Round and Round

These last few weeks it seems as though I've been watching more running than actually doing it. My son started doing cross-country this year and I take him to practice several times a week as well as running 3 to 4 miles with him on some of the days when he doesn't have practice. This was all leading up to the State meet on November 3rd. He had done two races on the same course prior to the State meet with times of 14:57 and 14:37 for 3km (1.8 miles). He trained hard leading up to the big day and it paid off for a time of 13:47, good enough for 9th place and a trip to Regionals on the 17th at the same venue. Of course I'm super proud of him because he's giving it his best effort and having a good time. He races in the Midget category for 11-12 year olds and is one of the youngest in his category since he just turned 11 at the end of September.
So one day we were out on a training run around Sugarhouse park when he mentioned that he would like to try running a mile on the track. We ran a loop around the park for a warm-up then broke off down to the Highland High track to attempt a 7 minute mile. We started out running the right pace but after one time around he developed a bad side cramp and had to stop. Too late, the damage was done because during that first lap my mind started drifting back to some unfinished business I have with the track, a sub 5 minute mile. Back in the day I used to run the mile and my fastest time was 5:19 when I was a freshman in high school. Two years ago when I started running again I tried again, without any speedwork in my legs and clocked a 5:21. So made up my mind, today was the day I would break a sub 5 mile.
My son watched anxiously as I took off from the start line in a dead run aiming for a 37 second 200 meter split. I hit the 200 meter mark and alarm bells went off when I looked down at my watch, 33 seconds! I had started out to fast and everyone knows that can be the death nail to a good time. The next split was 38 secs, so I was still 3 secs to the good. But then the fatigue started to set in, which is an entirely different type of fatigue that comes from running for hours on end. My splits continued to slow and I eventually finished in 5:23. The steely taste of lactic acid filled my mouth and my chest was heaving from my lungs trying to get enough oxygen. I hadn't pushed my anaerobic limit that hard since I was racing bikes.
It was clear that if I was going to trim another 24 seconds off that effort I would have to do some work. So that's what I did last night while my son had cross-country practice. I headed over to the track after a 2 mile warm-up and did 200 meter repeats. I did eight of them at 35 seconds with 1:30 rest. The strange thing was that the intervals didn't hurt, in fact they actually felt kind of good. I finished by jogging over to cross-country practice where I found the team doing hill repeats. I should qualify the team before I continue as they are made up of kids from the age of 10 all the way through juniors in high school. When I show up the coach says "are you going to join them for some hill repeats?". Oh why not, I can hang for some hills, even if I did just do 200 meter repeats at the track. I decided to start a few steps behind the oldest boys and try to hold their pace. The first couple went fine, but then it felt like they were speeding up trying to put the hurt on the old man. After the fourth one I decided I would really dig and at least finish even with them. I couldn't do it. I dug deep but the well was dry. I had punched all my fun tickets for the night. After this I joined them for a mile and a half cool down around the park that no doubt saved my legs from a considerable amount of delayed onset muscle fatigue (fancy term for sore muscles the next day).
I think that doing some speedwork will be a good change for my legs and will hopefully get me past that sub 5 barrier.

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Recovery Mode

I've been taking it easy lately running when I feel like it and the weather is decent. I tried getting out for some mountain bike rides but the weather hasn't really cooperated. Last Saturday I met up with a few members of the MRC for a pre-dawn run up Mt. Wire and down George's Hollow. The morning was very dark because it was so cloudy and it felt like it would start raining any minute. The south side of Wire is quite steep, similar to the west side of Grandeur, the route follows a ridgeline for much of the ascent. After we made it to the top we hung around for a few minutes looking at the city lights, then out of the darkness a figure approached us from the same side we just came up. He wasn't wearing a headlamp but he did have a large pack on his back. Not a backpack necessarily but more like a bean bag size form on his back. Turns out he was a paraglider. We were stunned to see this guy so close on our heels, because we thought we were making good time. We all agreed that he must have taken a different way in order to save our egos.

Sunday I decided to conduct a little experiment and see how long I could run without food. Alright, it didn't exactly start that way, but I felt so good and I couldn't resist just one more summit. Three hours after I started I made it back to the car, not necessarily in a serious bonk but my stomach was making itself heard loud and clear. I really should have taken the mountain bike out but I thought the trails might be muddy with the recent precipitation we've had. Turns out the trails were in perfect riding condition.

I had another interesting development this week. As I believe I mentioned before I used to be a bike racer before I started this running thing. The last few years I was racing I started promoting a bike called Hell of the North in North Salt Lake near the airport. It's really not my type of race because it's dead flat and goes over a five mile circuit multiple times (depending on category). The one interesting part of the circuit is that it includes 1.75 miles of dirt/gravel road that racers pass over each time around. The other element to deal with is the weather since the date is usually the first or second weekend in April. The race is part of a season long points series for the Utah Cycling Association, a local governing body for cycling. At the end of each season the UCA takes suggestions from cycling clubs/riders for bylaw changes, then they are put to a vote at the November meeting, the idea being that the local cycling scene is improved upon from season to season. Now back to my original development, seems as though someone doesn't like the race I put on, as they put up a bylaw that would not allow races with dirt/gravel roads to be part of the UCA points series. There's no doubt that if the bylaw passed I would lose riders, but probably not that many. As it turns out I don't think I have anything to worry about as you can read here.
When I think about this kind of thing in relation to trail running it makes me laugh. I've heard far more complaints about ultra courses being to easy rather than complaints about their difficulty. Perhaps that is why I've come to like ultra's so much. Each runner is in a competition against the course and the clock, the harder the course the more rewarding the finish is, no matter what place you take.

2007 Bear 100 Race Report

Redemption! I can't express how happy I am that I didn't have to wait a whole year to avenge my dnf at Wasatch. I had trained hard all year long to complete my first 100 miler and I only made it 48 miles. My stomach malfunctioned while everything else felt fine. I went for a long run the following Saturday on a pretty tough route and when I was done I my legs were feeling well enough to do the Bear. I called my good friend and training partner Peter and asked him to talk me out of doing it, still thinking it might not be the best idea and his reply was "do you need a pacer?" That sealed the deal and I signed up. I was still hesitant since I had never been on any of the trails and wouldn't have a crew but in the end it didn't matter.

The short report: I ran conservatively the first half, had a small stomach issue at mile 49 and fixed it at mile 53. Ran/shuffled/hiked the next 40 miles with the world's best pacer, my good friend Peter, then ran the last 7 miles all the way to the finish for a time of 27:32, good for 17th place. If you want the longer version keep reading.

I hitched a ride to the start with Wasatch Speedgoat Scott Mason and on the way we discussed a number of things one of them being my dnf at wasatch. I revealed that I had decided to try perpetuem in an effort to get a few more calories during the race and that's when I learned that it doesn't necessarily work for everyone. I decided to remove the mix from all of my bottles and drop bags and go with gatorade instead. This proved to be a good move. We arrived at Leland's (RD) trout farm a bit early, picked up our race packs, left our drop bags and headed off to the start. On our way up Cub River canyon, just outside Preston Idaho, we noticed some smoke coming from the hillside and soon realized that part of the course was going to wind it's way through this burnt area. Come to find out it was a controlled burn, that had now been going on for 2 weeks (at what point is it no longer a controlled burn?). We grabbed some excellent grub from the Deer Creek Inn then I retired to my tent located a few yards from the start to get some shut eye. I slept surprisingly well and woke up at 5am ready to begin this 100 mile adventure.
The 6am start came soon enough and I was feeling anxious to get going. 88 runners set off up the dirt road and after a few minutes of running in the dark I could hear strange sounds coming from the side of the road. It was a large herd of cattle and we had a apparently startled them enough that they started running parallel to us. There was one problem with that, we eventually had to make a right turn that would cut in front of them. Sure enough we made the right and just in front of me I saw Ken Jensen speed up to avoid a close encounter with a cow. Ken and I joked about it as we made our way up the singletrack on a climb. I was with Ken for the first few miles but after he stopped for a nature break I was in no-mans-land running through the burned area we had seen the day before. In the distance I could still make out a headlamp and followed it right when I should have gone left. I only ended up going about a half mile out in the wrong direction and decided there was no way I would let it stress me out this early on. Once I got back on the right trail I started reeling in runners on my way to the first aid station. I made a quick stop, filled my bottles and headed out.

Now the sun was coming out and the brilliant fall colors were amazing. The stunning views really made the miles fly by. This next section included the biggest climb of the day and I eventually caught up to Tim Seminoff and The Rocket. They had a very comfortable pace going and I settled in behind them learning a great deal along the way from these two veterans of the sport. We hit the top of the climb and began a long descent to the next aid. The miles just seem to kind of blur together through here until I reach the Danish Pass aid station for the second time at mile 42. I was a bit hungry and decided to eat half a boiled potato and half a banana. About a half an hour or so after this my stomach started to feel a little tight so I slowed my pace down, I think I just ate to much at one time.

The next aid station was just plain cruel as we had to do an out and back to Bloomington lake that included a descent on the way out and of course a steep climb on the way back. After climbing out and getting back on the main trail I popped an electrolyte capsule. Ten minutes later my stomach erupted and I instantly felt better. About that same time Scott came by and suggested I slow down and keep drinking my water. I knew all I had to do was make it to the next aid station where Peter was meeting me and I would be fine. I definitely fought off some negative thoughts through this section as my mind would drift back to three weeks prior when I was reduced to a stumble. By the time I made it to Paris aid station at mile 53 Peter already knew what had happened. He proceeded to sit me down and have me drink some broth, after that I drank some more and before I knew it we were off with all of our lights as the sun was starting to set. I had spent 33 minutes at Paris, which was way longer than I had intended, but it was time well spent getting my stomach back in order.

The next section is one that we would repeat between mile 82 and 90 in the opposite direction. It is also one of the longest sections between aid stations at 8 miles. I took my time making sure I didn't upset my stomach again and after a couple of miles I was able to run again, especially the descents. I was now in unchartered territory, having never run this far before. But that really isn't what consumed my thoughts, it was the threat of the snowstorm that had been predicted to hit by 11pm. I only mentioned it in hushed tones to Peter in fear of jinxing our perfect weather day up to that point. Slowly my energy was returning and before we made it to Dry Fork aid station we saw a headlight coming toward us. It was the other Wasatchspeedgoat, Karl Meltzer, on his way back already. He was 22 miles ahead of me and moving at a very good clip going uphill. He would go on to break the record by over an hour, finishing in 18hrs 50mins, simply incredible!
I made a short stop at the Dry Basin aid station while Peter and I gathered supplies out of my drop bag. The legendary Roch Horton runs this aid station and he has experience on this course so I asked him how technical the climb was after the next aid station, Millcreek, because it looked awful on the profile chart. Not bad at all he replied. As I would find out later I should have asked him how steep the climbs were instead.

I made good progress through this next section to Millcreek aid station and Peter recognized the fact that I was making a good pace and wisely hurried me through. This next section is known as the roller coaster because it is up and down, with a net elevation gain. Some of the climbs were horrifically steep, but I was able to keep moving, even if it was very slow. As we approached the next aid station Peter commented that it was the 75 mile mark. That made me feel good and motivated me to keep my pace up. Again my stay was brief, although I did sit down this time to remove some debris from my shoe.
The next aid station seemed to appear rather quickly and I was anxious to keep moving through there since I felt good and the weather was still holding. I knew that if it started to rain or snow our progress would be significantly slower. Next up was the Dry Basin aid station again. I was happy to reach this milestone but at the same time I knew we had a long 8 miles ahead of us back to the Paris aid station. As we pulled in to the aid station I noticed some empty seats around very inviting fire. Roch saw me standing there and pulled a chair back for me a little bit, but I said no thanks, that looks like stepping inside the Brighton lodge at Wasatch. He knew what I meant so instead of sitting down I grabbed another cup of broth and left while Peter was still gathering supplies.

The 8 mile section that I was now on would prove to be the hardest of the race for me. I had some real low energy cycles during this stretch. I was still able to run the descents but there just weren't that many as we were mostly climbing back to Paris. One of the tactics I employed to catch a breather on some of the climbs was to take a nature break. Thankfully I was staying hydrated enough to make this work. Peter informed me that I was now about 30 minutes ahead of my schedule to break 29 hours and told me I should start thinking about going under 28. It was a good confidence booster but it certainly didn't make this section any easier. At one point Peter told me he though this might be the last climb and I laughed out loud claiming he had no idea whether it was the last climb or not since he hadn't been on the course either. It did help me realize that it didn't matter if there were two or five more climbs ahead of me, I just had to keep moving forward.

About an hour before reaching the Paris aid station as the sun was coming up, a big cloud rolled over the ridge line and before we knew it we were running through fog and snowflakes. It was quite a surreal experience, most likely enhanced by the fact that I had now been up for over 24 hours straight. The cloud moved so incredibly fast that it looked like a time-lapse film happening before my eyes. Shortly after this we hit the last descent that led us to the Paris aid station at mile 90. I made a quick stop, filling my bottles before heading out to the dirt road that would take me down to the last aid station just 3 miles away. As we approached the crest of the pass we could see only the tops of the mountains surrounding us. A cloud had moved in hiding the valley below, it was truly an awesome sight to behold. Just then a sudden wave of elation overcame me and I hopped in the air while throwing my arms above my head. I realized I was going to make it! Peter decided to capitalize on my mood and encouraged me to run. I started with a shuffle and after a few minutes something happened, I wanted to run. So I started jogging and before I knew it I was in full stride leaving Peter behind. I ran into the next aid station filled my bottle and said goodbye just as Peter arrived. He had parked his car at this aid station and we had decided earlier that it would be easier for him to just drive down rather than run with me and try to find a ride back up from the finish.

I now had 7 miles to go, 2 to 3 of which are along Leland's Ledge or the Devil's Den. This is a notoriously tough section that includes small rock scrambles, and downed trees all on a side hill with poor traction. It's not exactly what I wanted to see with 93 miles in my legs, but it felt good to get some trail diversity and kept me mentally sharp. Eventually I made it back on to normal trail and started striding it out once again. I couldn't believe how good I felt. I'm sure I was only running 8 minute miles at best, but it sure felt like sub 6's.

Once the guest ranch came into view where the finish line was located my pace increased even more and I couldn't even feel my feet striking the ground. Peter was there giving me a big cheer along with Karl and Cheryl. I was instructed to make a left around some cars where I saw Leland (who had run the race as well placing 2nd in 20:54) sitting in a chair with a watch and I came to a stop directly in front of him. He calmly looked up and said you haven't crossed the finish line, which was apparently a small banner just a couple of feet away. This made me laugh, then I jumped across the line to stop the clock at 27 hours 32 minutes. It was a low key ending to a low key race and I felt great! In fact it is the best I have felt after any ultra that I've done so far.

Thanks to the volunteers that kept us going at the aid stations, and to Leland, Errol and Phil for putting on such a great race. Special thanks to my good friend Peter for pacing me through the night, he knew exactly what to do and what to say in order to keep me moving. Running with a friend is always fun. My family deserves a thank you as well, without their support and encouragement I wouldn't even try. Now for some time off...

The Wasatch that wasn't

I trained, I raced and I planned, but it wasn't in the cards.
From the start I kept a conservative pace hitting my pace goal to the first aid station at 18 miles, right on the nose in 4 hours even. I was well hydrated which was evident by my frequent nature breaks and my legs felt great. I pushed the pace a bit through unfamiliar territory between Francis Aid and Bountiful B and continued through to Sessions. By this time I was actually a bit ahead of my goal pace but falling behind with my hydration. Rather than slowing way down I just backed off a bit and continued on through Swallow Rocks aid station, taking my time to enjoy a popsicle as I left. I still pressed on with my steady pace until I reached Big Mountain Aid at mile 40. My stomach was not feeling well and nothing sounded good. In hindsight I should have stayed here until I felt better, but I decided to continue on with my pacer Jesse and fix it on the trail. Immediately after leaving the aid station I emptied my stomach contents on the side of the trail. Of course I felt better immediately afterwards and started sipping water. Forty five minutes later I threw up again. This pattern repeated itself until there was nothing left to come up. I decided before I got to Alexander Ridge Aid that I was not going to continue. I couldn't even walk for more than ten minutes at a time without having to sit down. I felt horrible. Later that night I was able to hold down some broth but my weight was down nearly 10lbs from the morning.
Lessons learned:

• Just because you feel good doesn't mean you can forget about taking care of yourself.
• Racing 50 miles is only 1/2 of 100.
• Take care of issues right away, they only get worse with time and mileage.
• The dry wind can dehydrate you very quickly.

The feelings that come with a DNF are not easy to shake, but I'm determined to figure this out and finish a 100 miler.

Devils Backbone 50 miler 2007

Wow, that is a race that I won't soon forget. Without a doubt the most scenic race I've done yet as well as the highest in elevation.

Back at the end of 2006, after I had sent my entry/lottery ticket in for the Wasatch 100, I started to plan my season. I had the first part of the season figured out but I was looking for a tough 50 miler after Squaw Peak that would still leave me enough time to focus on training for Wasatch. Then I found the race listing "Devils Backbone 50: This is a graduate level run (yes, like Hardrock). It is almost unsupported and unmarked. This CANNOT be your first 50 miler. This course is much, much harder than you expect". After a few moments to consider where it fit in the schedule, I hit the link and signed up.

Cutting edge technology, the hand drawn map

My morning started with a 3:45 am wake up so I could leave the hotel by 4:15 and make it to the start line by 5 am. I noticed as I stepped out of the hotel that felt a bit humid and as I looked skyward I didn't see any stars. Soon after my wife and I started driving to the trailhead the rain began to fall and I could see lightening in the distance. It was all very ominous, driving somewhere I'd never been and running on an unmarked trail I hadn't seen before. The rain just added to the effect. On the way there my wife said, "maybe some of the runners won't show up because it's raining", I just laughed and replied, "you don't know ultrarunners very well yet". Sure enough we pulled in to the parking lot at the trailhead with many cars and saw all the runners getting ready for day's adventure.

Profile of the course.

The course starts in Hyalite Canyon, just south of Bozeman Montana. The race begins by climbing 3500' over the first seven miles and stays above 9000' for the remainder of the race. It's an out and back with about 8000' feet of climbing on the way out and another 4500' on the way back. The two unique features of this race are that it's unmarked, save for cairns (stacks of rocks) placed in confusing areas, and has only one aid station at the halfway point. On the way out we were to bag a peak and pick up a poker chip to prove we were there before continuing the route along the length of the Gallatin divide ridgeline (or a certain someone's backbone).

A view along the ridge (borrowed pic)

The rain subsided just in time for the start. After climbing up through the canyon and a beautiful cirque I finally made the summit after about one hour and forty minutes. As I grabbed my poker chip I looked back down the trail to see the next runner, Erich who I had met at the start line, was just a minute or two behind me. I took a moment to look around at the canyons and valleys that stretched out below and turned in to more ridgelines topped with dark clouds lit up by lightening strikes, it was pretty incredible. After adjusting my shoe Erich and I headed down off the peak together in the lead. Eric is from Bozeman and while he hadn't done the race he had been on the ridge for training. I was happy to have someone that knew the trail and was running the same pace as I was. The whole time we were running on the way out I kept feeling like we were being conservative, but every time I turned around I couldn't see anybody coming. I knew this was good as I usually go out to hard and tend to struggle in the last third of the race. The clouds hung around keeping the temperature comfortable and there was a breeze that would sometimes turn in to a gale force wind.

After about 4 hours and 45 minutes we made it to the lone aid station to be greeted by race director Tom Hayes and a few of his great volunteers. You see, even the aid station is a bit remote, located a tough two miles from the trailhead. That means drop bags and supplies were carried to the spot where we were now standing. They had us in and out within minutes fully stocked with supplies.

As Erich and I left the aid station the clouds parted and the sun started to heat things up. I was still feeling good and decided to push a bit on the climb out of the aid station. After a few miles I was alone in the lead. This was a mistake because soon I started to push harder than I needed to, underestimating how tough the return trip was going to be. With about 10 miles to go I could feel the effects of my effort and I started to slow down. It became very hard to eat anything, which is always a bad sign. I knew that if I could just make it to the six mile long descent I would still have a chance and it would be cooler in the shaded canyon. As I approached the descent I looked over my shoulder back along the ridge and I couldn't see anyone, I estimated my lead to be around 30 to 40 minutes.

I took a moment to look down the canyon and cirque I was about to drop into when the nausea struck. I proceeded to throw up, which initially made me feel better, then as I started to run I felt the nausea return. This pattern repeated itself four times on the way down. Every time I would start to run I would feel sick. I was reduced to a walk for much of the descent and getting dizzy from the lack of food. I knew I would make it I just didn't know what place I would take.

With about 1.5 miles to go I heard footsteps from behind and saw Rob, who had been running in 3rd much of the day. I told him congratulations, you're now in the lead! He was very nice and wanted to know if I was alright before he continued on down the trail. Now I just wanted to get to the finish line and sit down. A few minutes passed before I heard more footsteps and this time it was Erich. He slowed down long enough to convince that I could run to the finish, and we ran together the final 1/2 mile crossing the line for 2nd place. See all the results and the newspaper article.

Erich (L) and I running in to the finish.

That was an epic! I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a tough ultra.

L-R, Erich, myself, Rob (winner)

Squaw Peak 50 2007

Well, I have finally started feeling normal after last Saturday's adventure. It was a bit more painful than I remember from last years' edition, but that probably had something to do with the a) increased Hell like temperatures, b) the throbbing knee that plagued the last 8 hours and c) the golf ball size blister on the ball of my foot.
Both B and C were pretty much self induced but the temperature was out of control. Just to make sure it felt extra, extra hot, the powers that be made sure that there was no wind whatsoever. I knew it was going to be warmer than last year but I really wasn't acclimated to run in the oppressing heat that usually waits to show up until mid-July and August in these parts.
Since the knee had started giving me trouble in the 3 weeks leading up to the race I decided to back off the training and go in to the race without pain. That strategy worked, but my fitness took a hit because of the reduced training. I decided to stick with my original goal pace of sub 9 hours for as long as I could then just see what happened. Something certainly happened and I can tell you it wasn't pretty.
I ran the first 2 hours pain free, but after the 7 mile descent to Hobble Creek road I could feel my knee and a small burning sensation on my right foot. Leland Barker had just run past before we hit aid station 5 and that put me in 7th position by the time we hit the road. Leland took off when we hit the pavement and I tried my best to stay close but he was flat out movin'. I reached aid station 6 about 15 minutes behind schedule but I tried to remain positive. This is the section where I really started feeling the heat. I started being a bit more conservative knowing what was ahead but I wasn't drinking enough. Despite slowing down I didn't get passed until just before starting the climb to Windy Pass. The climb was slow, I had a long list of excuses why, but I'm mostly blaming it on the heat. Once I reached the aid station I sat down and Jim Skaggs helped me take care of the troublesome blister on my right foot. I took off on the 7 mile descent to the last aid station and the knee objected to that idea. I finally took my first dose of ibuprofen about halfway down in an effort to keep it quiet but at this point it no longer mattered. I have really worked hard on my downhill running skills since last year and I now consider it one of my strengths, so I think that's why I was so frustrated.
I hit the final 3 mile section of pavement with Justin Snow and made an effort to run to the last section and finish under 10 hours. The first mile went ok, but then I started feeling dizzy and I had to walk. I made it up to Rich and again tried to run but it wasn't happening. Every time I started to run I thought I might faint. I'm sure this is because I was so dehydrated but it was still frustrating. I finally made it in 10:07 which was good for 19th overall. I improved my time from last year by a little over an hour and given the circumstances I was running with I'm satisfied with that effort.
Kevin Schilling took a convincing win in front last year's winner Allen Belshaw followed by Erik Storheim in third. Birgitta Johnson finished first for the women, followed closely by Liz Irvine in second. Nancy Hendrickson rounded out the podium in third. I met all three of them just a couple weeks prior while doing trail crew for the Wasatch 100. My good friend Peter was on pace to beat his time from last year when he went off course with about 5 miles to go. Seems as though somebody started removing the flagging on the trail. No matter he still finished strong and beat his time from last year. More results here.
Next up is the Wahsatch Steeplechase on the 23rd, I'm not sure whether I'll do it or not, that will depend on the knee and how quickly it heals. After that is the Devil's Backbone 50 miler in Bozeman MT, 50 miles, one aid station, 100% trail, should be a good time.

SLC's Real Marathon

Which Leg Beater?
There were two marathons taking place on 4/21 in SLC. One where you could pound the pavement for 26 miles and lose a few hundred feet of elevation, surrounded by a 1,000 people. Or the real marathon where you could dance on the trails above SLC, take in roughly 6,500' vertical with stunning views of the Wasatch front while being surrounded by your friends. I chose the latter.
This is a local "club run" where the competitors don't wear numbers and don't pay an entry fee. Last year it dumped about 2' of fresh snow the Thursday before, then warmed considerably by Saturday. Let's just say it produced an epic day. Usually the winning times are in the low 4 hour range, but on that nasty day the winning time was just under 5 hours. This time around the weather was slightly better only sprinkling the hills with about 6 inches of snow on Wednesday and by Saturday the trail was in perfect condition.
Sam, Peter and I arrived at the start, chatted with friends, and got our stuff ready. Karl was there, fresh off his win and course record at McNaughton 100 miler the week before, supporting Cheryl and her first attempt at this marathon. 8am approached and the race director gave a detailed description of the course, consisting of "go do a ten mile loop over there then a sixteen mile loop over there, ready set go". I had decided that I wasn't going to get stuck in the middle this year so I went out with the leaders and settled in to a comfortable pace. by the time we were midway up the first climb it was Brian, Chuck (who was only doing the first loop), Kevin (who had just run Boston the Monday before!) and myself. It was really nice to run with these guys as we chatted and the miles just flew by. We completed the first loop in about 1 hour 44 minutes, which was about 20 minutes faster than anything I had done in training. I had a goal of finishing under 4 hours 30 minutes and this put me on pace to accomplish that. As we left the aid station/starting area it immediately starts climbing back up and I quickly realized that I was going to have to slow down a bit if I wanted to reach my goal. Kevin and Brian went on ahead and I noticed that there was a guy closing on me from behind. He eventually caught me before the next aid station at about mile 17 and put some distance between us. At this point I just focused on my time goal and resigned myself to hold on to my current 4th position.
After the final aid station the course overlaps itself a bit and this is where I saw Karl and Cheryl running together. I shouted some words of encouragement and looked down at my watch as I started my way up the final canyon and it read 3:34. This was about 4 minutes slower than what I had set as goal at this point but I was happy none the less. The canyon climbs gradually for about 1 1/2 miles where you then leave the trail and hit a beast of a climb I affectionately call Uncle F#@ker. I cannot claim that I named it, that credit goes to my good friend Leo, but I can say I have a better understanding why it has that name. You see, not only is it appallingly steep, but it has about 3 false summits kind of teasing you like a mean Uncle. My mantra on this climb has become "just keep moving". Just after I left the main trail I found the guy that had passed me earlier and he didn't look particularly well. We chatted for a bit and I found out his name was Elliot and he had never done this course before. I offered him some food which he declined, then we started climbing my favorite Uncle. I kept running my mantra through my head trying not to look up at the false summits. After about 20 minutes I glanced back and noticed that Elliot was a fare way back, being overtaken by someone else in a red shirt. Now I looked at the top and focused on getting there without falling apart. Once I gained the summit I started down the 4 mile rocky ridge that leads to the finish. I glanced back a few times to make sure that red shirt wasn't gaining on me and I couldn't see him. I was still pushing for my time goal and I knew it would be close. I made my way down through the parking area and headed to the finish line at the RD's house. I hit the driveway in 4:34, 4 minutes off my goal. No matter, it was great day in the hills running around with friends. Kevin ended up coming in ahead of Brian who suffered from a golf ball size blister on his heel for the final descent. After I arrived Leland came in, then a few others I didn't know followed by Peter then Sam. I was a little puzzled when I saw Karl coming in by himself a short time later but realized what was going on when he pulled out the camera to get some finish line pictures of Cheryl. Congratulations to all that finished the real marathon in Salt Lake, see you next year!