (Big ups to that hiker, he must have camped out in the snow storm and then hiked down afterwards) and we went into full-on post hole mode.  Route finding wasn't too bad, but sometimes we were knee deep in snow, kick-stepping up the slopes.  With only a couple of surprising punch throughs down to the thigh and mostly 6-12 inch deep snow that compacted well to hold us up, we made steady but slow progress to Cathedral Pass and then to just before Sunrise High Sierra Camp where our next turn was.  At this point it was 2:45am, my feet were soaked from running through snow all day, and trench foot had set in.  Every step hurt just a little more than the last.  I had taken off one pair of socks on the Highway 120 portion of the run in hopes that if I ran with them flailing around from my hands, that they would dry out...they did not: it was like 30 degrees out...nice try dude.  We evaluated how long it had taken us to get to where we were, and how long it would take to get to the rest of the 100 miles and realized that there was no way that we'd get back before evening the next day if conditions were perfect for the rest of the run and our bodies held up.  If conditions weren't perfect, we'd be running into the next night, which wasn't an option either food-wise or 'my girlfriend is waiting at the bottom to drive home so she can do work on Monday'-wise.  I dunno, Andy's wife might care about him coming home too.  The end result was that we decided that we'd run down to Half Dome, where we'd secured a day permit from the early season lottery, and then evaluate how much of the course we could run.

Immediately, we started running through more snow past the Sunrise High Sierra Camp, and then on the climb out of that meadow, and finally over the pass and partway down the switchbacks back to the Meadow Fire area.  Good thing we had already decided that we 'probably' needed to cut the run short, because this would have made us know that we needed to cut it short.  More postholing, cracking through ice-trail-rivers, and following Coyote tracks (that dude knew the trail better than anyone...even when the bootpack veered off, the Coyote tracks always followed the real trail...follow the Coyote tracks became my motto for the climb out of the meadow!).  Finally, around 5am, we were below the snow line.  I was running behind Andy and my Petzl Nao was regulating brightness off his reflective tights and creating a kind of soothing, pulsating lighting.  I started zoning out and eventually realized that I was attempting to fall asleep while I was running! Oh shit! After this happened a couple of times, I skirted past Andy and started running harder...I needed to wake up!  He commended me on my willingness to try and run hard, but I told him it was a necessity, to keep my face out of the dirt! At the bottom of the switchbacks, he gave me a caffeine pill (200mg...nice) and the sky started to lighten up.  Within an hour it was light, and we were running as well as we could down the JMT towards Half Dome.

The sky begins to lighten! ...Illuminating a forest of burnt trees.

This section of trail was nice.  The JMT is a freeway as far as trails are concerned!  I was blown away by how different it looked after the Meadow Fire.  Everything was bare.  It was really cool looking and feeling, and very sad in the same moment.

Foot care on the subdome

We got down the trail and headed up to the subdome with the intention of climbing half dome.  Tired legs and injuries got the better of us, and instead of tackling the cables, we ate burgers (yeah, I carried burgers for 60 fucking miles) and started the run down.

The run down was kind of a sad happy time.  I was bummed that we couldn't finish the plan, but I was amped that I was out of the snow and was looking forward to a beer.  We ran the Mist Trail route to the bottom, and then took a weirdly convoluted Valley Loop Trail route to the village parking lot.  As we were running up to my car, who did we run into but Dom, Katie and Crista!  Dom and Katie were getting ready to run Half Dome and Crista was getting ready to hike 4-mile trail to see us as we finished the 100-mile route.  They hadn't gotten my text messages from Half Dome (even though they sent...damn you Verizon...or somebody!).  What an awesome coincidence and great way to finish the run!  We all hung out for a bit as Andy and I chilled out to take in the fact that we didn't have to have our feet in shoes anymore, running through endless fields of snow in the dark.

Needless to say, we went and got Curry Village Pizza Deck Pizza, and Beer.  I can't wait to head back up there and run this route when it's dry.

Run Summary: 72.2 miles, 15,826 ft. of climbing
Strava Data

Gear List:
Shoes: New Balance 1210v2
Socks: Injinji Liners and Dry Max Midweight Outers
Tights: Saucony Amp Pro2
Shirt: Smartwool Longsleeve (150 weight? Not sure.)
Jacket: Mountain Hardwear Hooded Running Sweater
Shell: Mountain Hardwear Capacitor Jacket
Hat: PMR Trucker
Buff: Dirtbag Runners Buff
Beanie: Fleece
Gloves: Outdoor Research Hot Pursuit
Microspikes: Hillsound Trail Ultra
Water Filter: Sawyer Mini (squeeze)

Food:
Tailwind: 3000 Cal
Rice Cakes (Calrose Rice, Bacon, Honey, Brown Sugar, Liquid Aminos): 3000 Cal
Gels (ClifShot, etc.): 3000 Cal
Burger: 600 Cal
Salt: SaltStick Tablets

Comments

I struggle to separate a 'Run Report' voice from how I actually talk and think, so maybe adding a section will help with that.  I was super amped for this run.  Since the conversation with Matt, I had been tinkering with the route, trying to assess map accuracy, going over snow reports and melt off rates, it was crazy.  I was pumped.  I was also pumped because I get to run a fucking 100 miles in Yosemite.  That just sounds rad.  Yeah, it's gonna suck, but it's gonna be rad too.  When Andy decided to join, I was also pumped to have a buddy to run with.  Running with no one else through the night and snow of the High Sierra would have been a shitty experience for me...no doubt.  Thanks for coming along dude, it was rad to have a running buddy!  Hope you like Yosemite!

Also, it was his first time to Yosemite!  Yep, he'd never been, cause he's from Hotlanta.  Best way to see Yosemite: run an ultramarathon that tags El Cap, Eagle Peak, Yosemite Falls, Mirror Lake, Snow Creek, Tenaya Lake, Tuolumne Meadows, the JMT, Half Dome, Clouds Rest, Nevada Falls, Panorama Trail and Glacier Point in one shot.  And that totally sells out the entire Southern Half of the park which is gorgeous but massively underrated because it's way the fuck out there. And Rockslide Trail which was an unexpected highlight of the trip.  OK, so an ultramarathon that runs through the night is not the best way to see the park because it's dark for a couple of those 'bucket list' items...but otherwise it's fucking amazing. Fuck yeah.  Sorry Andy, the snow made you miss out on a couple of those...I guess we gotta go back and do it right! Yeah, there's no doubt that we (I? We?) are going back to do the route right.  Running not in the snow is fun as shit.  Running in snow is stupid and shitty and makes we want to die, physically, while I slowly die on the inside from hours of staring into a white prison of headlamp on snow as my foot breaks through the melt crust, again, and sinks down to the knee, again, while my foot looks like the wrinkled face of one of those 115 year people from Japan.  Fuck that.  It's worth clarifying, I am not put off by the fact that the Japanese person's face is wrinkled...it's 115 years old, it's supposed to look like that and that is normal.  I am referring to the fact that my foot is 30 years old and is also a foot, so it is not supposed to look like that.  Fuck you, wet foot.

Also, I will not turn down Curry Village Pizza Deck Pizza and Beer after a long ass run.  That shit is amazing and should be a critical part of any Yosemite Valley Trip.

My highlights, in no particular order:

1. Rockslide Trail: Runnable and fun, good views, variable surrounding flora.
2. The view from El Capitan and Eagle Peak.  Both of these views are great.  Eagle Peak is underrated and easily runnable, round trip, from the valley floor.
3. Pywiack Cascade.  You complete a shit ton of climbing and then get an amazing view of these falls and Tenaya Canyon.  Gorgeous.
4. Running with someone.  Running this solo would have been an exercise in mental endurance.
5. Pizza.
6. Beer.
7. Downhill running. In Yosemite. Not on snow.  Seriously, there's some climbing on this route, but there's also some really fun downhill with great views and awesome trail quality that is typical of a National Park.
8. The Petzl-fucking-Nao-2.  This headlamp is incredible.  You plug it into your computer and you can set the light up to last however many hours you want (estimated, of course), up to the maximum of like 28 or something.  I set up a 10.5 hour setting, which was bright as shit, that lasted all the way through the night.  I had 34% battery left when I checked this morning on my computer.  I ran from 8:30pm to 5:30am with the thing going the whole time.

My lowlights:
1. Running in the snow.  Yeah, we knew what we were in for, probably, but it didn't make it suck less.  Next time, GoreTex shoes and gaitors.
2. Running with a heavy pack.  This takes some of the joy out of running...doesn't feel so 'free' with 18 fucking pounds on my back.
3. Wet socks.  For hours.  Never had trench foot before...it sucks.
4. Wearing a black longsleeve.  Seriously, this made what should have been a really comfortable 70 degrees and sunny into a less than comfortable sweatfest.  Dunno if short sleeves were the answer, but a lighter color would definitely help!  Idiot.

Race Report: Marin Ultra Challenge 50-Miler

Run Hard or Run Home?

The Backstory

A little over a month ago I ran the Sean O'Brien 100k and got into the Wasatch Front 100 in the same weekend.  Other than those two races, I had nothing on the books, and hadn't planned to run anything in March.

Meanwhile, my girlfriend is training for the Leona Divide 50 miler, and was looking to run a 50k race as a training run to test out nutrition, pacing, and equipment.  She found the Marin Ultra Challenge 50k in Marin County and asked if I'd want to come race if she ran it as a training run.  The area is beautiful and the trails are fun, so I hopped on board to run the 50-mile distance while she ran the 50k.  The 50-mile is not an easy course, with 11,100 feet of claimed total ascent, and I was excited to see what it had in store for me.

My recovery from SOB had been pretty lackadaisical, but my core was doing OK and the legs felt strong, so I figured I could hammer out a 50 miler to gage what kind of progress I had made since I last raced in the area at the 2013 North Face Endurance Challenge 50-miler.

I had been watching the weather reports during the week leading up to the race, and the last that I checked, they read about 75 degrees and sunny at the hottest portion of the day.  I didn't check the weather for the 3 or so days leading up to the race, so I really didn't know what to expect on race day and planned for 75 degrees.  The RD sent out a couple pre-race emails, and both said to prepare for heat, which is fine, so I showed up on the starting line in a singlet and shorts with 2 water bottles, ready to go.

My nutrition plan was the same as SOB: drink 200 cal/hr of Tailwind and supplement with gels and chips as necessary.  1 bottle in my vest would have the calorie drink, and the other would have plain water for cooling and drinking.  Possibly relevant to the report is that I had just had my lip operated on that week and so I had some stitches to deal with and was on antibiotics to prevent infection.  Does that stuff affect heart rate?

 The Race

The race is a low key setup: a field with parking, some tables/tents for race business and aid, and a blow-up starting arch.  This was nice, because it was easy to get ready at the car and be right there at the starting line.  The aforementioned field is located at Marin's Fort Baker, which sits almost directly beneath the North End of the Golden Gate Bridge, and provided for some stellar views of the lit-up bridge in the early morning darkness of the start.  A great way to begin the day!

View from the starting area.  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

The horn went off about 10 minutes after 6am and we took off into the darkness via a paved road for the first half mile or so.  I opted to go out hard because, though I did not know this first portion of the course, I guessed that we would be in single-track soon and did not want to get caught in a conga-line for the first miles of the race.  I silo-ed myself into my headlamp beam and blazed past most of the pack to situate myself in the top 20 or 30 runners.  Both the 50-mile and 50k runners started at the same time, so I really had no idea who ahead of me would be hammering for 30 miles or 50, so I tried to settle myself into a nice spot where I could climb at my own pace and also not block anyone out who wanted to hammer.

The after a few paved curves of climbing, the course took a hard left onto some wood-beam stairs on single track and the trail portion began.  The trail was winding and well maintained...a great start for the run, but as I glanced down when the first mile ticked off, I noticed that my heart rate was already through the roof! "178??? Damn, that's way to high...I don't feel like I'm climbing that hard!" I thought to myself, but I quickly reminded myself that I was probably propped up on starting line adrenaline and that I should obey the heart rate monitor.

After trying, unsuccessfully, to dial the heart rate back into what I would consider a more manageable range (150-160 is where I normally climb at), I decided that today was a good day to die and that I'd run at this effort level until I blew up.  I settled in somewhere in the 160s and went for it.

A cursory study of the race profile showed 9 major climbs, though I think 8.5 would be more accurate.  I find the best way for me to check off progress on race courses is to know how many major climbs/descents I have to tackle.  The first climb out of Fort Baker into the headlands was #1, and sent the runners over a saddle, and down a double-track to Rodeo Valley, out towards Rodeo Beach, and on to the 2nd climb. 

The Marin Ultra Challenge 50-Miler Elevation Profile (Image Courtesy of InsideTrail.com)

Hill 88, as it's called is a bit steep with a mix of single track, stairs, and road.  I settled into climbing, and made it up and down towards Tennessee Valley in no time.  I remembered the descent into Tennessee Valley leaving me beaten up during the Endurance Challenge, but this time I came into the aid station feeling really solid, if not a little wary of my high heart rate.

Looking South from the climb up Hill 88.  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

I was stoked to hear the the race was serving Tailwind at the aid stations, so I pulled up and started filling Tailwind into my bottles, but after taking 1 swig and not being able to taste any flavor, I figured the aid station crew hadn't mixed a high enough concentration, so I resorted to my backup plan of ziplocs of Tailwind in my drop bags.  This worked out fine, but it took a while and I dropped a few positions in the process of filling my bottles and dumping my headlamp into the drop bag.  As I ran out of the station, I could see a guy I know, Ian, up ahead of me, and I thought I might try to catch up to him without destroying myself, but my body wasn't having it and I maintained my already high heart rate heading into the 3rd 'climb' (the 0.5 of the 8.5 climbs).

The trail snakes along some rugged Nor Cal coastline.  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

Due to not paying attention to the course distances between aid, I filled 2 bottles at Tennessee Valley and 4 miles later, I ran into Muir Beach and blew right through the aid station with plenty of water and Tailwind to spare.  This aid station funnels the runners up a small valley and into the first of 2 relatively large climbs on the course.  The Cardiac Hill climb is not steep, and is rather runnable, but I found myself in a constant state of worry that I was going to blow up and kept reining myself in.  The views from this climb are also spectacular.  Behind the runners are the rolling hills of the headlands that we had just traversed, beyond which is the coastal side of San Francisco. 

Green rolling hills and the Golden Gate Bridge peeking out! Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

To the left, the meadows roll down the hills, over the highway, and into the ocean, and to the right the valleys extend off into Marin and turn from sage meadow to green forest.  Ahead, the trail climbs through both meadow and forest to reach the aid station.  At the aid station, I filled bottles, grabbed extra Tailwind for the Stinson Beach aid station and headed off down the famous Dipsea Trail.

The Dipsea Trail is steep and fun, winding through tall redwoods down to the ocean.  My legs were starting to feel the fatigue a bit (Shit! 20 miles in?? Already??) and I continued to second-guess my race strategy.  I had no choice but to continue running on, so after the fun descent, I was deposited onto the streets of Stinson Beach, where I ran through and up to the aid station at the bottom of the Willow Camp climb.  Here, I ran into a runner I've met a few times, Chris, who is a fast dude himself and we talked for a bit as I filled up, and then I started off up the climb.  Always good to see local runners staffing the aid stations!

Willow Camp is a burly climb.  It's mostly steep, with a lot of it heading straight up the hill, and it's almost 1800 vertical feet, which is solid for a coastal run!  I was hiking hard and lamenting to myself about my high heart rate, but it seemed like my body was handling it, so I even wondered if maybe my heart rate monitor was malfunctioning.  Either way, some time later, I ended up at the top of the climb, stiff and tired.  I started cranking along the flattish single track (the out-and-back portion of TNFEC for those who know that race) back towards Pantoll and the Cardiac aid station.  Surprisingly, I felt pretty good.  It was heating up, but I wasn't too beat up yet, and the ocean was providing some respite with a cool breeze.  The section of trail from the top of Willow Camp to Cardiac Hill is my favorite on the course...it's not steep, it's very runnable and the views are fantastic!

At Pantoll, the road official had brought out some water and an ice bath with a sponge, so I filled up half a bottle of my now-empty bottles and doused myself in ice water for the last mile until Cardiac.  The last mile was more great single track and I got into Cardiac feeling ready to fill up and keep running well.

The descent that followed is super fun.  The smooth-packed single track trail snakes down through a forested valley of trees down to a creek at the along the valley floor.  I blazed by boyscouts and hikers who kindly accommodated their faster moving trail counterparts by stepping to one side or the other when I would call out a greeting.  During this section, apparently the course had been vandalized and there were no ribbons for a quite some time.  I was a bit worried, but there weren't any turnoffs, so I continued plugging down the hill.  Towards the bottom, hikers began to tell us that we were on the right track, and that others had said to pass the word along...phew!  The striped turn ribbons at the bottom confirmed this and my mind was able to relax.  During this descent, and following climb, I met a fellow runner, Dan, who I would end up running with on and off for the rest of the race.  He was pretty much the only other runner that I saw for the rest of the day!

The Ocean View climb is also single track with some stairs, mostly smooth and runnable terrain winding up and across the hill before it gently turns to flat, and then down into Muir Woods.  My legs were feeling more and more beat up, but I found that my hiking was still strong, and a strong hike/run combo on the hills seemed to be keeping me at a solid pace.  Some chips and Tailwind at Muir Woods really helped me feel solid, and the aid station captain actually filled one of my ziplocs with Tailwind powder so that I could dose my own bottle at the Muir Beach aid station.

Normally, Muir Beach is 2.6 miles from there and along pretty much all flat trail.  Unfortunately, due to my inadequate study of the course map, I did not realized at first that we do not follow the same trail as the TNFEC, and instead head up onto Dias Ridge.  At the turn marker and sign that read 'Dias Ridge', I realized my mistake, and made the mental readjustment to start climbing again.  This section of trail is super rad as well, and highly runnable for someone who is not in the middle of a slow-motion legsplosion, but for me, I was reduced to a run/hike again.  Luckily, Dan was behind me by not much, and every few switchbacks I would see him running and this helped me to stay motivated to turn up the pace a bit.  He passed me when I stopped to stretch my ever tightening hammies and I chased him all the way into Muir Beach, and then up climb number 8.

At this point, the heat of the day was in full swing, and my PMR trucker hat was soaked through, creating a delightful sauna on my head, which I did not appreciate.  However, I appreciated the shade on my face that the brim generated, so I put up with it.

Climb 8 was an unfamiliar climb to me, but it was also a nice and winding single track that was completely exposed to the sun, so I did my best to keep hydrating and drinking Tailwind.  My singlet was soaked through and sticking to me and I was sweating like crazy, but somehow I wasn't feeling too bad just yet!  I caught Dan at the top of the climb and we started the descent together, talking about course marking and successfully navigating an unmarked turn to the descent into Tennessee Valley.  I remember this descent well from TNFEC: my knees hurt, my legs hurt, my feet hurt...I was toasted.  This time, however, I was feeling stiff and tired, but I still had some gas in the tank!  Unfortunately, I also had something else in the tank, and the downhill pounding seemed to loosen it up, so I slowed a bit to make it to the aid station intact.

After a delightful bio break in an outhouse at the aid station, I realized that I had a throbbing headache and was pretty dehydrated.  'No matter,' I thought, 'I only have 6 miles to go'.  So I filled up on Tailwind, downed some Coke and Mountain Dew, took an ice sponge shower and ran out to tackle the last climb.

Climb #9, or as it is officially known, Marincello, is a smooth and gradually climbing fire trail.  I was able to hike/run again, but was feeling more and more beat up and haggard and my legs were unhappy with motion.  The sun was beating down, and though I tried to wear my hat backwards to get some breeze through the mesh, the sun continued to force me to turn it around to shade my face.  Definitely ready to be done running.

The top of the climb yields to a short fire road descent, another short fire road climb, and then the winding single track and pavement descent to the finish.

I could see Dan ahead of me by a decent amount, but the thought of trying to hammer for another 4 miles to catch him and pass him for an inconsequential placing increase left me unmotivated to bury myself to pip him at the finish line. I decided to just run hard and see what happened.

Over the next 4 miles, I reeled him in a bit, but ended up over a minute behind him, making me wish I had time to take that last pre-race dump instead of wasting the time at Tennessee Valley, but that's life.  The final miles were tough, as I suppose they should be while running hard for 9-ish hours, but after cruising into the finish and sitting down, I realized that I didn't feel all that bad, and I wasn't going to die of heat exhaustion.

I was stoked to see that the girlfriend had finished her 50k in 1 piece and had actually executed it really well.  It was her 1st mountain 50k, and with 7100 vertical feet of total ascent, it was a good one!

Stoked to be done and enjoying the sunshine in Marin!  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.

The clock read 9:26 and change when I ran through.  I had originally thought that I could break 9 hours here, after having split 9:03 at the 50 mile mark at the SOB 100k, but the heat had other plans, so a sub-9 performance was relegated to another, cooler and/or more fit day.  Still, it was a 50-mile PR by 50 minutes in some challenging conditions on a challenging course.  I'll take that any day.  Now it's beer time.

The benefits of racing in the North Bay...a trip to Russian River Brewing the day before the race to pick up some post race hydration supplies!  Photo Courtesy of Crista Scott.