I recently attempted and completed my first (and last?) 100 miler on September 11 and 12th. I happened to choose one of the most difficult 100 milers in the country, "The Wasatch Front 100 Mile Endurance Run". It gains nearly 27,000 feet in elevation, and loses nearly as much ( I would argue the loss is harder on a runner's body than the gain) as it meanders along trails through six counties from Davis County to Wasatch County. All this must be completed making various "Cut-off" times along the way and be finished within 36 hours.
I admit, after running several road marathons and making the switch to trail running, the Wasatch 100 intrigued me as sort of the holy grail of trail running in Utah. It seemed like something I would probably never be able to do, but was something I secretly aspired to. A 100 mile race is not something you decide to undertake one day in the Spring and run in the Fall. My training and preparation probably started a year and a half before as I started running races longer than 26.2 miles on trails back in 2008.
Entry into the popular Wasatch 100 is done by lottery on January 1. So even before the New Year, it was on my mind and I had planned an ever increasingly difficult training schedule leading up to the race in September. The schedule included about one ultra race per month starting in February, with several 50K's and 50 mile runs and finally a 100K in August. Then the 6 week "taper" leading up to the race in September, meaning a decreasing amount of running, so as not to have tired legs going into the race.
Heading into the days before the race I had the usual pre-race "phantom" aches and pains, some of which worried me more than others. My left ankle hurt a little from a run a few weeks ago. All of the sudden I felt an occasional catch in my right knee. Fortunately, none of these turned into actual problems during the race. I gave myself about a 50:50 chance of finishing under 36 hours, given the fact that usually about 2/3's of the people who start, finish and the fact that this was my first Wasatch 100.
THE START
One great thing about the Wasatch 100 is the starting line is only about 5 minutes from my home. With the race beginning at 5:00 AM on a Friday, I got up about 4:15 AM, got ready, and Kathy drove me to the starting line at the Kaysville Wilderness Park. As she dropped me off and saw all the other crazy runners, the last thing she said to me besides "I love you" was "I don't think this is such a good idea".
"All Smiles at the Starting Line in Kaysville"
The race started right at 5:00 AM to nothing more than some whooping and hollering by the runners. At this time of morning, there is still about 1.5 hours until the sunrise. So all of us were outfitted with headlamps and flashlights. The temperature was cool, but not especially so, meaning we were in for a warm day later on. I jumped into the latter half of the pack and jogged north along the road. Within in 1/2 mile, the course veers right, up to the single track Bonneville Shoreline Trail (BST). With hundreds of runners, you in essence, are in a Conga Line and pretty much run or walk at the pace of the section you're in. If you're feeling bold, you break ranks from the line and politely move ahead a few positions, announcing "To your left" as you pass people.
This first five miles go north in and out of canyons above East Layton. This is a section of trail that Zeke, Zoey and I have run dozens of times. I probably could do it in my sleep, but was content to do it awake. After four or five stream crossings, the course leaves the BST and takes the Great Western Trail (GWT) up the side of the mountain towards the ridge. The first question people ask when I tell them I ran a 100 mile race is, "You ran continuously for 100 miles?" The simple answer is no. There are some sections which are so steep that's it's impractical to run uphill; plus you learn that you need to wisely conserve energy by walking or hiking certain sections of the trail. This next section is certainly one of those. Within a few miles the elevation rises from about 5000' to over 9000'. The good news is, at least it's early in the race and the legs are relatively fresh. Besides, the walking gives you more opportunity to talk to other runners and maybe enjoy the scenery. And one of my strongpoints is going uphill.
"Chinscraper (mile 8)"
About half way up the mountain, the sun began to rise. A fantastic view of the valley below began to unfold. In time, the "Conga Line" spreads out a little bit, and I was actually able to proceed at a pace of my choosing. Before long we arrived at the base of the infamous Chinscraper, the final ascent to the 9000' + ridge. In this section there is some "scrambling" involved, meaning use of hands may be required. The race instructions say to either keep a considerable distance between yourself and the next runner so as to avoid loose rocks falling on your head, or make sure you're close enough to the next runner that you can actually touch them. Aside from some minor rockfall, Chinscraper didn't pose any problems this time. Once you crest the summit and catch your breath, you're rewarded to a spectacular view of the valley below with the Great Salt Lake in the background.
ON TO FRANCIS PEAK
"Climb towards Thurston Peak; 9000 feet"
(Antelope Island; background left)
The next section I really enjoyed. With the exception of a few brief climbs, much of it is actually runnable as you skirt both the west and east sides of the Davis/Morgan County ridgeline. There's even a natural spring along the way where water bottles can be filled. After a brief climb towards Thurston Peak, the highest point in Davis and Morgan Counties, the route settles back into runnable terrain. Finally, we arrive at the famous "Paul Bunyan's Golf Balls" which are actually the giant white radar towers atop Francis Peak. From this point, there's a 3-4 mile steady jaunt down the gravel road to the first aid station at Mile 18.
"Paul Bunyan's Golf Balls, a.k.a. Francis Peak (mile 15)"
On ultra-marathons, aid stations are typically placed every 6-9 miles along the course to provide food, drink and opportunities for runners to briefly rest, change their socks or shoes, etc. As you arrive and leave aid stations, you announce your bib number so the aid workers can log you in, and via ham radio, post your times to the internet. The aid station workers are always eager to help runners with anything they need, in my case, filling my one hand water bottle and hydration pack. The more serious runners try to minimize their time at aid stations, as they can suck up a lot of time. My goal was to spend no more than 5 minutes at each minor aid station and maybe 10 at the major ones. At the first aid station, I spent about 8 minutes filling water bottles/hydration packs and grabbing some fuel (food; fruit, pretzels, candy) for the next section.
Coming out of Francis Peak Aid station, I found that I was about 10 or 15 minutes ahead of my anticipated pace. I proceeded along the section known as Farmington Flats, a nice fairly wooded road. I even heeded nature's call for the first time within some trees off the trail. I won't go into detail other than to say there's considerably more involved in trail pit stop than say a port-a-potty stop. Also it pays to beware of burrs.
The trail drops down to the beaver ponds and winds through some heavy brush leading up and down a primitive trail. I would say it was this point where I hit my first real low. I realized that my knees hurt enough to make it difficult to run any downhill sections. I believe it was at this point I took my first Ibuprofen/Tylenol cocktail. This kicked in several minutes later making my trip to the next aid station, the Bountiful "B" Aid station more enjoyable.
On the downside, the day was heating up, and it was obvious I needed to consciously drink water as I proceeded for fear of getting dehydrated. Along this section I walked/jogged with Andrew, another local runner, who is in the process of completing the Western Grand Slam of ultras, that is, the Hardrock 100 in Colorado, The Big Horn in Wyoming, The Wasatch 100, and 2 weeks later The Bear from Logan to Preston, ID. Whenever I felt rotten, I'd think of Andrew and how he had to do another 100 miler in 2 weeks. Andrew and I generally leapfrogged each other the remainder of the race.
"In the Aspens near Sessions"
By the time I hit the Sessions Liftoff Aid station I was feeling better. I continued to run about 10 minutes ahead of plan. There's a nice climb after this into a section of the course I had not run before. Much of this next section was exposed to the sun. Fortunately it was about 8000' elevation so it wasn't terribly hot. I continued to eat and drink more than I though I should just to stay fueled and hydrated. It was in this section that I met Hans. Hans is 69 years old and was running his 116th 100 mile race. He started when he was 59. So Hans runs about 12 of these a year, nearly every weekend in the summer. He's a tall, skinny man who I would pass on the uphills. He'd say to me in his German accent, "Tony, you go ahead, I'm tired from my race last weekend". Then he would cruise past me on the downhills. He eventually beat me by an hour or two.
Upon hitting the Swallow Rocks aid station, I was back in familiar territory, having run this section before. The next 5 miles would be my last before meeting my first pacer at Mile 40. I only had a few more miles of iPod running left to go. This section consists of gentle up's and down's along the ridgeline.
"My first pacer, Oliver Burt; (Mile 40)"
I was so excited to run down to the Big Mountain Pass Aid Station (Mile 40) to meet Oliver Burt, my first pacer. Oliver works with me in the Priest's Quorum in our ward. Also there was my fantastic crew of Kathy and Marissa. They had decorated the car in celebration and of course were there with any aid station items I was in need of. I quickly downed a bottle of Ultragen in hopes of renewing my tired legs. There was a lot of activity at this aid station with most of the aid workers dressed up as vikings for some reason. I was also weighed in here to make sure I hadn't lost too much weight. I think I actually had gained weight.
"Kathy & Marissa at Big Mountain: Greatest Crew Ever !"
So Oliver and I were off on the gentle uphill climb to Bald Mountain. It was good to have someone to keep me company and get my mind off some of the aches and pains I was beginning to have. Most of the next few miles we "power-walked" with some occasional running. Oliver enjoyed stopping once in awhile to pick up horny toads and carry them along the trail. As we turned west at Pence Point, I had two problems that were beginning to set in; 1) A hot spot on my left heel, 2) and twinges of nausea. At the Alexander Basin Aid station I nursed the hot spot on my heel with some "Second Skin" and a Band-Aid. That seemed to relieve the problem somewhat. Dusk was settling in as we headed up the switchback towards Lamb's Canyon. Finally, the sun set as we made our way down to Lamb's Canyon forcing us to use headlamps the last few miles.
"Approaching Parley's Canyon; (mile 50)"
It was at this point that I realized my stomach had stopped working- meaning no burps and no... well you know what I mean. As Oliver and I pulled into the Lamb's Canyon aid station, I wasn't in too good of shape. My crew, Kathy, Marissa and Mike Cummings, herded me to the weigh scale, and presented me with a cold Coca-Cola and a Hires hamburger. I briefly sat down and managed to eat about half the burger but even the Coke didn't settle my stomach. They helped me change into my night running gear and my next pacer, Dr. Paul Winterton, and I were off, up the dark Lamb's Canyon Road.
"Mike, Oliver, Tony and Paul at Lamb's Canyon (mile 52)"
INTO THE NIGHT
As we got off the paved road and started on the single track trail up to Bear Ass Pass (I swear that's what it's called), my stomach became increasingingly non-functional. I was feeling pretty rotten. My only desire was to lie down somewhere and have my nausea go away. Good ol' Paul kept up a constant conversation and managed the right amount of encouragement to keep me going. Unfortunately, I didn't even feel like talking, let alone climbing up a cold, dark mountain pass. We saw one spent runner and pacer coming back towards us, claiming nausea as the culprit. But mostly we were passed by other runners who felt much better than I did. It seemed like the 2 miles to the summit took forever, but as we crested the summit and headed down to Elbow Fork, I still felt too sick to run down the trail. I didn't even care that we were passed by dozens of runners/pacers.
"Paul gives up his pants for a brother"
I managed to stop at the Elbow Fork outhouse, but still didn't manage to get things functioning. The walk up the Millcreek Canyon Road was slow indeed. But at least it was a paved road. Paul allowed me to close my eyes as I walked, hoping I could catch some snippets of sleep as we progressed. If I veered to one side, Paul would guide my out of harm's way. I don't think I managed any sleep. At this point, two significant, race changing events occurred. One, I thought to myself, I need to say a little prayer for relief. So I did. And two, Paul offered me some sips of his mango yogurt juice. After a few minutes, I started to feel better. I resumed talking again and actually felt my GI tract start moving again. By the time we reached the Big Water Aid Station at the top of Millcreek Canyon, I was feeling remarkably better. I knew at that point that I could continue and stood a good chance of finishing.
At the top of Millcreek (mile 62), it was after midnight when we met my 3rd pacer, Mark Quinn. Paul did the pacer "hand off" on my condition to Mark. I sucked down some warm Top Ramen, cold Coke and the rest of Paul's juice. Paul also gave me his long running pants and fleece cap for the cold section ahead. With that, Mark and I were off into the wilderness. I really enjoyed the next section which was a gradual climb up to Dog Lake in the dark. We didn't see many runners, meaning we managed to stay at about the same position between the runners ahead and behind us. Mark didn't talk as much as Paul. In fact, I think I was talking more than Mark. We both kept a comfortable power walk pace to Dog Lake. We jogged down to Blunder Fork, which is the fork leading up to Desolation Lake. This is a fairly long slog uphill to about 9000'. Even though it was long and dark, it was much better now that I had my stomach back.
We arrived at the Desolation Lake Aid Station before 3:00 AM. This is one of my favorite aid stations. The aid workers pack in all the supplies and build a giant bonfire for weary runners to gather around and rest. I sat down in front of the fire while Mark served me more Top Ramen and cold Coke. I think I was faring better than most of the runners huddled at the fire. It's very tempting to get too comfortable around the fire. There were several pacers coaxing there runners to leave the warmth of the fire and continue into the cold dark night. The runners were less than eager. There were even some runners sound asleep in mummy bags near the fire. Reports had the temperature in the 30's. I'm not sure it was that cold. After about 8 minutes, Mark and I were off on the climb to the ridge.
"3:00 AM Ghost Stories around the Campfire at Desolation Lake"
After a brief bathroom break in some dark trees, we ascended the ridge to the Wasatch Crest Trail. What a fantastic view! You could look behind us and down to see the faint glow of the Desolation Lake campfire we had left behind. You could see the lights of the Salt Lake Valley off in the far distance, and best of all, the stars were brilliant, the Orion constellation in particular, as we made our way along the Crest Trail. We kept a nice pace coming into Scott's Pass Aid station and only stopped for a few brief minutes. At this point (4:30 AM), I called Kathy since I was atop a ridge within cell phone range. She was already up and at 'em, getting ready to pick up my last pacer, Ed Lauder. I informed her that we should arrive at Brighton shortly before 6:00 AM. Mark and I made good time coming down Guardsman Way, even running the last mile or two before hitting the Brighton Road.
"Final Pacer; Ed Lauder to the Rescue"
We arrived at the Brighton Aid Station, Mile 75, at around 5:50 AM. Ed and Kathy arrived about the same time we did. First things first; I jumped on the crude bathroom scale for my weigh-in. It showed I had lost 10 lbs, still barely less than the 7% required to pull me from the race. I then sat down and removed my (Paul's) running pants which required me to remove my shoes. I found that even simple tasks such tying shoes and putting on gaiters are difficult after 75 miles and over 24 hours on my feet. I even had an egg/toast sandwich and a bathroom break at Brighton. Brighton is known as "The Morgue" because many runners choose to call it quits there. I'm not sure why, because I figure, once you've come this far, why not finish? I spent over a half hour at Brighton, more than I should have, before Ed and I were off.
"Preparing for Day 2 at Brighton (mile 75)"
A NEW DAY
It was just starting to get light as we climbed towards Lake Mary above Brighton. WIth Ed being an avid, capable triathlete, I knew I was in good hands for the last 25 miles. As we passed Lake Martha and Catherine we noticed the runners ahead of us had detoured off of the trail. We soon realized that two bull moose were vying for mating rights directly on the trail. We quickly followed the runners example and went off trail. One runner behind us from Virginia thought it would be a good idea to continue on the trail towards the moose. Ed and I yelled to him to get off the trail. We then yelled, "The moose will charge you". He ignored us. When he got within about twenty feet of the moose, one of the moose, lurched around and stared him down. The Virginia runner finally got wise and headed off trail. I stopped to take several pictures of this amazing scene. There's nothing like the sound of moose antlers clashing. Although we lost 5 or 10 minutes with the moose, it was well worth it.
"The Epic Bull Moose Battle above Brighton"
We crested Catherine's Pass and walked past Sunset Peak to the highest point on the course, 10,500'. Now comes a bunch of downhill. Over the next 20 miles, we came to learn why the Wasatch 100 is basically two races; the first 75, and the last 25 - the last 25 being the toughest. There's a 2500' drop into Ant Knoll's Aid Station. A few people passed us on the downhill, as my knees wouldn't allow me to do much more than gingerly tip-toe down the real steep parts. I think this was the last time I saw Andrew until the finish line. His strength is the downhill. At AntKnoll's, Ed and I had a quick pancake and drink and were back on the trail.
"Highest Point on the Trail; 10,500 feet"
We immediately faced a steep 1/2 mile uphill called "The Grunt". Even for me, a strong climber, the Grunt took my breath away. There was one guy who actually passed us on this section. He looked super fresh like he'd just gotten out of bed and a shower. So our guess was he'd done just that- raced ahead to Brighton, caught some shut-eye before finishing his race. What a nice luxury to be that fast.
As we crested the Grunt, I did some mental math and was actually a little bit concerned about finishing in time. So I proceeded to pick up the pace and run. We ran a steady pace along fairly level terrain until the next aid station, Pole Line Pass (mile 83). Upon arriving at the aid station, the aid station director assured me we were doing fine for time. Ed and I were now back in familiar territory having done a practice run on this next section back in August. It has a nice shaded level section and then climbs steadily above Forest Lake. We proceeded at a nice clip up to the high point which provides a beautiful view of Timpanogas. In a short while, we arrived at the Rock Springs Aid Station (mile 87), the second to last aid station. It has a natural spring and all the supplies are packed in by the aid workers. After a quick stop, we were back on our way. The trail proceeds in and out of groves of aspens before turning a corner above Deer Creek Reservoir along some old CCC contour cuts (built in the 1930's to prevent erosion and provide men jobs during the Great Depression).
"Tony and Timp; (mile 81)"
Here the trail becomes seriously unfun for the rest of the way. There's some pretty ruthless downhill (no switchbacks) through dusty, rocky 45 degree terrain. Not good for the knees. To give you an idea, one section is called the Dive and the other the Plunge. You would think in losing all that elevation, you'd be done climbing. Not so. There's several climbs left to go. One is know as the "Seven Hills of Babylon" or "Irv's Torture Chamber". By now it was afternoon and we were in exposed terrain. It was definitely heating up. It was a few days later that Ed informed me that he had actually suffered a mild ankle sprain along this section. He didn't tell me at the time, as not to worry me. He hid it pretty well as we headed down these difficult sections.
"Ed takes the Plunge (mile 85)"
By Mile 90, we were back in uncharted territory, not having done a practice run to the end. It was more downhill to the last aid station, Pot Bottom (mile 93), for a short stop and water refill. We were informed we had 1.5 miles uphill before the final 5.5 miles down to Midway. There was no rush going uphill as it was hot and dusty. And even going downhill, I couldn't take advantage with my knees being toast. Each time we'd reach a clearing and see Midway, it still looked so far down. We finally reached a section above Wasatch State Park Golf Course that was a nice shaded single track. I had done this section on snowshoes last January in a snowshoe race. Even this section seemed longer than I had remembered.
THE FINISH
Finally we broke off the trail onto the road near Wasatch State Park. One mile to go. At this point, I decided two things. One, I was going to beat 35 hours, my projected time, and two, I was going to run the last mile to the finish. With help from Ed, and later from my son Zach, I managed to do both. Let me now describe the last 1/2 mile. As I ran along, I looked up and saw Zach along the road standing there with a video camera. He ran in his sandals with me the last 1/2 mile. Just before the finish, I also saw my running friends Mike Cummings and Dennis Strong. They encouraged me on to the finish at the Homestead. The last 100 yards was across some grass to the finish line. I actually sprinted, not ran, this section across the finish line. What a great feeling! There was Kathy and my Dad and Paul Winterton at the finish to greet me. I finished the Wasatch 100 in 34 hours 50 minutes and 13 seconds. What a relief to be done. The race director congratulated me and gave me a hug. 
"Zach Brings Me Home: Mile 99.5"
I sort of wandered around aimlessly as my family and friends congratulated me. It was only at this point that I realized how bad my feet hurt. I managed to sit down, remove my shoes and see that I had blisters on blisters. But it was all worth it as my family and friends brought me food and drink and even ice to put on my knees. With the help of many great family and friends I had completed my goal of finishing the Wasatch 100!
"Kathy, Tony and Zach at the Finish Line"
Now over a week later, my blisters are pretty much gone. I've actually run about 5 miles and my knees feel great. I can admire my Wasatch 100 plaque and wear my new 100mile belt buckle with pride. But most of all it's fun to tell people how I ran, walked, hiked and crawled 100 miles in under 35 hours through the Wasatch Mountains.
1 comment:
Nice post!!! It's great to be able to hear what you were feeling and thinking during each stage. But I really think I talked more than you did. You were mostly talking in your head.
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