It’s been about a month since the race, but I figured that I don’t really track my daily mileage or weekly averages or anything like that, so I might as well write a bit about the ‘races’ that I participate.
Long-story-short: Dakota Jones, a very young (19 y/o) but talented runner, stole the show. Yep. He beat me. And only by a mere 2 hours.
My ‘race’ was great. No, I was never a contender. I’m just happy to be out there running around, enjoying the scenery, getting some exercise, and all that good stuff. The Fruita Trail Running Festival, of which the 50 mile race is one portion, is a weekend long festival of sorts that takes place on the Western Slope of Colorado. I had never been to Fruita, or the Grand Junction area, so I was totally jazzed to be heading out that way. Let me just say that it met all of my expectations. Whether I go back there to run or something else (the mountain biking looked phenomenal), it is definitely a place I will hopefully visit soon.
My good friend, Dave Chermak, and I headed out to Fruita on Friday afternoon. We stopped in Eagle, CO to pick up my sister, who, I think, figured that she’d tag along because she’d never been to an ultra event and had nothing better to do. Plus, as I’ve mentioned in a previous post, she is training for her first marathon, so I think she wanted to get on the trails and run around a bit. From Boulder, with the stop in Eagle, it probably took us around 6 hours to get to Fruita, which really isn’t all that bad considering the potential snow/rain/generally inclement weather that can strike.
We rolled into Ward (just a few miles from Fruita) and checked into our Motel 6 or Super 8 or whatever it was. Considering it only cost us about $50, which we split, it was a pretty good deal. I mean, when you factor all the costs into traveling to an event, what is another $25 bucks or so? I’m not oppose to camping, but sometimes just getting a room, especially for that cheap, is less work than trying to find a camping spot.
After getting into Ward, we figured we’d forgo tour of Ward and grab some grub. We walked around and eventually landed a place called Pablo’s Pizza. Being originally from Chicago, I like to consider myself somewhat of a pizza connoisseur, and Pablo’s is some good pizza. We had a pizza called “The Love Supreme,” which not only was a fantastic pie, but also pays homage to one of jazz’s greats.
I’m the type of runner that will eat just about anything and feel pretty good the next day. Unfortunately, my pal Dave, is not that type of runner. We chose to do this race because this was the first organized long run he’d ever done so he could run the 25 miler, while I could spend a few more hours out in the sun running 50. (Cut to the next morning…)
We pulled up to the Kokopelli Trailhead (or the area we were starting at to access the trailhead), around 5:25, grabbed our packets, slapped on our numbers, and waited around for the beginning. It wasn’t long before we were heading out on the course. That was the last time I saw Dave, until several hours later. NB – the 50 miler runners were given cloth numbers, which is completely unnecessary, but is a nice touch.
I headed out pretty fast, but definitely not fast enough to be anywhere near the front. The course begins on a flat/small uphill for a little less than a mile, and then starts heading up a several hundred foot climb. I got stuck behind some people that were going a bit slower than I would have liked, but that’s the nature of the single-track run. I felt as though I was passing someone at every opportunity that I had. Then BAM! I must have been following someone too close because before I knew it a rock jumped up and bit me. I didn’t even see it. I spilt half my water, got a few scraps, and banged my shoulder, but all-in-all I was fine. I gathered my things and my pride and scurried on.
The first 25 miles were pretty good. I got to see the sun rise over the Colorado River and the canyons that we were running through – it was a sight to see.
At mile 19, the last aid station before turning around, my sister handed me my hat, which I am still very thankful for. It probably wasn’t much later than 9, but the sun was already out and starting to bake everything it touched. Somewhere around mile 23 or so I saw Dakota huffing his way over a rock coming toward me. He looked like he was feeling tired, but that could be because he was scrambling over a rock. Regardless, he was looking a lot stronger than I was feeling. On my way down to the midway point, I saw my good friend Rick Weismiller heading up a hill toward me. I knew that he was heading out to see the race, but I hadn’t heard from him and I thought the chances of actually seeing on the course were pretty slim. I talked with him for a second, he asked if I needed anything, but I declined since I was so close to the halfway point. I think I finished the first 25 a bit over 4 hours.
The second 25 miles seemed to go by faster than the first, but maybe that’s just because I had more to think about then. Within the first 3 or 4 miles, I crossed paths with Dave, who Rick had run into. Dave finished his first 25 mile trail race in 5:17, which was a great job. He got first place (in the 75th spot, or 2nd place in 74th spot)!! Irrespective of place or time, he had a good time. That, in my book, means it was a success.
When I bumped into them, I kept running in my direction. About a ½ mile later, Rick caught up to me and we talked for a little while. It’s always nice to talk with someone out on the course. He stayed at the next aid station and I trudged on. Around mile 32 or so, I started to feel pretty bad. Between the first and second aid station there was a 7 mile stretch (I think), and my single water bottle didn’t seem to be enough at that point. I got into the 2nd aid station and felt pretty crappy. Thankfully the volunteers were wonderful and got me everything I needed so I could head back out on the course. The only complaint about the aid stations was that they didn’t have anything sugary enough – they had m&ms and some soda, but I wanted some shot blocks or something. I don’t know why, but I was really craving something sugary. Oh well. Onwards and upwards…
I got to the 4th aid station and was feeling pretty good. I chatted a bit with the volunteers, and got out of the sun for a few minutes. Then headed out. Somewhere between the 4th and the 5th aid station I encountered a fellow runner who was running in the opposite direction. He was very upset and worried that he had missed a turn because there weren’t any markers. I wasn’t too worried, and his stressed-outedness was decreasing my enjoyment so I just kept running. As stressed as he was, he was also right. We weren’t on the trail. So, we added a few extra miles – but it was a nice day. I guess I got a few extra for free!
Eventually, we took a path over a ridge, and spotted the 5th aid station. We made it there, albeit on a slightly different route. He complained about some ginger ale not being made with real ginger and trotted off. I chatted with the guy and the gal who were there. I later found out that the lady volunteer was none other than Anita Ortiz (last years WS’s winner).
I followed my stressed-out, complaining friend for a bit, but he powered away up the last hill. I found him near the top feeling pretty crappy. I gave him my last electrolyte cap and wished him luck. I reached the top of the last hill and was feeling great, so I decided to really push it. I was flying down the hill when I came across a few mountain bikers, who appeared to be doing more walking than biking. Although I knew better, I looked up at them for a minute and lost focus of my footing and tumbled down (no jumping rock this time – it was all runner’s error). Fortunately, my pride was hurt a bit more than anything else, but I did land on my shoulder again, which is still a bit tight.
Anyway, I pushed on and was almost all the way down, when I kicked a rock. I didn’t think too much of it even though it really hurt because I was so close to the end. I crossed the finish line in 9:16, a PR for me, which is always nice. The course was beautiful, the weather was perfect, the volunteers were helpful, knowledgeable and friendly. It got a bit warm on the second lap, but that’s to be expected. And apparently, I whacked my foot against that rock much harder than I thought because it swelled, bruised, and hurt for several weeks. It continues to be stiff, but there isn’t any pain.
It was a great race, and I hope it will prove to be good training for the San Juan Solstice 50, which is just around the bend. If you’re thinking about doing a trail race, the Fruita Trail Festival is a good place to start. Dave had a good time doing the 25, aside from having some stomach troubles that he attributed to eating the love supreme pizza, and I really enjoyed the course. Next race report: San Juan 50.