"One Hundred Miles of Heaven and Hell"
My goal for Wasatch was to run it in under 24 hours. Considering that I didn't have the best day out there, I held a relatively consistent pace, was happy with the result, and was able to finish in 22 hours. The course is absolutely amazing, tough, and just plain fun. If there weren't so many other races that I am interested in doing, I would be back at this run every year.
(that's what 22 hours of running will get you)
I started the race in the middle to the end of the pack. It was early and I didn't want to physically force my way up to the front, so I stood towards middle and was funneled into the flow. About a 1/4 mile in I caught up to Davy Crockett, a swell dude. We wished each other luck and I took off. The first section of the trail was wide enough so that I could catch and pass many people. Over the next several miles, up to the first large climb, there was some jostling for positions and I found myself up toward the front. By the time we started climbing, I could see the front runners, but I didn't know who was up there - I could only see headlamps.
The first climb was steep, but not cruel. Thankfully, I was toward the front so I didn't get caught behind any bottlenecks. It was pretty amazing looking back at the pack and seeing the stream of headlamps coming up the mountain. At some point I passed someone with some wizard sticks. At that point I didn't realize it Karl Meltzer, and that Jared Campbell, Tim Parr, and Evan Honeyfield were in front of me. While I thought that I should maybe slow down because they're really freaking fast, I was feeling good. At this point trail was overgrown and I was having trouble seeing the trail and keeping my balance, but it made for a really good time and it didn't slow me down more than anyone else.
The next section, up on the ridge, was fairly uneventful. But it was nice looking west and seeing the valley fill with sun. It was gorgeous. Alpenglow was steadily lighting up the mountains, making for a spectacular morning show. Heading down into Francis Peak was fairly tough, but only because of the atrocious head-wins. For some stouter runners I'm sure it wasn't a problem: I felt like I was being buffeted around. That section didn't last too long and I soon found myself having a lot of fun in the subsequent section, the section to Bountiful B - lots of bush-whacking, getting slightly lost, searching for the trail, etc. It was slow going through this area, but I felt like I was thriving when the trail was overgrown and gnarly.
The section from Bountiful to Swallow Rocks was just awesome. I don't really know how to describe it, other than fast, rolling, ridge running intermixed with crazy steep ascents and descents. Lovely. I was eating well, feeling good, and holding my own. At some point Karl flew past me on a down hill and fell right in front of me - ass over head. I asked if he was alright, he said he was fine. I probably should have stopped to help him up, and in retrospect, I feel bad that I didn't - but he's Karl Meltzer! He can handle his own. And he clearly did so. After the fall, he backed off a bit. And around this time, I passed Troy. But at the Swallow Rocks aid station, both of them passed me and I didn't see either one for the rest of the race. I stopped and asked for some salt capsules (since mine were crammed into a tube and wouldn't come up), and it seemed like it took a very long time. It guess it was because I got passed by Karl and Troy that it felt like a long time.
(Credit: irunfar.com)
The downhill section to Big Mountain went fast and I soon picked up my first pacer, Rick. It was great having him out there to break up the time and have someone to talk to. I was eating well, working on putting down my 17th GU, when I got half of it down and everything that I had eaten at the last aid station came back up. Up to that point, I was fine. My stomach was good, nothing was bothering me, but this portends how the rest of my day was going to go. I couldn't do anymore GUs after that point, which was disappointing. I was hoping to make it until at least mile 65 or 70 before I couldn't stomach gels and not mile 45. But I switched to cliff blocks or whatever those things are and kept eating what I could. I wasn't getting as many calories as I wanted, but I had laid a fairly good foundation early in the race that I was hoping would get me through the bad parts. For the rest of the race, my stomach was extremely sensitive and I could only take down a fraction of the calories that I really wanted to.
Rick and I made it quickly through Alexander Spring, got cooled off, and started heading up the small climb. This section of the course was fairly uninspiring - it just follows a gas pipeline until a turn-off onto some sweet single track. Somewhere along the gas-line we caught Tim, who said he was wiped out from Leadville (I cannot even imagine running another hundred in 3 weeks - so congrats to him for even attempting such a feat). We wished him well and that was, unfortunately, the last we saw him. The run down into Lamb's Canyon was nice and smooth. I don't know what our pace was, but it felt good. At some point, however, the trail just ended. It wasn't marked any more, but there was a road just a few feet to our left. We didn't see markers going left or right and I knew there was a road section here, so we jumped on the road. We hit the aid station and realized we went the wrong way. No one was aware that we were coming in, because we came in from the wrong way. But we got in and out quickly and started hiking up the road. AK, my crew and second pacer, was great at this point - he was like a professional NASCAR pit-stop crew.
(Asking for a new shirt. Rick in the background. Credit: AK)
The section after Lamb's Canyon, after the road section, was fantastic. My spirits were high, the surrounding area was amazing, the trail was steep, and life was good. The climb was great, the descent was even better. The trail spit us out onto some road, which we hiked and ran to Upper Big Water. I decided at this point to no longer sit down at the aid stations (beware the chair). AK, again, was great and we were out of there in no time. The next hike was just as fun as the one coming out of Lamb's. At some point, around mile 65, my calories came up again. Every time I started feeling better, I'd put down more calories and if I put down too much too quickly, it came up. After my purging, Rick started not feeling too well and said that I should continue without him. After expelling my calories, I felt much better, so I took off at a fairly quick pace, and found myself at Desolation Lake. I stopped and said hello, grabbed a few crackers with PBJ and was out of there quickly. On the hike up to the next ridge, I was feeling strong again and my spirits were high. I had been running for around 14 hours, and things were feeling good. The sun was starting to set behind a series of mountains off to my right, which was shrouded in a clouds. The fading sunlight cast a orangish, red glow, highlighting the beauty and majesty of the surrounding mountains.
(AK and me walking out of Mill Creek. Credit: irunfar.com)
There was an aid station at the top of the ridge, I think called Scott's Ridge, followed by a several mile descent into Brighton. After the descent, there is a little uphill section to the Brighton aid station. Since I had never been there, I got a little lost. The markers weren't apparent coming into the town so I flagged down a car and they told me that the aid station was 'probably' at the top of the hill. So I trudged on. When I got into Brighton, it was a bit like Heaven - warm, cheerful, lots of food. But this must be where Wasatch gets it's tag-line, because while it tempting, it is definitely Hell. If you hang out in Brighton too long, you're dead. It is way too nice of an aid station to have at mile 75. I checked in, weighed myself (down 5 1/2 lbs from the beginning, which is pretty normal for me at this point in a race) and went outside while AK filed my backpack with food/water. AK started pacing me at this point, and it was great having him out there.
The hike out of Brighton, which is the highest on the course, didn't seem all that bad. The ascent was tough, but they all were. The altitude wasn't affecting me too much (other than my stomach problems which were probably caused by a multitude of factors), so AK and I plugged on. The descent into Pole Line Pass was nice - they were playing music (the pink panther theme) for all of the runners who came in. Soon after we left, we heard the music playing. I figured that it must be Jared, since I had found out that he was on the chase when I had stopped at Brighton. AK and I didn't spend much time there, figuring we should get the next, "awful" part of the race over.
For those of you who are new to Wasatch, like I was, veterans claim that the last 25 miles are the hardest and "not just because they are the last 25 miles of a hundred." Well, I wouldn't say that is wrong. It is definitely hard, steep, and occasionally brutal. AK asked me whether I preferred going up or down. At this point, it didn't matter. Going up or down hurt. It was nice when there was a change, that it, it was nice to go from a climb to a descent or vice versa, but any prolonged ascent/descent was hard and tiring. The steep descents were made more troubling by the poor condition of the the trails. But that section soon ended.
I was feeling very drained coming into Pot Bottom aid station (mile 93), so I decided to take a seat and eat something. As soon as I sat, Jared came through the aid station. I wished him luck and he was out of there. I was desperately craving watermelon, which they didn't have, but one of the kind volunteers offered me a peach and some orange. I took a few bites of the peach and gave the rest to AK, ate some slices of orange, and we took off. Around this time, I started getting really cold - I started shivering. AK got out a jacket and my gloves for me, which helped greatly, but then I bent over and ejected the fruit that I had put down 50 yards previously. Even though I puked, I felt better.
We continued on. The final downhill was tough. I was tired. The trail was off-camber, there were rocks, pebbles, and all sorts of other challenges that I had contended with for 95 miles. We took it fairly slow, but ran almost all of it. The final section of trail was really nice - it was soft, a little over grown, and a nice downhill pitch. AK wanted to push for a sub-22 pace, but I was mentally fatigued at that part. My goal was sub-24, so a little over or a little under 22 hours didn't make any difference to me. We hit the final stretch. One asphalt covered mile to go. One foot in front of the other.
Soon enough, we were on the grass, running down the homestretch, then it was over. I crossed the finish line, sat down and relaxed. It felt wonderful.
(Crossing the finish line. Credit: irunfar.com)
(Taking a moment to let my parents know I survived. Credit: irunfar.com)
I want to thank all of my friends and family who have been supportive of this crazy goal. My pacers and crew, Rick and AK were absolutely amazing. They kept me motivated and moving. The volunteers and organizers were superlative. This is truly a world-class event that it worth spending some time at. And lastly, I want to congratulate all of the runners who toed the line on Friday morning. This is a hell of a run and whether you finish toward the front or the end, whether you drop out at the first or the last aid station, it takes courage. Congrats to all.