iRunFar

Booty Found: Mountain Hardwear Pacer Advance Short Review by Meghan Hicks

2009-11-20T06:00:00.049-05:00

[iRunFar in-house gear tester Meghan Hicks was kind enough to provide the following review.]

If you’ve been a runner for a while, you’ve likely become accustomed to wearing traditional, elastic waisted nylon running shorts. Over the years, you may have sampled the models of multiple manufacturers, settling on your favorite. Now you own ten pairs of those shorts, probably in each color of the maker’s production palette. If this sounds like you, then you might be stuck in a running short rut. About six months ago, I was stuck in the same place! No new running short model caught my eye enough to deviate from tradition until I met the Mountain Hardwear Pacer Advance Short, or what I’ve come to call the “booty” short. Let me introduce the short that will break your running short rut in more ways than one.

Mountain Hardwear's Pacer Advance Short in Black.
(The short is also available in Blue River, Chica (salmony), and Titanium.)

Almost every element of the Pacer Advance Short is unique; let’s start from the top. First, the waistband is wide, fitted, and made of a material that feels like a wicking jersey knit. Hidden in the waistband is a drawstring if you need to put the cinch down. The shorts sit low on your hips, the drawstring falling at your hip bones. (Countless women, including me, have folded over the waistbands of our favored running shorts so they sit in this very same sweet spot!) These low riders don’t overlap with hydration/running packs, thus reducing the chance of chafing. Finally, three small, hidden, fold-over pockets are built into the back waistband and are perfect for gels or a small pair of gloves.

The outer short is composed of a thin nylon/elastine/polyester interbreed, and the result is a genetic freak of soft, stretchy, wicking goodness. Because of the stretch factor and the addition of side seam slits that provide for any movement a runner might make, the shorts take a narrow line against the thighs. These aren’t compression shorts, but they do hover nearby your skin. On the right hip lies a small, angled, zipper pocket. If you’ve got something important like your car key, iPod, or a fiver for coffee afterward, this is the place to keep it. The inner brief has a nice cut that hugs itself gently into the crease between your butt and your thigh enough to stay there, but not so much as to let others know where that crease precisely is.

There’s only one change I’d like to see in the Pacer Advance Short: the drawstring is way too short! While my shorts fit nicely everywhere else, I can only get a small, unsupportive tie in the string. As a result, it’s dangerous for me to fill the back pockets with more than 3 gels lest I leave my drawers on the trail. With a longer drawstring, I could make a pants-saving cinch.

You’re probably still wondering why I’ve coined these the “booty” shorts. Think for a moment about your favorite pair of nylon running shorts: there is ample fabric everywhere that emerges from the elastic waistband. Running shorts nylon isn’t traditionally stretchy, so short makers add enough fabric for runners to move their legs within said shorts. By using a nylon/elastine interbreed, Mountain Hardwear removes this bulk and a runner’s range of motion is accommodated not by more material, but by stretching. Because of this, there is no booty hiding here; the treasured results of your hard training are well displayed in the Pacer Advance Short.

MH running in her MH Pacer Advance "Booty" Shorts through Zion National Park

So, break out from your running short rut and pirate yourself a pair of Mountain Hardwear’s Pacer Advance Shorts. You (and the people you pass on trail) will be glad you did.

[Trail Goat Note: I've been wearing Mountain Hardwear's similar, but not equivalent for men's Refueler Short. [The Refueler Advance is the direct equivalent. The non-"Advance" has a more traditional waist band.] I normally prefer traditional split-side road running shorts to longer trail options, but I've been enjoying my runs in the Refueler.]

[Disclosure: Mountain Hardwear provided a free sample pair of both the women's Pacer Advance Short and men's Refueler Short. Also, links to Amazon in this post are part of an affiliate program that helps support iRunFar.com.]

JFK Preview on This Week In Running (Week of 11/21 & 11/22)

2009-11-18T06:00:00.002-05:00

In our last installment of TWIR before Thanksgiving (yes, we will be so busy preparing the turkey next Wednesday that we won't be able to grace you with a Thanksgiving edition of TWIR), we could fill you in about the Cardiac Endurance Trail Run (50 mile, 50k and 25k) in Warda, Texas. Or, we could detail the Santa Monica Mountains Trail Run (50k, 30k, 18k and 9k) taking place in La Jolla Canyon, Malibu, California. Better yet, we could highlight the NYRR Knickerbocker 60k in Central Park, New York. No, we won't tough any of those. Instead, this week's edition of TWIR will take a look at one race, and one race alone. The largest ultra event in North America. The 47th Annual John F. Kennedy 50 Mile.

Alright, Tony, go enjoy some turkey and a trail run. It's Bryon Powell, aka Trail Goat, here to fill you in on this year's JFK 50 mile. To start off, this year's JFK 50 mile is once again a Montrail Ultra Cup race. As such and given the fact that it's a 50 mile race, both the top two men and top two women will earn spots in next year's Western States 100. All competitors that finish will receive points toward the overall MUC rankings. (Read iRF's discussion of the MUC.) Below, I'll direct you to some JFK 50 resources, throw out some names of folks who are running it, and share some advice on JFK that I sent out yesterday.

Best of luck to everyone running the JFK 50 Mile! Leave a comment if you are running the race or would like to send a racer well wishes.

JFK Resources

The Official JFK website
Reflections on the JFK 50 Mile Run by Anstr Davidson- The seminal piece on the race.
2009 Entrants List (as of 10/23/09) - Check to see if your friends are in the race or which speed demons are racing.
My 2007 JFK Race Report - A detailed report of a PR effort.
My Running Times JFK Article -Presidential Race: JFK 50 -The legacy of the JFK 50 lives on was Bryon's first published running piece.
iRunFar's JFK Photo Contest - We ran this contest to generate photos for the Running Times article. There are 10 great shots.
iRunFar's Readers' Thoughts on JFK - This post generated input for the Running Times article.

The Contenders
Rather than putting together a resume for each "contender," I'm simply going to let you know who some of the big dogs are on this 1,000+ entrant list! I've surely missed some top runners among the hordes, so throw out any that I missed in a comment. Also, feel free to handicap the top runners... it's going to be quite a race. The only non-race is the open team competition, which goes to Ian Torrence et al, but more on that later.

Women

Meghan Arbogast
Annette Bednosky
Francesca Conte
Devon Crosby-Helms
Justine Morrison
Monica Ochs
Jill Perry
Jennifer Vanallen

Men

Todd Braje
Pete Brenckinridge
Josh Brimhall
Eric Clifton
Gregory Crowther
Chris Farley
David James
Scott Jurek
Hal Koerner
Oz Pearlman
Ian Torrence

I'll indulge with a bit on Ian. He's has been a member of all but one JFK team champion. This year he's joined on the Rogue Valley Runners team by the likes of Brimhall, Clifton, Jurek, and Koerner.

Advice on Running the JFK 50
I wasn't planning on sharing any thoughts about running JFK in this post, but this afternoon I ended up writing the following advise to a woman running her first JFK on Saturday. The advice is tailored for an experienced marathon who may or may not have run an ultra before. It, however, is not tailored for folks trying to break 8 hours at JFK.

* * * * *

As for Saturday, you won't have to worry about not having run technical trails of late. Supposedly the first 15ish miles are trail. That's only partially true. There are a couple road miles out of the gate and then another section of paved bike path on the "trail." To be sure, there are miles of rocky trail on the AT - especially the final descent! Take it easy - there will be plenty of roadies to keep you company. You will make the early cutoffs even if you walk chunks of the technical trail. Just keep the rubber side down.

If you're waffling over trail versus road shoe, I think that even more trail runners wear road shoes. If you can be careful early, you'll be thankful for the road shoe feel later! That said, some hybrid trail shoes like the Brooks Cascadia or Asics GT-2140 Trail would be fine choices, as well.

Once you get down to the tow path, the easiest of run-walks would keep you ahead of cutoffs. At most 50 milers, I'd advise people to walk the places where the terrain suggests that you do so. That could be ruinous at JFK, as you've got a pancake flat marathon following a 15 mile trail run. If you're in it to finish, take walk breaks on a schedule. If you've got some solid marathon or ultracredentials, you shouldn't have to set up a 5-1 or 10-1 walk ratio. Instead, grab what you need in the aid stations (i.e., get your hydration supply topped off, drink some fluids, and grab some snacks, if so inclined) and then walk out of the aid station. You can keep eating and drink, but (1) you keep moving and (2) get a nice walk break.

As the tow path drags on, consider scheduling a one or two minute long walking break between aid stations that are spaced farther apart. If you've prescheduled the breaks, you won't feel defeated and 2 minutes of walking after half an hour of running won't slow your time down by much.

A quick word on aid stations, as I suggested above, walk out of them if you are concerned with time. Go in with a purpose and don't get overwhelmed by the choices or coaxed into letting someone cook something for you. Grab and go! :-) Lots of time can be wasted this way.

Given than the weather is cooling off, don't overload yourself by carrying 60 ounces of water. You'll be fine with the equivalent of one handheld bottle that you can refill at stations. Sometimes I even run right through an aid station without topping off if I figure I have enough fluids to get me to the next one. One way to help nurse the water you carry is when you do stop at an aid station to get a bottle filled and someone else is filling it (they often do), take the time to drink two cups of fluid.

The Road to Trail Running Success?

2009-11-16T06:00:00.183-05:00

I like road running and think it has a place in training for trail races, especially trail ultramarthons. There, I've said it, let the hate mail commence...

OK, so it may seem hypocritical for a trail running website to suggest that road running may help someone into a better trail runner, but that's what came to mind during my18 miles on pavement and graded dirt that snaked through the Sierra foothills yesterday afternoon. That notion was reinforced with an exclamation point when the toll of 2,000+ feet of climb brought me to a walk somewhere around mile 13 or 14. (The full run had around 3,000 feet of climb.) It later occurred to me that I'll be in the best shape of my life if I continue running such routes for the next six months. I could be wrong. Below are a few thoughts on why a trail runner might want to hit the roads. Be sure to let everyone know how you use road running (paved or not) in training for your trail races... or exactly how much you detest road running.

Clarifications
Let me make it clear, I don't think road running is necessary; however, I do think that running roads, canal tow paths, flatter non-technical trails, etc can be beneficial to racing on the trails. (I'll stick to using the terms trail running and road running from here out, but know that I include the previously described terrain under "road running.") I also think that road running is of more benefit to ultrarunners than to those who race shorter distances on the trails. (That said, those short distance trail racers may benefit more from track or tempo workouts.) It goes without saying that getting in the trail miles pays big dividends come race day, I'm just suggesting that a variety of terrain might help you in the end!

Why Isn't Road Running Evil?
Below are a couple good reasons why I think road running and its ilk aren't the work of the devil.

Continuous and Consistent Running
When you hit some honest to goodness trails they can put a hurting on you in a hurry. Maybe steep climbs abound that get your heart pumping like a hummingbird's and reduce you to walking. Perhaps there are particularly technical sections or gobs of mud. Those things are a blast, but they can take you out of your running rhythm. On the flip side, a long, steep downhill may give you long sections where you can let gravity do the work while your cardiovascular system goes on vacation.

For sure you need to be prepared to do the above in many a trail race, but you'll likely want to run a bit as well, right? I find that when I run moderate distances on mountainous trails, I don't end up fatiguing some of my running muscles as much as I can by continuously running on the roads. Those very same muscles often DO come into focus in ultra distances and I, for one, like having them ready.

I also like putting my cardiovascular and endocrine systems through consistent two, three or four hours tests. I find I don't often keep a very even effort when training on trails where there are steep hills, obstacles to navigate, and views to take in. However, I do keep a very even effort (heart rate wise) when racing ultramarathons on the trails. I want my body prepared for that.

Run The Hills!
I love walking. I really do. When I'm out running in the mountains, I'm quick to switch into walking mode even while my companions keep running. I consider my walking ability a strength in ultras and specifically hone it before competing in a mountain 100 miler. That said, there are plenty of inclines to run in many trail races.

When out on the roads, I don't switch to walking even on grades that I walk on the trails. I guess roads keep me honest. If I put in my uphill road miles, I hope that I become a better uphill runner on the trails and end up moving the grade at which I switch from running to walking to a steeper grade.

Me enjoying (for the time being) a 3,000' run up from Mono Lake to Tioga Pass in June

Specificity: Specifically Flat Terrain
I don't know about you, but many of the trail races I run have a great deal of flat, runnable terrain in them. Western States 100? Check. Leadville 100? Check. Bull Run Run 50? Check. Stone Cat 50? Check. Well, perhaps in addition to training for the hills, we should put in some boring, flat, monotonous miles in training! I can attest that in my two biggest races of 2009 I at least perceived my lack of training on the flats to be a detriment to my performance.

After running many a rolling trail mile with a heavy pack in preparation for the Marathon des Sables, I ended up wishing I'd spent much more time cruising flat pavement. My biggest problem by far at MdS was fatigue from many miles of continuous flat running across the desert. Hello, hip flexors!

Then there was Leadville. Actually, there almost wasn't a Leadville 100 for me. Why? Well, one reason is that I thought I hadn't logged enough long continuous runs for this course. Maybe my performance there suggests otherwise, but when I run Leadville again I will be sure to include many more flat miles before I head to the start at 6th and Harrison.

Logistics
For some, road running isn't a result of training requirements; instead, it's for logistical reasons. Many folks don't have trail out their front door. When I've lived around Washington, DC, I logged nearly all of my weekday miles on the roads, because I didn't have trails that I could easily incorporate from work or home. Even now when I could drive to trails any day I like, I prefer the easy logistics of rolling out my front door and running... even if that means hitting the roads. Some who have trail access aren't able to log their weekday miles during daylight hours and are understandably leery of running on the trails alone at night. There are plenty of other logistical reasons why many a trail runner may log road miles and those road miles are better than no miles at all!

Conclusion and Call for Comments
Have no fear iRunFar readers! We'll be back with more trail running goodness on Wednesday. While road miles have a purpose that doesn't mean we wouldn't rather be out on the trails!

As noted in the intro, it would be great if you could share how you use road running in training for trail running or why you don't.

Stroller Discussion & BOB Sport Utility Stroller Review

2009-11-13T06:00:00.005-05:00

It just so happens that the ages for top running prowess and child rearing overlap a great deal. We're not sure whether this is an evolutionary adaptation to optimize running away from predators while carrying a child or to help speed up late night runs to the Kwik-E-Mart for baby supplies... or perhaps it's just a coincidence. Regardless of the reason, many runners face the dilemma of how to continue running once they've got a wee lil' one to look after.

Sure, some folks give up running. Others hit the treadmill with their kid close by. A lucky group have ultra supportive spouses that watch the kiddo(s), while they go hit the trail. However, a large number of runners end up bringing their child along on the run. World class ultrarunner Michael Wardian has spent countless hours running around Arlington, Virginia with his BOB Revolution Dualie, while Elinor Fish, Trail Runner Magazine's Managing Editor, has been logging miles with her first born this year. Below we provide iRunFar reader Meredith Murphy's experience with a BOB Sport Utility Stroller. We'd love to hear how you trained when children entered your life!

Before I got my BOB jogging stroller, I asked every running mom and dad I knew which jogging stroller they used. The majority used the BOB Ironman and a few used the BOB Revolution. Talking with BOB directly and going on the BOB website, I was directed to a feature on their site called "Which BOB is right for me?" and decided on the BOB Sport Utility model.

BOB Sport Utility Stroller

I am an ultrarunner and avid trail runner and the Sport Utility Stroller is the best option for off roading. I also opted for the infant seat attachment and the handlebar console accessories.

The stroller came and I enlisted my husband to assembled it. It was easy to put together and we have since learned that if you misplace the instructions and user manual all the information is on the BOB website. My husband kept commenting on how nice the stroller was and how high end the parts and materials were. I could not wait to use it!

My daughter came early and after 26 hours in labor I had to have a c-section and that was a big bummer. I had stopped running 6 months into my pregnancy, and all I wanted to do was run, but I had to be patient to heal.

At my 2 week follow up appointment, I was cleared to walk and out I went to the trail with my BOB. The infant car seat fit nicely and securely on the infant attachment with the baby facing towards me. I started walking, just a couple miles at a time, and every step was great. Even with walking, I was enjoying the BOB and it got dirty fast.

Most of my early walks were on a local trail and it held up great through large puddles and thick mud. The knobby tires on the Sport Utility model were perfect for the terrain. The suspension also made it smooth and easy to go over rocks and roots with the stroller. Even with the variable terrain, the baby slept 80% of the time.

Baby sleeping away in the BOB Sport Utility Stroller

Almost every day I got out there with that stroller and was soon fast walking 4-6 miles a day. The handlebar console was a good addition to the stroller. I can easily have two bottles of water right in front of me and the deep middle pocket held my keys, camera, phone and anything else. The big, deep pocket under the seat of the stroller easily holds my bug spray and well stocked diaper bag. On top of that, the back of the stroller has a large mesh pocket for extra storage. As a pack rat ultrarunner, I love having lots of places to stash lots of things and the BOB did not disappoint!

As my baby came early, she was tiny, but from the start she was super strong and active. By 3 months old, we decided to try her in the BOB without the infant seat since she could easily hold her head up for extended amounts of time. [NOTE: BOB recommends not running with a baby in the stroller until the baby is at least 8 months old. Likewise, it warns against running with the Infant Car Seat Adapter installed due to tipping risks.]

She did great from the start. The harness held her in there comfortably and securely; the straps on the harness are well padded and easy to adjust and latch. There are interior pockets next to the baby to stash toys, as well. The sun canopy is also very functional and multi-positional. On the top of the sun canopy, there is a nifty little window so you can keep a watchful eye on the baby while you jog or walk, but there is a flap that can pull over the window if the sun is hitting the baby. You can have the canopy open just a bit or fully, which pulls down in front of the baby to really shield him or her from the sun or wind.

My first few runs with the stroller were awkward, but soon became easier and more comfortable. There is a fast learning curve to running with a stroller. The handlebar is fixed and nicely padded. The padding does get a bit sweaty in the heat of the summer, but I cannot think of any material that you could use on the handlebar that would be padded, hold up in all kinds of weather and not get sweaty. There is a safety wrist strap to wear so the stroller does not get away from you, as well as a strong hand brake. On the back, there is a parking brake, which comes in handy while loading and unloading the baby from the car to the stroller and vice versa.

For trail running, this stroller is tops. The suspension on this model, in conjunction with the knobby tires makes it great. Early on, I knew it was great for walking on the trail, but once I started running I was unsure how it would hold up over the roots, rocks and uneven terrain, and it surpassed all expectations I had. Even with running on the trails, the baby sleeps most of the time in the stroller.

Last, but not least, the stroller is quite lightweight. I have little upper body strength and was concerned about getting it in and out of the car, but it folds up easily and I have no problem lifting it in and out. Also, the wheels easily pop on and off for an easier fit in smaller vehicles.

I had researched many brands and models of jogging strollers, knowing that as a serious and high mileage runner, I would need one. The BOB was definitely the most recommended by other runners and I soon learned why. Between the high quality of the components and the design of the stroller, the ease of usability and all the small details, it is a top notch jogging stroller for all runners. Even though I have the off road model, I have run on it on the paved trails and it soars, so I feel like I have the best of both worlds. The BOB did not disappoint. Also, only 11 weeks after being cleared to run, I ran 60 miles at a local race. The BOB was my key to getting back into shape post pregnancy.

Meredith with baby and BOB

[Disclosure: BOB provided the Sport Utility Stroller at a discount. Also, the links to Amazon in this post are part of an affiliate program that helps support iRunFar.com]

This Week In Running (Week of November 14 & November 15)

2009-11-11T06:00:00.001-05:00

Ah....November. The leaves have turned colors and are falling to the ground, the tempertures are dropping, and the number of ultra events are slowly decreasing as we prepare for the "feasting" holidays in November and December. However, one ultra runner that is showing no signs of slowing down is Geoff Roes. Roes, of Juneau Alaska, added to his list of 2009 victories with a first place finish at the Mountain Masochist 50 Mile (6:27:55), thirty minutes ahead of second place finisher Lon Freeman (6:58:25). The USATF Marathon Trail Championships also took place at the Lithia Loop Trail Marathon last weekend with Max King (2:40:23) topping Sam Robinson (2:42:54) by a slim margin of 2 minutes to take the overall title. On the women's side of things, Cynthia Arnold (3:08:42) took top honors, followed by Becca Ward (3:16:14), Devon Crosby-Helms (3:16:20), Krissy Moehl (3:17:58) and Ellen Parker (3:30:40). For more detailed coverage of the Mountain Masochist 50 mile, Lithia Loop Trail Marathon, and Stone Cat 50 mile, check out iRunFar's post covering those races. Moving on to this weekend, here is a look at just a few of the races/events taking place on the weekend of Saturday, November 14 and Sunday, November 15.....

We begin with the 14th Annual Rockledge Rumble (50k, 30k and 15k options) taking place on Saturday in Rockledge Park in Grapevine, Texas. The course is on the beautiful and rugged Northshore Trail along the scenic shore of Lake Grapevine. The terrain is rocky and provides a challenge for even the fittest of athletes. The 30k goes out-and-back from Jackson Pavilion to the turnaround. The 50k course is one long out-and-back to the turnaround, then one shorter out-and-back.

Oh, do we love this one! The Upchuck 50k, yes that's right, the Upchuck 50k, is set for its second official running this weekend in Cumberland Trail, Tennessee. The course is a point-to-point trail race that is run entirely on the technically challenging single track of the Cumberland Trail. The course has huge climbs and huge descents into Soddy Creek, Possum Creek and Rock Creek. It will, "without a doubt, go down in the race log as one of the best 50k courses you will ever do". We don't just love this race simply because of its logo...it also comes with its own warning - "Please do not attempt this run as your first 50k. This is a serious endeavor and will quite possibly be your slowest 50k to date. Let us reiterate: this is seriously difficult."

Speaking of events with warnings, how about the UltimateXC Moab in Moab, Utah (50k, 20 mile and 10 mile). In an area known for its mountain biking, this event will take runners though the spectacular terrain on foot. Yet, BEWARE - "No bab(ies) allowed. Most of our distance(s) advertised are wrong. For instance, our 10 miler turned out to be a 13 miler. Our 20 miler was really a 24 miler, and our 50km was in reality a 56km." Wait, there's more. "This is not a normal or standard 50km. The Ultimate Xc Moab Edition 50km is considered as one of the hardest 50km on the planet. Most of our participants will attest that this is as hard as a 50 miler. As a rule of thumb, if you can run a 50k in 6 hours, count on running this one in 9 hours. Yes, 50% more time to complete the same distance. If this sound(s) like a daunting task, this race is probably not for you."

Also taking place this weekend is the Run the River Trail Run (Granite Bay, CA) and the Rhode Island 6 Hour Ultra and Relay (Warwick, RI).

That will wrap things up for this week. Enjoy the great running weather while you can !

Mountain Masochist, Lithia Loop Trail Marathon & Stone Cat Results

2009-11-09T10:50:00.005-05:00

Since we previewed three big weekend races we thought it only fair to provide you with race results for each of those races. Below are resources for what went down at the Mountain Masochist 50 mile (MMTR report) and Lithia Loop Trail Marathon (LLTM report). Kelly Wilson of Vermont was kind enough to provide us a full race report from the Stone Cat 50 (and marathon), which we include at the bottom of this post.

Mountain Masochist Trail Run 50 Mile
Montrail's Geoff Roes continued his record breaking season (and cemented his iRunFar men's ultrarunner of the year status) by setting a new course record at the Mountain Masochist 50 with a time of 6:27:55. That's more than 20 minutes under Dave Mackey's previous course record! Speedster Lon Freeman (6:58:25) took second more than 30 minutes behind Geoff. Canadian Gary Robbins took third with a 7:00:28. Brazilian Valmir Nunes (7:12:17) and Virginian Jeremy Ramsey (7:33:33) rounded out the top 5.

Tamsin Anstey came down from British Columbia with her GORE-TEX TransRockies Run partner, Gary Robbins, and took the women's win in 8:09:07. Another of Tamsin's traveling companions, Nicola Gildersleeve, followed Tamsin in to take second with a time of 8:39:53. Young Virginian Heather Fisher was third in 8:47:00. Montrail runner Annette Bednosky brought home fourth in 8:56:46, while Ginger Smith of New York was fifth in 9:08:08.

The full MMTR results are up. The race also posted live text, audio, and video updates from the course that, when put together, make a nice narrative account of the race. Geoff Roes has posted a brief race report.

Lithia Loop Trail Marathon
No surprise in the men's field with Max King ending the day as the Lithia Loop Trail Marathon winner and, more important, the new USATF national trail marathon champion. Max's win is all the sweeter considering he essentially made his marathon debut a week earlier at the New York City Marathon where he placed top-20 with a 2:19. The men's top five was geographically diverse. Behind Bend, Oregon's King were California's Sam Robinson in 2:42:54; North Carolina's Aaron Saft in 2:48:42; Arizona's Greg McMillan in 2:54:50; and New Hampshire's Jim Johnson in 2:56:57.

from l-r: Max King, Sam Robinson, Aaron Saft and Jim Johnson photo: Ian Torrence, LLTM co-RD

Cynthia Arnold of Lexington, Kentucky took the women's championship in 3:08:42. Becca Ward's sprint to a 3:16:14 was just good to claim second. Three ultrarunners took third through fifth in the women's race: Devon Crosby-Helms (3:16:20), Krissy Moelh (3:17:58), and Ellen Parker (3:30:40).

Full Lithia Loop Trail Marathon results are available. Also check out the fine Mail Tribune article on the race.

Stone Cat 50 Mile
As noted above, Vermont's Kelly Wilson provided the following report on the Stone Cat 50 mile. [Trail Goat Note: I also covered the race for Competitor Running.]

It was a beautiful, sunny fall day in Ipswitch, MA at the Stone Cat 50m and marathon trail races. The morning started out on the chilly side at 27 degrees but warmed into the 50s with a slight breeze.

The racers lined up at the start at daybreak, Gil gave the word to go and they were off with the marathoners turning left to do their mini loop first while the 50 milers headed into the woods.

About an hour and a half later the 50 mile lead pack came in with Kevin Sullivan, Leigh Schmidt, David Herr, Brian Rusiecki (right), Jack Pilla and a short distance behind Todd Walker.

The sun had come out and the air was warming up nicely when Kevin Sullivan came in first to complete the second lap with Leigh Schmidt about 20 seconds behind. Brian Rusiecki followed about a minute later with David Herr and Jack Pilla not too far off pace.

Kevin headed out for his third lap looking over his shoulder for Leigh. However, shortly after the leaders had left, Kevin was walking back across the field. He was dropping due to a calf injury. Todd Walker came back too with an IT band bothering him.

Leigh Schmidt came in first at the end of the third lap with Brian Rusiecki about a minute behind him. David Herr and Jack Pilla weren't far behind.

Brian Rusiecki passed Leigh on the fourth lap and went on to win the race and set a new course record of 6:27:55. Leigh Schmidt finished second in a time of 6:32:06. Jack Pilla finished third in 6:51:49 passing David Herr on a hill within the last mile of the race. David Herr finished in 6:52:20.

The women's race was exciting as well with Aliza LaPierre winning her second Stone Cat 50 mile. Her main competition was Amy Lane who has had a great season winning most of the races she's entered this year. Aliza and Amy ran together for the first two laps. After the third lap, Aliza came in by herself and was out for her fourth lap before Amy came in. Aliza finished in 7:19:15 and Amy finished second in 7:54:40. Sue Dodge, a well known VT runner in the marathon and shorter distances, finished third. This was her first ultra.

Aliza Lapierre winning the women's race at the Stone Cat 50 mile
both Stone Cat photos: Mark Bentsen

Ben Nephew won the marathon in a course record time. [Trail Goat Note: Here's Ben Nephew's race report.]

Mountain Hardwear Fluid 10 Pack Review

2009-11-09T06:00:00.008-05:00

[We here at iRunFar.com are happy to introduce the newest member of our editorial staff, Allison Pattillo. A Carbondale, Colorado-based outdoor enthusiast and former editor at Trail Runner Magazine, we couldn't be more excited about adding her contributions under the moniker of Non-Gear Girl.

Why Non-Gear Girl? Because Allison appreciates useful products, not extraneous "gear" for gear's sake. Allison's explains: "My take on gear is that it has to serve its purpose, be good quality and easy to use. I don’t like gimmicks and tend to be rather suspicious of new things and updates — what was wrong with the old one? But once a product proves its worth, I’m sold. But if gear doesn’t augment my running experience, it goes straight to the interns - used to anyway!"]

Considering I support myself (somewhat anyway) by reviewing gear, I probably shouldn’t confess that sometimes gear simply overwhelms me. That’s why I run—grab some shoes (or not) and you’re good to go. So when I was invited to the Mountain Hardwear pack testing weekend, I went for the camaraderie and good food, but I got an amazing education as well!

Mountain Hardwear's forthcoming Fluid 10

Being fitted with a sport-specific pack (Mountain Hardwear's Fluid 10 is ideal for trail running, hiking and mountain biking) by the person who designed the pack, and having them show you all of the relevant features is an amazing experience. Going on an 11-mile hike/run with Eric, the pack designer, to give our instant, on-the-trail feedback was over-the-top.

Allison (center with light-blue pack) testing the Fluid 10

You should be wondering how in the hell I’m able to give an unbiased review after such ideal pack testing conditions. Good question—you may just have to try it for yourself!

After other testers tried the Fluid 10, we decided the compact yet roomy 10-liter pack works best on a small to medium-frame person. It has a snug, surprisingly jostle-free fit, with on-the-fly compression to adjust your load without removing the pack. Newsflash for me: sternum straps should be on your sternum—yup that bone just below your neck. No boob smashing required! The sternum strap on the Fluid 10 is on a sliding track for micro-adjustments.

Other features of note for our gear obsessed readers:

The HardWave frame sheet in the back panel truly keeps the back from collapsing without being rigid;
The back panel has plenty of mesh for good ventilation;
The soft-edged shoulder straps rock—no chafing and good breathability; and
The easy access (it really is!), zipper-free hydration sleeve is simple to use and holds most bladders up to 3 liters.

The Fluid 10 has zippered mesh pockets on the waist belt for essentials. They are handy and you can reach them with the pack on, but it’s a two handed affair best done while standing still. The stretch woven side pockets provide even more storage space for gear or water bottles. I could not reach the pockets with the pack on, and fully loaded with a three-liter bladder and two water bottles, the pack gets heavy in a hurry.

The pack is equipped with stretch cords, loops and an internal zippered pocket, but my favorite innovation is the externally accessed, fleece-lined pocket for glasses or a phone. Think about it, the outside top bit of a pack is always empty, so adding an outside pocket for fragile things is a brilliant use of space.

All-in-all it’s a good pack with room for all I need, and then some, for a day on the trails. The Fluid series also comes in 18, 26 and 32 liter sizes for fast-packing and longer trips—you do know the number refers to liter size right? Of course, you already knew that! The 1 pound, 4 ounce Fluid 10 will retail for $80 and will debut with the rest of its kin in Spring 2010.

Races Align: Stone Cat, Mountain Masochist, and Lithia Loop Previews!

2009-11-06T06:00:00.001-05:00

Who said the trail racing season is over for the year? (Oops, we kinda did!) Well, this weekend proves us wrong with the Lithia Loop Trail Marathon - the USATF trail marathon national championships - in Ashland, Oregon and two fiercely competitive 50 milers out east with Stone Cat in Massachusetts and Mountain Masochist in Virginia. In fact, this could be one of the most competitive trail racing weekends of the entire year. We're excited to take a look at the fields at Lithia Loop, Stone Cat, and Mountain Masochist. We'll be publishing reports on Lithia and Stone Cat over at Competitor Running next week.

Best of luck to everyone throwing down this weekend. Be sure to let us know how you think these races will play out!

Lithia Loop Trail Marathon - Ashland, Oregon
In only its second year, the Lithia Loop Trail Marathon has wasted no time breaking into the big time. It helps that this year the race is the USATF trail marathon national championships. However, that's only part of the reason that such a great field will be toeing the line on Saturday. You see, the race is put on by Rouge Valley Runners, a specialty running store owned by Hal Koerner, the 2007 and 2009 Western States 100 champion. Long time ultrarunner Ian Torrence manages the store, while stud runners like Erik Skaggs, the current USATF trail 100k champion, work there. In other words, this is a trail race put on by some of the best and most respected names in the sport and that attracts other top talent. $6,000 in prize money doesn't hurt either! It looks like all that talent could have an "interesting" day given the forecast of cold rain down low and snow up high. Here's who the crew have gotten to show up this year.

Men
While many of the top men are locals that still means a slew of men with 2:30 or faster marathon speed when you're talking Oregon.

Max King (Bend, OR) - A past member of team USA at the cross country world championships and US Olympic trails participant in the steeplechase, Max ran a 2:19 last weekend at the New York City Marathon in his first serious attempt at the distance. If he recovers, this is Max's race to lose.
Jeff Caba (Bend, OR) - Jeff won the inaugural Lithia Loop Trail Marathon last year (2:47) and returns to defend his title. In the interim, Caba ran a 2:31 at this year's Twin Cities Marathon.
Andy Martin (where else but Bend, OR) - Andy trains with Jeff, but beat him by 6 minutes at Twin Cities with a 2:25.
Thomas Brooks (Eugene "Hey, we're not Bend!", OR) - A steeplechaser like Max King, Thomas placed third in the event (8:25) at the 2007 USATF national championships.
Aaron Saft (Fletcher, NC) - Aaron will attempt to regain the USATF trail marathon crown that he captured in 2007 with a 2:30:53.
Mark Godale (Aurora, OH) - A road ultra specialist looks to tear up the trails. He's no slow poke though given his 2:30 marathon PR.
Phil Kochik (Seattle, WA) - Not sure he has the speed to compete, but he won the USATF trail 50 mile championships in '04 & '05.
Sean Meissner (Sisters, OR) - Ok, Sean's not going to win Lithia, but he's won three out of four marathons he's raced this year. He was also second at Lithia last year (2:53). We hope this iRunFar favorite brings home some gas money with a top-5 finish.

Women
It's a two woman race. Devon Crosby-Helms versus Krissy Moehl. If they were guys, they'd probably be talking smack right now. Why? Not because they're enemies, but because they're friends. These two (and two others) ran the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim together last month. (DCH's report; KM's report) So how's this friendly showdown gonna go down?

Devon Crosby-Helms (Sausalito, CA) - A good friend of iRunFar, Devon Crosby-Helms gets our nod. Earlier this year, Devon placed fourth at the 100k road world championships as part of Team USA's victory. More recently, she teamed up with Caitlin Smith to win the GORE-TEX TransRockies Run by besting The North Face's team of Kami Semick and Nikki Kimball.
Krissy Moehl (Seattle, WA) - In June, Krissy placed second behind Anita Ortiz at the Western States 100. In August, she came back to win and set the women's course record at the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc. Clearly Krissy has had a great year, but can she match Devon's speed?

Stone Cat 50 mile - Ipswich, MA
The Stone Cat 50 mile is one of iRunFar's absolute favorite races. (iRF 2007 race report) Let's call it a quirky classic that is New England all the way. Stone Cat is sponsored by a brewery with a mascot on (and off) course and is organized in the attic of a small mom and pop grocery (Gil's), the basement of which is the headquarters of Gil's Athletic Club that puts on the race. Every year, many of New England's top runners come out to race Stone Cat and this year is no exception.

Men
This year Stone Cat looks like a de facto New England trail 50-mile men's championship.

Leigh Schmitt (Conway, MA) - When was the last time Leigh Schmitt lost an East Coast 50 miler? Yeah, we can't remember either. Some say he can't be beaten. Behind the scenes, some say they can be him. We're waiting.
Kevin Sullivan (Andover, MA) - Kevin Sullivan, an iRunFar contributor, is one man who could take Leigh on the right day. At this year's Western States 100, Kevin took the NE crown by beating Leigh by 2 places and 50 minutes.
Brian Rusiecki (Leeds, MA) - Rusiecki won the Vermont 50 at the end of September. He churned out a 7:12 in horribly muddy conditions to edge out Glen Redpath by 7 minutes.
Jack Pilla (Charlotte, VT) - In 2007, Jack won Stone Cat with a then course record of 7:02. [Trail Goat Note: He schooled me by almost an hour.] Since then he placed 3rd at last year's Wasatch 100 and finally won the Vermont 100 this summer.
Todd Walker (Amherst, MA) - Unlikely to have the speed to claim the win, Todd is a long time ultrarunner who's more of a threat at 100 miles.
David Herr (Canaan, VT) - David does have the speed with 2:3X marathon credentials, but he's never put it all together at Stone Cat. Could this be the year?

Women
There's aren't too many national level names in this field and we plead ignorance on the top women's runners from New England, but here goes. Feel free to help us out with info and suggestions.

Aliza Lapierre (Williston, VT) - As far as we know, this is Aliza's race to lose. Lapierre won the race in 2007 while setting the course record at the time (8:07).
Jenny Chow (Long Valley, NJ) - Jenny has raced 8 100 milers this year and has won three of them (Kettle Moraine, Mohican, and Oil Creek).
Jenny Hoffman (Cambridge, MA) - Jenny won Stone Cat back in 2005 (8:30).
Kelly Willson (Charlotte, VT) - Kelly has won the Virgil Crest (nee Iroquois Trails) 100 the past two years.
Amy Lane (Westfield, MA) - Amy was the third woman at last year's Stone Cat 50 (8:55).

Mountain Masochist 50 Mile
With a few late entries, this year's Mountain Masochist Trail Run went from a good race to a great race. As this is a Montrail Ultra Cup race, the top two runners in both the men's and women's fields will earn a spot in next year's Western States 100. While we note a few top runners below, you can also check out former-RD David Horton's runner seedings for a more extensive list and his predictions.

Men
Given his season to date, we can't help but pick Alaska's Geoff Roes for the win.

Geoff Roes (Alaska) - Geoff Roes is having fun running these days and that spells trouble for everyone else. In July, Geoff became the first runner to break 3 hours at the quarter century old Crow Pass Crossing (24 miles), so he's got speed. In September, he took more than an hour off the Wasatch 100 course record, so he's got endurance and toughness.
Valmir Nunes (Brazil) - Valmir is a fast road guy with some endurance skills. In 2007, he set the Badwater 135 record... in his first attempt at the race. We don't know if he has the experience to handle the rocky second half of MMTR.
????? ???????? (????????) - Forget being PC, Mountain Masochist is the kind of race where stud runners CAN get in last minute. You never know who will show up on race day.
Gary Robbins (Canada) - An ultra friendly Canadian, Gary was setting 50k course records left and right this spring before winning the open mixed category at the GORE-TEX TransRockies Run in August. Gary was second at MMTR last year.
Jeremy Ramsey (Virginia) - Always fear a fast local like Jeremy Ramsey at Mountain Masochist. Jeremy placed third here in 2008.
Will Harlan (North Carolina) - Not a local, but Will is familiar with the rocky trails of the Appalachian Mountains. Harlan is very hit or miss, so he'll need to have one of his good days to compete.

Women
The women's race has some good runners, but no clear favorite. Will it be the talented, the tough, or the unknown who takes the day?

Justine Morrison (DC) - Justine is the defending MMTR champ and there's no one in the field that is clearly faster than her. A repeat is quite possible.
Heather Fisher (VA) - Heather cracked the top 5 in her Mountain Masochist debut last year. Look for this youngster (age 23) to move up now that she has some ultra experience under her belt.
Donna Utakis (MA) - Donna made the trek down to Virginia to win the Grindstone 100 last month. If she's recovered, this ultra veteran is a no-brainer for the top 5 with a chance to place higher.
Annette Bednosky (North Carolina) - Annette is on tough trail runner and is a treat to win any trail race she enters. (She won Western States in 2005.) However, Annette's been hurt and that hurts her chances of winning MMTR.

This Week In Running (Week of November 7 & November 8)

2009-11-04T06:00:00.003-05:00

TWIR spent last weekend in Fountain Hills, Arizona at the Javelina 100, where Dave James of Trumbull, Connecticut crushed the field on route to a new course record of 14:20:54, an hour faster than Karl Meltzer's prior course record. Beverly Anderson-Abbs took top honors for the women with a time of 18:48:05. The top 5 for the men and women were as follows:

Men

1. Dave James, 31, Trumbull, CT, 14:20:54
2. Mark Matyazik, 45, Irvine, CA, 17:22:09
3. Jerome Jourdan, 35, Phoenix, AZ, 18:32:25
4. Tracy Moore, 48, El Cajon, CA, 18:43:49
5. Fred Roberts, 49, Tucson, AZ, 19:50:47

Women
1. Beverly Anderson-Abbs, 45, Red Bluff, CA, 18:48:05
2. Brenda Corona, 48, Escondido, CA, 20:36:46
3. Elizabeth Murphy, 49, Escondido, CA, 21:15:25
4. Kara Scarbrough, 34, San Diego, CA, 21:42:57
5. Veronika Swidrack, 37, Radfeld, Austria, 22:58:26

[Trail Goat Note: Further afield, the US was well represented at that IAU 50k world championships held in Gibraltar. The North Face's Kami Semick won the women's race, while TNF's Micheal Wardian was America's top man in third place. Mike race hard and was running side-by-side with the eventual men's winner, South Africa's Lucas Nonyana. Justin Fyffe was the next American male in 9th, while Amanda Stickel from Ohio took 5th in the women's race. Pdf's of the men's race and women's race are now available.]

We are so exhausted from our trip out West (and the red-eye flight back East), that this week's edition of TWIR will mostly fall on the shoulders of our readers. [Trail Goat Note: Until I bring you the scoop on the trail stompin' competition at this weekend's Stone Cat 50, Mountain Masochist 50, and Lithia Loop Marathon on Friday!]

We have listed a few of the events taking place on the weekend on Saturday, November 7 and Sunday, November 8 below. You can head on over to the race web-site for more details. There certainly are others, so drop us a comment and let us know which one(s) you might be attending this weekend.

Stone Cat 50 mile and marathon (Willowdale State Forest, Ipswich, MA)
Mountain Masochist Trail Run (Lynchburg, VA)
Lithia Loop Trail Marathon (Ashland, OR) - The USATF Trail Marathon Championship
Ozark Trail 100 Mile Endurance Run (Steelville, MO)
Pinhoti 100 (Sylacauga, AL)
Mendon Trail Run 50k (Pittsford, NY)
Harbison Forest 50k (Harbison State Forest, SC)

What event are you running this weekend ? Let us know !

iRunFar Summer Road Trip #2 - Onwards and Upwards

2009-11-02T06:00:00.001-05:00

To be honest, my second road trip of the summer started off on the sad side. I flew back from California to say goodbye to friends and family in DC, New Jersey, and New York. While I was moving to paradise and could always come back to visit these people, I was leaving the only life and world I’d ever know behind me. All that said, I went on to explore places I never thought I’d visit during iRunFar Summer Road Trip #2: Onwards and Upwards.

It turns out my parents make just as good a pit crew as an ultra crew!

Rockefeller State Park Preserve, NY
While I ran some hometown trails in New Jersey’s Washington Crossing State Park, those runs don’t feel like part of the road trip. Therefore, the first run of road trip number two was an easy morning run through Rockefeller State Park Preserve with iRunFar writer and IRunUltras.com publisher, Tony Portera. (Tony's review of Rockefeller SPR) Though I rarely see Tony, the run felt as if he and I met up for such runs three days a week. We chatted about life, our upcoming running plans, and whatever else came up. It was a great way to start off the trip.

Frontenac Provincial Park, ON, Canada
My final farewell involved a trip to upstate New York to see my grandma. From there, I set off on my first trip to eastern Canada. At the border I gave up a can of pepper spray (really?!), but talked the guard into letting me take a house plant across the border so long as I promised that it wouldn’t leave the car. A few hours later I was northwest of Kingston, Ontario with trail running/snowshoeing couple extraordinaire – Derrick Spafford and Sara Montgomery. The next morning Derrick took me out to Frontenac Provincial Park to explore what the “Canadian Shield” had to offer. For 20 miles, we followed the gently rolling single-track as it weaved past numerous lakes and granite outcroppings under a thick maple canopy. We also came across a couple beaver dams, including one that was an integral part of the trail. Oh, Canada…

Derrick showing off a beaver’s toothy work in Frontenac

Sleeping Giant Provincial Park, ON, Canada
To make the most of my first Ontario excursion, I took the high road out of Frontenac. In fact, I went about as far north as I could as I traversed the province on Kings Highway 11 between North Bay and Thunder Bay. It was during this veeeerrrrry long drive through Canadian bush country that I first heard of The Sleeping Giant, Canada’s top natural wonder as voted in a CBC poll. The peculiar feature gets its name as the Sibley Peninsula looks like a person in repose upon Lake Superior.

iRunFar's mobile headquarters during this summer's latter two road trips

After first overshooting the park and having to get directions at the Terry Fox Memorial, I hit the Sleeping Giant Provincial Park for a run. As I started down the trail so did the rain. It quickly picked up in intensity as it swept east across the aptly named Thunder Bay. Not a mile down the trail, I passed a group who warned of a large black bear on the trail. Maceless since my border crossing, I picked up two stones and clapped them together as I sang my way down the trail. Never saw the bear, but I sure feared it as I veered right onto some tight single track. I eventually dropped the rocks and into a hidden valley… or so it seemed. It’s rare that I’ve felt so immersed in nature as I did in this place. The highlight of the run was literally being splashed by a beaver that was less than 10 feet away when I had no option but to cross his dam. This was definitely a back track worth taking. Plus, it meant I got to stop at the Terry Fox Memorial twice!

Note the beaver to the left and the blue trail marker ahead

Maah Daah Hey Trail, Teddy Roosevelt National Park, ND
Another day, another trail. I could get used to this! Once I crossed back into the States I continued on a northerly route headed towards Theodore Roosevelt National Park and its Badlands. I had no particular run in mind for the park, but when I learned that the famed Maah Daah Hey Trail passed through the park, my decision was easy. The trail didn’t disappoint. I jumped on the trail where it passed by the intersection of the Little Missouri River and I-80. I ran east on a flat valley tucked between bluffs to the north and the winding Little Missouri to the south.

Running between the Little Missouri River and some bluffs on the Maah Daah Hey Trail

The grass tight along the trail was saturated with ticks, which I regularly stopped to pull off my legs. Two miles down the trail another animal had hidden itself in the tall grass – a rattlesnake. The snake blended in perfectly and it wasn’t until I was on top of the snake that its rattle alerted me of its presence. I looked back and saw it coiled as if ready to strike. I noted the snake’s position in my GPS and continued practically high stepping my way down the trail.

The toothiest of my animal foes on the Maah Daah Hey Trail

Eventually, a trail turned northward. I followed it up to the top of the bluffs from which I had a great view of the trail I’d traveled and the valley beyond the bluffs. On the way back, I bushwacked my way to the very top of the bluffs and was treated to an interesting mineral field that I investigated. The rest of my return trip I was enjoyed to great views, as the bluffs threw ever-lengthening shadows over the flat valley below.

Running off into the sunset on the Maah Daah Hey Trail

Ruby Crest Trail, Elko County, NV
Sometimes the best-laid plans are quickly laid to rest. The evening before what I’d intended to be the crowning run of my first two road trips – a full-length run of the 42-mile Ruby Crest Trail, it was called off. My partner for the run, Brendan Trimboli, and I decided that the logistics of the car shuttle, setting up camp, and running the trail just wouldn’t work given our projected arrival times in Elko. In hindsight, I’m sure glad we bailed because it would have been on long walk of the Ruby Crest Trail.

Lamoille Canyon was all clear… below the trailhead

What I hadn’t anticipated was the sheer volume of snow that would still be on the trail and how slow going it would make any progress down it. Rather than deal with any shuttling, Brendan and I decided a simple out-and-back was in order. Easier said than done. Upon hitting the trailhead we covered a small length of valley floor and then began ascending the switchbacks. Snow patches quickly turned into a snowfield in which we had to carefully search for the inconspicuously marked trail. To be fair, when the trail isn’t covered in snow, it’s impossible to miss. Not so in the snow.

This may or may not be the Ruby Crest Trail, but we took it

We frequently split up only to rendezvous when one of us was certain he was on trail. The route-finding, steep terrain, two-mile high elevation, and goodness knows how deep snow kept us at a near standstill. By the time we reached Liberty Pass, it had taken over an hour and a half to cover two and two-thirds miles. Granted, there was at least 1,600’ of climbing in about two and a half of those miles, but that’s still a pace that would have had us taking over a day to cover the 42-mile length of the trail.

Brendan climbing toward Liberty Pass on the Ruby Crest Trail

At the pass we noted a strong thunderstorm, so after a few pictures we turned around for the trailhead.

Weather forming over Liberty Lake on the far side of the pass

Having long before switched from a cover-the-distance mindset to a enjoy-the-journey one, Brendan and I made the most of the trek back to the car. We kicked things off with some high altitude sledless sledding. Upon reaching one of the small lakes along the way, we came across three other intrepid souls and stopped for a delightful chat. The final leg of our return trip turned into a fun bushwack into the valley.

Brendan sneaking in some running at the end of our journey

iRunFar Summer Road Trip #2 Completed
After the misadventure in the Ruby Mountains I headed home to the Sierra foothills for a few days of recuperation prior to embarking on the biggest of the three iRunFar summer road trips. I need the break as I’d driven more than 7,000 miles in the month since I first pulled the Penske truck (iRF Summer Road Trip #1) away from the curb in Arlington, Virginia

iRunFar Summer Road Trip #1 -The Penske Chronicles

2009-10-30T13:56:00.005-04:00

I started my summer by picking up my life (and iRunFar world headquarters) in Arlington, Virginia moving it to the foothills of the Sierra Nevada in California in two transcontinental road trips. I followed that up with a trail runner's dream of a road trip. In all, I spent nearly four months roaming the world - primarily America's Intermountain West - in search of sweet trailheads and the adventures to which they give rise. Over the next week or so, I'll share some of the highlights of those trips. If you want more details about any adventure, leave a comment telling me what you'd like to know. For now, I give you iRunFar Summer Road Trip 1 - The Penske Chronicles.

"Wander a whole summer if you can. Thousands of God's blessings will search you and soak you as if you were a sponge, and the big days will go by uncounted. If you are business-tangled and so burdened by duty that only weeks can be got out of the heavy laden year, give a month at least. The time will not be taken from the sum of life. Instead of shortening, it will indefinitely lengthen it and make you truly immortal." - John Muir

iRunFar Summer Road Trip 1 - The Penske Chronicles
In case you didn't know, rental truck outlets set minimum rental periods for point-to-point rentals depending on the length of the journey. As I was moving from Arlington, Virginia to Merced, California, Penske "gave" me a generous 11 days to make the journey. I decided to make the most of it.

My summer of fun kicked off as I pulled away from the curb after darkness fell on May 19th. Over the next three days, I headed west without straying far from America's (or at least my) central travel axis, I-80.

Johnson-Sauk Trail SRA, Illinois
As afternoon waned on Day 1, I veered off the highway toward a green patch I found on my iPhone. It's there I logged a quick adventure run in Illinois's Johnson-Sauk Trail State Recreation Area. Though unspectacular, I had a most pleasant time running the trails. As I drove off, I decided to take a picture of Ryan's Round Barn (pictured below). I missed the shot and while turning around I noticed a group of runners gathering. I drove up, pulled over, and jumped out. A few minutes later, I was off on the second half of an impromptu double.

Ryan's Round Barn at the Johnson-Sauk Trail Recreation Area

Vedauwoo, WY
One day and 900 miles later, I pulled off I-80 at one of my favorite spots in the world - Veadauwoo, a Seussian granite outcropping plopped between Cheyenne and Laramie in Wyoming's Medicine Bow National Forest. While these rocks always have a unique, almost spiritual quality to them, this trip was my most intense yet. As the rental truck climbed from the prairies to the east, I drew ever nearer the cloud bank that sat a hundred feet above Vedauwoo's base. After I parked the truck along the interstate off ramp and set out on my run as the clouds hugged in tighter and a stiff breeze blew over the crest on which Vedauwoo rests. I explored a bit, but the place was way too eerie to venture far a field. I mostly stuck to the large exposed rock formations before heading back to the truck on the roads. I couldn't handle being on the trails alone in those conditions. The first 10 minutes of driving west after the run were the most intense of my life.

Vedauwoo before the cloud ceiling descended

Glenwild Loop, Park City, UT
After running out of gas west of Laramie (N.B. there are no gas stations open at night between Laramie and Rawlins), I made it to Park City the next morning. Having spent two summers living in PC, I knew there was a great trail running option just moments off the interstate. During my Utah summers I would often hit the Glenwild trails on my commute home from Salt Lake City. If you run the route clockwise, you get a short warm up on flat trails, a steady climb, a fun descent, and then a long flat section before a second descent down to the creek at the parking lot. This creek is a fantastic spot after a hard run, as it's cold enough for a soak and there are always plenty of birds to provide you with entertaining company.

The Wasatch Mountains from the meadow portion of Glenwild

Pocatello 50 Mile, ID
From Salt Lake City, I drove the Penske truck north toward Pocatello. Just minutes but still an entire world away from town, I headed west up into the mountains to find an encampment of eager trail runners. The next morning they'd set off solo or as part of a relay team in the first annual Pocatello 50. I'd write more about this race, but I'll be treating it to a full write up in the future. In short, the course was fantastic, but more than I cared to tackle on the day. I still managed to have a wonderful time despite DNFing.

Where's the top? Hell, where's the trail?

After the race, Sean Meissner and I drove down to Salt Lake City, where a kind soul had agreed to provide me with a place to leave the Penske. A yummy breakfast later, I jumped in Meissner's car and we headed south. My transcontinental move was way off course... or was it? We were headed to the Grand Canyon after all!

Bryce Canyon NP, Utah
Not wanting to miss a beat in our training, we looked for a spot to run en route to the Big Ditch. After some debate, we settled on a little green spot on the map - Bryce Canyon National Park. Wow! I'm sure glad we went there. Our 8-mile loop of the Fairyland and Rim Trails ran us through some of the most fantastic landscapes imaginable. The ever changing light thrown by a slow moving cloud bank only added to the fun ... and treated us to a rainbow, too. The run was made all the better by the fact that I shared it with a great friend.

Sean Meissner running Bryce Canyon NP's Fairyland Trail

Grand Canyon NP, AZ
A day later, Sean and I went for a shake out run along the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. I'll spare you the obligatory picture of me on Powell's point. We ran west along the rim before catching a shuttle back to the main visitor area.

A late day view of the Grand Canyon from the South Rim

Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim. It's an easy concept. It's not an easy journey. Meissner and I started early and I took advantage of early morning light to snap some photos. Then my camera battery died. That was probably a good thing as I was able to spend the rest of the day absorbing the journey, both visually and spiritually.

Meissner descending the Grand Canyon's South Kaibab Trail

I greatly enjoyed the descent down the South Kaibab trail to the Colorado River. The runnable 7-8 miles up the North Kaibab Trail out of Phantom Ranch - not so much... but much more than I would in the afternoon. I did, however, love the walk up to the North Rim once the trail steepened. I love to walk! I love to descend almost as much as I love to walk, so the run down from the North Rim was sweet until the trail flattened out.

I had spent myself trying to run up the same trail earlier in the day and my under-trained hip flexors were not happy. I hung in there until I noticed my heart rate steadily increasing to tempo run range despite an easy effort on a slightly downhill trail. It was mid-afternoon and the sun beat steadily down on us. To make matters worse, the slot canyon we'd entered acted like a solar oven. My rapid heart was a clear sign that I had heat exhaustion. I told Sean that if we didn't make it to Phantom Ranch in 10 minutes, I was going in the stream along which we were running. Ten minutes passed and no Phantom Ranch - into the stream for a nice soak we went.

I arose from the water greatly revived. We trotted down to Phantom Ranch and enjoyed ice cold lemonade and some candy bars in the miraculous air conditioning. I wanted to never leave this oasis, but we did. We crossed back over the river and ran downstream for longer than I thought we would. A turn to the left and we started our Sisyphean climb back to the South Rim. Meissner is a heck of a hill climber, so I just settled into my own pace, while Meissner would wait for me from time to time. Clouds settled over us for our climb up the Bright Angel Trail and we were even treated to some gusty winds and chilly rain in a thunderstorm. It was refreshing. A couple hours later, Sean and I stood atop the South Rim and surveyed what we'd done together. It was awesome. Sean definitely deserved his girly drink that night!

Meissner with his well-deserved post-R2R2R drink

Road Trip #1 Complete
From the Grand Canyon, I flew from Flagstaff back to Salt Lake City and drove trough the night to my new home in the Sierra foothills. A few days later I would fly back to Arlington, to wrap things up before starting iRunFar Summer Road Trip #2! Check back soon to read the next installment!

iRunFar Road Trip #1 - Complete!

This Week In Running (Week of 10/31 & 11/1)

2009-10-28T06:00:00.001-04:00

Spooky, but the right way to kick off This Week In Running's look at a few of the events taking place on All Hallows' Eve, including a pair of 100-milers, Javelina Jundred 100 and Cactus Rose 100.

We begin in Fountain Hills, Arizona, with the 7th annual Javelina Jundred 100 and Jalloween party. The course consists of six washing machine loops (reverse directions each loop) plus a half-loop on the 15.4 mile Pemberton Trail (the final, half-loop is 9 miles, making the total distance of this race 101.4 miles). The gently rolling single track and jeep trail through the desert, surrounded by beautiful mountain views, combines many aspects of desert running, including sandy washes, rocky trail, and thorny vegetation. JJ100 has an overall time limit of 30 hours, but runners must complete the first 6 loops in 27.5 hours. The course record is held by Karl Meltzer (15:25:10 in 2006). The women's record is held by Stephanie Ehret (17:38:51 in 2003).

The 2009 edition of Javelina looks to be quite a battle with a slew of top notch runners on the entry list - Beverley Anderson-Abbs, Michelle Barton, Julie Berg, Josh Brimhall, Jonathan Gunderson, Paul DeWitt, Dave James, and Jorge Pacheco, to name a few. Lots of special awards are presented, including Best Costume (male and female), Congeniality, Geri K (Most Memorable), Best Ass, First Virgin, Oldest Finisher, Youngest Finisher, Best Team Finish, and Dead Last.

Another 100-miler kicking off on Halloween is Cactus Rose (100 and 50 mile options) in Bandera, Texas. This "nasty, rugged trail run" prohibits "Whiners, Wimps, or Wusses" and offers "bonus points for blood, cuts, scrapes and puke." The event is designed to require the least amount of volunteers as possible - a sort of self-serve setup of aid stations and support systems. Like JJ100, Cactus Rose is an alternating direction course. The race starts in the clockwise direction, but runners change direction with each loop. The loops are 25 miles in length. Also like JJ100, there is a costume contest, but in this instance runners need not wear the costume for the entire run (only for one complete loop).

Cold and windy Chicago, Illinois plays host to the 10th Annual Chicago Lakefront 50/50 this weekend. The course is 4 out-and-back segments along the Lakefront running path, consisting mostly of asphalt with some concrete sections. This race is said to be one of the flattest 50k and 50 mile courses in North America. The current 50 mile world record was set on Chicago's lakefront in 1984.

We finish this week with the Carkeek 12 Hour in Seattle, Washington. Dubbed the "hardest 12 hour race out there, period", the course is a 1.93 mile loop with approximately 430 feet of elevation gain per loop. Of course, there is a costume contest (runners must wear the costume for at least one full loop).

That will wrap things up for this week. If you choose to run an event this weekend.....be careful out there.....strange things have been known to happen on All Hallows' Eve.

Summer Gear Heaven

2009-10-25T02:28:00.015-04:00

The summer Outdoor Retailer show has been over for three months, so why am I writing about it now? For starters, I still want to clue you in on the best gear on its way to market. While a few of the products mentioned below are available right now, most will be released in late winter/early spring 2010. I'd rather limit your gear lust to 3 months rather than 6! Second, I was just too busy this summer to write about the show (think, OR in Salt Late City on Friday evening, Seattle on Saturday morning, and Banff on Sunday), and it now fits in with this week's theme of the iRunFar Summer Road Trip. Alright, enough with the lame excuses and on to the gear!

Top(o) Product

Without a doubt, the product that excited me most at Summer OR was National Geographic's Trails Illustrated Explorer software. This software is based on National Geographic's fantastic Trails Illustrated maps and follows up on the group's Topo! software with which some readers may be familiar. I used Topo! to explore routes in the Appalachians not long after I started running ultras early in the decade. Topo! had great data, but was a pain in the butt to use, as you had to plot a point for every spot you wanted to follow along the trail.

Well, along comes Trails Illustrated Explorer with every trail and road pre-digitized. No more tedious point plotting. Just drag the cursor along an established route and Trails Illustrated Explorer does the rest. The Trails Illustrated Explorer series, which currently includes many iconic National Parks and some entire regions (i.e., the White Mountains, Colorado 14ers, and the Sierra Nevada), is addicting. The only thing more fun than planning a myriad of routes is trying them out!

[I've used the Sierra Nevada edition since I've returned to the Sierra Foothills and love it even more in practice than in theory. Not only is it great for learning the trails of Yosemite National Park, but helps me to easily explore new road routes from home.]

Trail Shoes
New Balance MT100 - Summer OR brought the Anton Krupicka and Kyle Skaggs inspired MT100 one step closer to the market. Low profile and ultra light, these slipper-esque trail shoes are a minimalist's dream. Enough so, that they are one of the most highly anticipated trail running shoes in a long while. The MT100 and their women's counterpoint, the WT100, are already available. (Support iRF by using the following links to purchase the MT100 or WT100.)

[Be aware that the bright orange version of the MT100 you've seen in magazines (and see above) will not be available in the US... just various shades of drab gray for us.]

"Hybrid" Shoes - While Brooks might not be changing much about the Cascadia between versions 4 and 5, other companies are looking to give the Cascadia a run for its money.

Patagonia Footwear's first "running" offering, the Release, was more akin to a light hiker than a trail running shoe. Not so much with the forthcoming Tsali. A thin rock plate and lighter than usual EVA combine to make a 10 ounce shoe aimed at running to the trailhead as well as from it.

The North Face's outstanding gear and apparel were adopted by the outdoor community long ago. That's not the case with TNF's trail running shoes which have yet to catch on widely. The North Face hopes to change all that with the forthcoming Single-Track, a 11.5 oz (men's 9) offering that should help update the company's image.

[Aside from offering the Single-Track, TNF will be actively re-imaging its line of trail running shoes. First off, the classic Half Dome logo is being replaced with a swooshier logo. In addition, previous TNF trail shoe offerings will see name updates. For instance, the Arnuva will become the Sentinel and the Rucky Chucky will become the Devil's Thumb.]

Salomon Reelax - An apres-running shoe, the Relax is a treat for your feet. It was just what my feet needed in the weeks after running the Leadville 100. Keep your eyes open for the Relax early next year.

Just like New Balance's MT/WT 100,

the bright version of Salomon's Relax (above) will not be found state-side

For the barefootin' crowd, Virbam will be giving you two new options. First off, is the KSO Trek ($125) that makes the KSO more trail-worthy by adding a kangaroo leather upper and some light cleating to the tread. The Bikila, named after basefoot Olympic marathon champ Abebe Bikila, is designed for the roads with a padded ankle collar and reflective accents. The Bikila will be available for $100 in 2010.

Apparel/Accessories
My favorite accessory of Summer OR '09 was Mountain Hardwear's Seta strapless running gaiter. The gaiter should work with all running shoes, as it is not subject to proprietary attachment points as have some earlier running gaiters. I look forward to a readily available running gaiter with reflective details and extra velcro patches so that the gaiter can be worn with multiple pairs of shoes.

On the apparel front, it looks like Moeben's arm sleeves (iRF review) will be seeing even more competition this summer as everyone and their mother comes out with arm warmers. Merrell will be taking the concept one step further than many others by pairing arm warmers with matching short-sleeve technical shirts as part of its Trail Mix collection. The men's Dualtrek ($65) is a straight-forward sleeve/shirt pairing, while the women's Longmont ($79) pairs a shrug with the top. Both tops have stash pockets and reflective details.

Lights
I didn't notice any game changing lights at OR this year. That said, two companies made notable upgrades to their lighting lines.

Topping the lighting update list is Petzl's overhaul of its Tikka/Zipka line with the introduction of the Tikka2, Zipka2, Tikkina2, and so on. All of these lights now throw way more light than their precedent model with no additional wear on the batteries. The Tikka Plus 2, Zipka Plus 2, and Tikka XP 2 now feature a battery indicator and an additional red light. The wee e-Lite (iRF review) gains a tiny whistle in the cord lock.

Since 2008, GoMotion has provided chest- and waist-mounted lighting options for trail runners. This summer GoMotion added 1 and 3-Watt Waist Light Kits. The company previously offered and continues to offer a LiteBelt waist pack; however, the new Waist Light Kits allows a trail runner to add an easy lighting option to her or his favorite waist pack.

Hydration
I correctly called the CamelBak Flow Meter's ($30) introduction heading into summer OR. This small hydration tube attachment measures fluid consumption, tracks remaining reservoir supply, and monitors programmable hydration goals.

High in the sky pack maker Osprey is jumping into the hydration game with Osprey Hydraulics. Two packs - the Manta (20 liters cargo capacity) and the Raptor (6 liter cargo capacity) - are scheduled for mid-February 2010 release. Highlights of the series include a nozzle that magnetically clips to the sternum strap and a "LidLock" on the Raptor that will quickly attach a helmet to the pack.

[Disclaimer: We received free samples of the following products: National Georgraphic Trails Illustrated Explorer: Sierra Nevada; New Balance MT100; The North Face Single-Track; Salomon Relax; Petzl Tikka Plus 2, and GoMotion 1-Watt Waist Light Kit. In addition, affiliate links in this post help support iRunFar.com.]

Best Summer Running Memory

2009-10-23T06:00:00.003-04:00

Last week, we asked what fun running plans you had in store for the fall. We thank everyone who shared his or her plans. Go check out other reader's plans and add your own. Aside from running, fall is also a time to reminisce about the great times had over the summer. That's why we're asking you to share your best summer running memory with us. It could be an entire road trip with your family/buddies, a race that you'll always remember, or singular magic moment out on the trail. (Feel free to link to a report when leaving a comment, but be sure to write a bit about your experience IN the comment so people will know what you're talking about!) We'll share some of our favorite comments in the main post.

While we're inviting you to reminisce about your summer, we will, too. After a month back at iRunFar's stationary headquarters in the Sierra foothills, it's finally time to fill you in about the iRunFar Summer Road Trip! We don't want to bore everyone to death, so we'd love to know what you'd like to hear about the most.

A revised itinerary?
Races run?
Races watched?
Other cool trails run?
The non-running gear that made it happen?
Gear we saw along the way?

Let us know and we'll try to cover it next week.

Ultimate Direction Bottle With Kicker Valves Review

2009-10-21T07:00:00.006-04:00

What's the surest way to know that a gear reviewer really loves a product? See them buy the gear full-priced with their own hard earned money. Two weeks prior to the Marathon des Sables this spring I walked into a local running store and bought two 26-ounce Ultimate Direction bottles with kicker valves ($10). If I needed another bottle today, I'd go ahead and do the same thing. As I recently shared on iRunFar's Facebook page, this classic from Ultimate Direction is still the best water bottle I've ever used while running.

I could talk about the bottle's comfortable shape or the fact that the top doesn't leak (surprisingly, not always true of water bottles), but no feature compares to the UD bottles' kicker valve. It's easy to open and even even easier to shut, taking only a wave of the opposite hand or a quick brush against the torso to seal the bottle tight.

The Ultimate Direction Kicker Valve in its various states of openness

The valve is also very easy on the mouth - a big plus when you're using it for 10, 20, 30, or more hours at a time. I've had other bottles tear up the inside of my mouth after extended use.

Questions

What's your favorite bottle to use while running?
If you've used an Ultimate Direction bottle with kicker valves, what did you think?

[Disclosure: The link to Amazon in this post is part of an affiliate program that helps support iRunFar.com. No free samples were received from Ultimate Direction in connection with this review.]

Merino Buff Review by Elyse Braner

2009-10-19T07:00:00.003-04:00

On a few of my maintenance runs during the cool mornings of March, I decided to deviate from my normal ponytail and ear warmers and try the Wool Buff 100% Merino headband ($27). When I first received the product, I was a little skeptical, because it was so different from anything I had worn in my training. I initially thought it would be something that only a hardcore mountain trail runner would wear. I was pleasantly surprised as I did my runs down the dark, early morning DC streets.

Not only is this product great for cold weather, it is highly functional. There are multiple ways that the Buff will keep you warm. I wore mine around my neck under my pullover for an added layer of warmth, as well as on my head, folded over as ear warmers. I was also able to make it into a really cute, thick headband. Due to the thickness of the headband, it stayed on my head and was really comfortable. This product can certainly take you from the ski slopes, to the hiking trails, to keeping your hair back while lounging around. This product is also highly technical. The fabric offers natural stretch, uv protection, and moisture control. I liked this version so much, that I ordered the original all-weather Buff (in pink, of course).

Additional

If any of you have tried the merino wool Buff, please let everyone know what you think of it.
Interested in the idea of the Buff, but live in a warmer climate. Check out iRunFar's thorough review of the Original Buff.

[Disclosure: Buff provided a free sample Wool Buff for this review.]

Fall Fun - What's Yours?

2009-10-16T07:00:00.007-04:00

Autumn is here! With it comes cooler weather, a much welcome relief in many parts of the country. You can now hit the trails and take in the changing seasons - whatever form that may taking in your neck of the woods - without needing to carry three water bottles for a two hour run. For many, it also means the end of the trail running racing season after many months of training and then racing. However, there are still some major trail races like the Lithia Loop Trail Marathon, Stone Cat 50 mile, Mountain Masochist Trail Run, The North Face Endurance Challenge Championships, and the XTERRA Half Marathon World Championships, as well as many, many other trail races. These autumn races often seem like an afterthought... a welcome bonus after a summer of hard work. In some parts, snow is already flying and the trails may be open for only a few more weeks. You've still got time to sneak in one last epic run in the mountains, right? Well, we're wondering what trails runs - races or recreation - you're most looking forward to before the end of the year. Tell us!

With two and a half months left in the year, I've got lots of runs I'm psyched about. In the short term, I'm excited to get in my first ever runs in the Big Sur area the next few days. When November rolls around, I'll have two weeks of exploring the desert southwest. Never having run in Zion National Park or New Mexico, those two spots top my trip To Do list. Once I'm back in the Sierra foothills, I'm hoping to sneak in at least one more Yosemite high country run before it's socked in with snow. Of course, once it does snow, I can't wait to go for my first snowshoe run of the season. I've never snowshoed without a heavy pack, so this next snowshoe will be a fun experiment. Finally, I've got one more race on the schedule this year - The North Face Endurance Challenge Championship in December. I'm not training specifically for it, but it will be a good fitness test before going into a long period of race silence.

Autumn has already arrived in the High Sierras!

Brooks Cascadia 4 Review and Cascadia 5 Preview

2009-10-14T07:00:00.017-04:00

The Brooks Cascadia 4 are the sole reason I've not reviewed a pair of single pair of shoes on iRunFar since reviewing END Footwear's WOW on April 24. (END has since gone belly up.) I started writing this review of the Cascadia 4 way back on April 10. Ever since, I've kept telling myself, "Just one more run and I'll write the Cascadia review," but I just couldn't put the Cascadia 4 in the closet. I liked them too much. Here's what I had to say a full six months ago:

"Man, I sure am glad that I hadn't run more than 2 miles in the fourth iteration of Brook's Cascadia before I ran the Marathon des Sables, because I sure would have had a difficult decision to make. Out of the box, the Cascadia 4 feel lightweight, breathable, stable, and cushy."

Pavement
"During an initial test on pavement, the Cascadia were one of, if not the best, cushioned trail shoes I've ever tried. Even more impressive is the Cascadia's "feel" on pavement. The roll and subsequent gait feel exactly like that of the road shoes many of us are used to wearing. While this may not be all that surprising from what is traditionally a road shoe company, it caught me off guard (in a good way) in what is a from-the-ground-up trail shoe design put together with the help of 7-time Western States 100 winner Scott Jurek. As someone who gets lots of trail shoes, but very few road shoes to test, I could very easily make these my road shoes. Now onto the trail."

Trails

Well, as the last six months of testing show, it turns out that the 12.5 ounce (men's 9) Cascadia are also great trail shoes for non-technical to moderately technical trails. Its easily transfers the same great ride it has on the roads to the trails. The rockplate and small toe bumper are more than enough protection unless you're going up against particularly gnarly trail obstacles. I know that I've never felt like the Cascadia wasn't enough shoe when I've worn it on the trail. Then again, I quickly defer to a slightly beefier shoes like the Montrail Mountain Masochist (iRunFar review) when I know I've got a day of rock kickin' fun in store.

What my Brooks Cascadia 4s looked like about 500 miles ago

However, I've got one major warning regarding the Cascadia, it sucks on slick trails. It can hold just fine on a wet dirt road, but throw in some wet rocks or wood or some slick mud and you're toast. Seriously, the first real trail run I went on in the Cascadia it was a big disappointment. I went out on a tough run on the Allegheny Trail with a man tough enough to be known simply as "Mongold." It was pouring and Mongold squealed with delight as I skated my way down the trail. I can't blame him. It was as if I were wearing banana peels on my feet in a comedy routine.

Additional Features Some Might Like

Asymmetrical lacing that supposedly makes it a good fit for both wide and narrow forefeet. [Anyone want to comment on that?]
A BioMoGo midsole that biodegrades faster than other midsoles, but well after the shoe's useful lifespan.
Recycled laces.
An sockliner (i.e., insole) featuring the Western States 100 course. It's a neat tribute to the course and Scott Jurek, but I have to admit I chuckled when I first saw it. It was partially a laugh at myself, because who else would notice that the sockliner features the current WS100 course, while touting Scott's impressive time on the easier fire re-routed course.

The colorful version of the women's Cascadia 4

Overall

There is no greater praise that a trail running shoe reviewer can give a shoe than to wear it out. For the past half a year, the Brooks Cascadia 4 has seen the bulk of my trail miles and a decent number of my road miles. It was the shoe I chose to wear for the Leadville 100. Today, I logged another 10.5 miles in it over a mix of paved and dirt roads in stormy conditions. Sadly, my pair will soon have to be retired.... long after that retirement was due!

Call for Feedback on the Cascadia 4
If you've hit the trails in the Cascadia 4, please leave a comment to let us know what you think!

[Disclosure: Brooks provided a free sample pair of the Cascadia 4. Also, links to Amazon in this post are part of an affiliate program that helps support iRunFar.com]

Me tidying up my Brooks Cascadia 4 during the Leadville 100

Brooks Cascadia 5 Preview
Why mess with a good thing? That's apparently Brooks's attitude with the current Cascadia design as the Cascadia 5, likely out in February 2010, will see only some minor changes to the upper. For one, the mesh will be more open to make the shoe more breathable and drain water more easily. (Should be a welcome improvement, so long as the mesh doesn't let in too much dust or debris.) Second, Brooks has supposedly improved the laces. (I'm happy to report that I haven't seen any problems with the laces in the Cascadia 4.) Brooks also worked at better locking down the foot in the midfoot area. (Again, I've not had any problems there.) Finally, Brooks updated the shoe colors. The men look to have choice between a black model with light blue highlights and a yellow and black model that's a bit more subdued than the Cascadia 4. The women will have a Cascadia 5 with a nice gray upper with light blue detailing.

The Brooks Cascadia 5 (men's up high, women's below)

iRunFar Reader Survey (And Contest!)

2009-10-12T07:00:00.006-04:00

iRunFar readers old and new, while we always aim to do our best at providing you with quality trail running and ultrarunning content, we know we can do better.... but we need your help to do it. That's why we're asking new trail runners and veteran ultrarunners alike to please help us "dial in" our content, format, and features by taking our iRunFar Improvement Survey. Everyone who completes the survey will be eligible to win a pair of shoes that they can "dial in" in the form of a pair of Vasque Aether Tech or Aether Tech SS shoes.

Update 10/12 9 p.m. Wow! We are so thankful that so many folks have already taken the survey. We're searching out gear stash for additional prizes for those who complete the survey. First up, a Vasque Project micro-adjustable hat that features Boa lacing system.

Update 11/4 A big thank you to everyone who completed the iRunFar improvement survey. In the end, nearly 250 readers chipped in to make iRunFar.com even better. For taking the survey, AK Worm from Anchorage, Alaska will received a pair of Vasque Aether Techs with Boa lacing, while Mark Z from Nashville, Tennessee won the Boa-powered hat.

For those looking for a bit of iRunFar trivia, October 14 marks the anniversary of a the fundamental shift in iRunFar history. Prior to October 14, 2007, iRunFar was Bryon Powell's personal running blog. However, thing changed with the publication of the post How to Select a First Ultramarathon on the 14th and the posting of Training for Your First Ultramarathon just a day later. In the subsequent two years, we've tried to make iRunFar.com your source for mud, mountains, miles, and more. Please help us do an even better job of that going forward by taking the survey!

Time on the Trail with Kilian Jornet

2009-10-09T03:43:00.001-04:00

"Hey, Bryon, can you give me a lift back to my car in Tahoe City?" queried Sean Meissner, not long after winning the Lake Tahoe Marathon two Sunday's ago. I quickly replied, "Sure," as I was headed that way to help out with Kilian Jornet's running of the Tahoe Rim Trail as part of his Kilian's Quest series of adventures. A few hours later we pulled into Tahoe City in search of both Sean's car and my hotel. As luck would have it, Sean had parked directly behind the hotel where I'd be staying. Having heard about Kilian's upcoming run on our drive around the lake, Sean decided to stick around for a bit. He would stay for the run "if [the run] excited him during the briefing." I'll save you the suspense, Sean stayed and we all had one heck of a time helping a tiny Catalan run around a really big lake.

Sean Meissner after winning the Lake Tahoe Marathon

A Meeting By The Lake
Not long after arriving in Tahoe City, the full team assembled in the hotel parking lot and wandered across the street to a promenade along the shores of Lake Tahoe. On a warm day under blue skies, El Gino from the French Salomon contingent welcomed those assembled to Tahoe. Adam Chase was up next with a description of how pacers would be used for Kilian's run of the Tahoe Rim Trail. That was followed by many of the group on hand - Salomon folks, media, and pacers - introducing themselves. Finally, it was time for the good stuff - planning the pacing effort.

Maps were collected, laid out on the ground, and pieced together. With Adam on the lead, Kilian giving his take, and local Ross McMahan sharing his knowledge, the pacing plan moved forward. All were welcome in the discussion. It was quite cool to see so many trail savvy folks put their minds together to hatch a plan that would best help Kilian in his effort. I must say the result was brilliant save for the choice of the leadoff pacer - me.

Kilian explaining his plan for the Tahoe Rim Trail

You see, we jumped in with figuring out who would take on the big pacing sections late on the first day. After some discussion, it was decided that I would pace from Spooner Summit (mile 60) to Kingsbury South (mile 76) and that Ross would run with Kilian from Kingsbury (mile 76) to Big Meadow (mile 99). From there, we worked backwards to see who would run each of the shorter beginning legs. The big logic problem ended with me pacing from the word "go."

Kilian standing over a map of Lake Tahoe in his Salomon Reelax

Start to Painted Rocks
Fast forward to 5 a.m. Monday morning. No, take two steps back. It's about 12:15 a.m. Monday when I hit publish on a post updating everyone on the final plan for Kilian's Quest - Tahoe. Follow that with an unplanned, nervous wake up at 3:38, a snooze alarm at 4 a.m. even, and a final wake up at 4:15. I quickly get ready and pack up my belongings as we'll be spending the following evening in South Tahoe.

Upon arriving at the start area, I go find the folks with the GPS unit I'm to wear, put on the pack, and don my Petzl Ultra headlamp. All ready to go, I wander over toward Kilian. Others at the start jokingly comment, "Are you nervous?" Damn right I am!

As we all wait for 5 a.m., I give a few comments to the camera crew and then meet up with Kilian for our first real chat. Staying on task, we talk about who will lead - he will - and what sort of pace he intends to run at the start - "easy." We wander to the "line."

With what felt like little fanfare, we were off. Kilian and I ran side by side down the road and across the highway. The effort was easy... and then we hit a hill. In an instant, I was huffing and puffing. Panic set in as we climbed the short road section.

We hit the trail and in an instant my lungs ready to explode... most likely to be ignited from the burn that engulfed my legs. To make matters worse, a film crew jumped in the gap between Kilian and I at the trailhead. With a camera at his back, Kilian shifted into another gear. The chasm between KJ and I spread with every second that the camera crew separated us. By the time they peeled off into the brush, the gulf had grown large enough that I was unsure I could bridge it in my pre-dawn rigor mortis. On a switchback Kilian patiently eyed me from above and eased off the gas. This was the first of many instances where I felt like Kilian had to slow to wait for me, the one who was supposed to help him cover the trail more quickly. Some help I was!

A few minutes after one of the times Kilian lets me catch up on the first climb he asks, "Do you run short races?" I'm sure that he was merely trying to spark conversation, but he couldn't have asked a more telling question. "No, I run ultras," was my terse, concessionary response.

Upon hitting the top of the first big climb, Kilian pointed out what he said was a beautiful overlook during the day (he'd run this section before). I suggested that we sit there for an hour until the sun rose. He declined my suggestion. "Darn!" I thought to myself. I was badly in need of a rest.

After this peak, the trail incorporated more flats and short descents. I was thankful for two reasons. First, I could manage to keep up reasonably well on these sections. Second, Kilian and I were able to strike up conversation. We mostly chatted about various US races (Western States, Hardrock, and Badwater), as well as a few of the top American ultrarunners.

I also tried to shoot some video and take photos of Mr. Jornet in early morning action. Let's just say those efforts were a flop... and so was I! I swear every time I tried to capture an image of Kilian I fell. Each time Kilian would stop, turn around, and ask if I was ok. I always responded along the lines of "Yes. Keep going."

What happens when I try to hang with the big dogs!

My frequent falls (three good ones) had many causes. (1) It was pitch black... I'll take that as a convenient excuse. (2) It wasn't even 6 in the morning. I'm not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. (3) I was fiddling around with various cameras. Invariably I fell when shutting down or putting away the camera. Next time I pace someone on a long trail, I pay attention to the trail, stay upright, and attempt not to break my camera... again. (4) Kilian obviously trains for a different sport than I do. That or he and I have VO2Maxs that apparently differ by an order of magnitude.

On the last point, I've never seen anything like Kilian running uphill on this first leg. I didn't understand "mountain running" or "sky running" as a complete separate sport ... until I watched him run. I highly recommend each and every one of you find a top mountain race - be it one of the Skyrunning races in Europe (or America) or the La Sportiva Mountain Cup in the US - and go watch the top runners. It'll be sick and humbling.... and you'll want to run faster. My recent performance at the Leadville 100 caused me to rethink what I was capable of. Watching Kilian made me rethink what humans were capable of and that I'd like to be closer to that human potential.

Ok, back to the narrative. So while I'm suffering en route to the apex of the first climb I keep allaying my fear that Kilian will drop me (as nearly happened within the first mile and then a few times after that) with the thought that I only needed to keep up with him for 5.4 miles. If I could just get him to the road crossing before Painted Rocks I'd be fine. Well, we get to the road crossing and no one is there. Damn! I hadn't checked to see exactly how far it was to the next road crossing, but I knew it was at least a few miles.

Oh man, did I suffer up the 400' of climb in the next mile. The pain was worth it as we hit the top and saw a spectacular Sierra sunrise before cruising another mile and a half down to where the crew was waiting. I can honestly say that it was one of the hardest trail runs I've been on in a long time. Sure it was only 9 miles in 90 minutes, but with 2,000'+ of climb between 6,300' and 7,700' in elevation, it was damn tough. My average heart rate was "only" 159 bpm, but that includes the descents. I spent far too much time at or above 170 bpm... which feels a lot tougher than usual when you're up that high.

Spooner Summit to Kingsbury North Trailhead
After the brutal wake up I experienced on the morning run, this second run only eight and a half hours later was one of the most enjoyable runs of my entire year... and I've had many an enjoyable run. Mr. Jornet and I set off from Spooner Summit in good company. Jayme Moye Otto, a journalist from Boulder, and Devon Sibole, a PR guru, decided to join us on the climb up through the conifers. Not only were we in good company, but the dappled shade and the intermittent breeze distilled from the tree-stifled remnants of the day's gale made for pleasantly cool running on a sun-filled day high in the Sierras.

After a mile of climbing, the ladies bid us adieu. The next four miles were as pure and as tranquil as trail running gets. I know Kilian didn't feel fast on this section, but he was locked into a steady 8k an hour climbing pace that felt just right. We chatted from time to time. Ski mountaineering, Le Tour, and the finer points of Indo-European languages were the topics du jour. We also ran for long periods of silence that were only broken by my offering him a water bottle, him thanking me for it, or either of us pointing out a new spectacular vista as we would round a bend or enter a clearing.

The most joyous of our scenery-based outbursts occured when we hit the rocky, but open Duane Bliss Peak. We must have said "Incredible!" in unison and the view sure was. The sky was clear and the lake choppy with the day's brisk winds. We quickly picked up Emerald Bay from all the way across the lake. Kilian pointed out the Fannette Isle sitting tightly ensconced in the bay. Life sure was good!

Not long after, we came across The Squirrel as we started the descent into the hollow before the small climb to the sections second and final high point below South Camp Peak. The Squirrel, a to-remain-nameless member of Salomon's US operation, was happily sitting atop his mountain bike waiting for us. He had taken off from Spooner Summit about half an hour before us as no one was sure how difficult the climb would be on a bike. (He made it without any problem.) Anyway, The Squirrel was a welcome addition to our small group. His multi-lingual expertise greatly added to the trail chatter while he hung out behind us two runners. The Squirrel did pop ahead of me during one particularly sweet section of trail to film Kilian with a handlebar mounted GoPro cam.

I so wish I hadn't broke my camera (at least for the time being) on my morning run. While the amazing vistas jumped out at me for the first two thirds of this section, I didn't notice them at all during the final miles. The granite dust single-track was true trail porn. It makes me want to come back and run it again and again. The single track snaked just right. Granite boulders walled you in on the uphill side while the other side fell away sharply into a sea of schooner-mast conifers. The stone blocks embedded in the route provided entertainment, not frustration. Excuse me... I think I need a moment....

I was originally scheduled to run the full 16 miles from Spooner Summit to Kingsbury South... that was until I discovered there were 4 miles of pavement between the north and south Kingsbury trailheads. Upon deducing this, I quickly found another, more well-rested runner to spell me on the road stretch. The Squirrel planned roll over to Kingsbury South, as well. Although no relief runner showed up and I felt fine to make the trek over to Kingsbury South, The Squirrel insisted that I stop and catch a ride to save my legs in case I was needed from pacing later in Kilian's journey. I obliged.

Kilian pulling into the Kingsbury South Trailhead with The Squirrel in tow.

Even though I didn't cover the final 4 miles of this stretch with Kilian, I was psyched that he ran the 16 miles from Spooner Summit to Kingsbury South in just under 3 hours... over 2 hours faster than his projected time. Even after an hour spent eating dinner at the "aid station," Kilian left Kingsbury South an hour ahead of his 40 hour schedule.

Kilian raising a glass during his break at Kingsbury South

Ward Creek Road to the Terminus
I was out on the trail with Kilian for the final five miles, but I certainly wasn't pacing him. Not with six of his seven Tahoe Rim Trail pacers out there with him. Well, that was until there were six pacers and The Squirrel on his bike. Of course, that was only until there were NINE runners, The Squirrel, and the star.

Six of Kilian's seven pacers (Ross McMahan is not pictured)
(from l-r: Sean Meissner, Adam Chase, Kevin Johnson,
Josh Korn, Jean-Michel Faure-Vincent, and me)

I'm not sure what we did to help him on this stretch other than shed a little light on the situation. Surely that light was counterbalanced by all the dust kicked up by 10 other folks on the trail. I, however, was having a GREAT time. I started up the trail belting out numerous songs.... all very badly. At other points, I was joking around with the other folks on the trail... and that was when I wasn't snapping photos with my iPhone. Once night fell, I took a video camera from fellow pacer, Sean Meissner, strapped my headlamp to my left wrist, and started filming myself Blair Witch style. I hope I get to see that footage someday!

Sure, it felt like a party on the trails, but the brotherhood that had developed over just three days was omnipresent. Coming together to aid an individual in an adventure like this is an incredible setting to build friendships both on and off the trail. I highly recommend jumping at the chance to help someone with a long trail attempt (record or not) or other personal running undertaking.

Kilian and friends crossing a meadow as twilight fades

Ok, two quick Kilian anecdotes before I wrap up my coverage of Kilian's Quest: Tahoe Rim Trail. The first is that with about half a mile to go Kilian drops the hammer... and everyone who is running with him without warning. He soon drifted back to us, but it surprised the heck out of his entourage. The second happened not long thereafter when, as Kilian approached a low gate, Meissner yelled out "Hurdle it!" After a few more joined in Sean's call, Kilian did, in fact, jump the barrier. I know I held my breath as he went up.

In the end, Kilian smashed Tim Twietmeyer's trail record, but that's not what it was about for Kilian... or for us. It was about the trail and the people and running. Some folks poo-pooed the run as a big European production. While there were photographers and videographers, I can assure you that those who were out there running with Kilian were out there with a sincere love for and, in a way, in homage to trail running. I truly believe that Kilian was, too.

Kilian Jornet after becoming the 967th member of the Tahoe Rim Trail 165-Mile Club.
It took him a mere 38 hours and 32 minutes.

This Week In Running (Week of 10/10 & 10/11)

2009-10-07T06:00:00.001-04:00

With names like Dan Rose, Debra Horn, Connie Gardner, Jill Perry, Annette Bednosky, Serge Arbona, Phil McCarthy, Akos Konya, Scott Jurek, Dave James and Mark Godale participating, there was a tremendous amount of buzz circling the North Coast 24 Hour Endurance run in Cleveland, Ohio, the 2009 US 24 Hour National Championships, and it certainly did not disappoint. We begin this week's edition of This Week in Running with a quick look at how things turned out in Cleveland :

Men
1. Phillip McCarthy (41, New York, NY) 151.51520 miles
2. John Geesler (50, St. Johnsville, NY) 139.40850
3. Dan Rose (32, Washington, DC) 139.28270

Women
1. Jill Perry (38, Manilus, NY) 136.32855 miles
2. Anna Piskorska (37, Blandon, PA) 132.26550
3. Debra Horn (50, Shaker Heights, OH) 128.93335

Also taking place last weekend was the Grindstone 100 in Swoope, Virginia. Adding to his list of 2009 accomplishments, Karl Meltzer took top honors by nearly 3 hours, and Donna Utakis won by a similar margin in taking first for the women.

Men
1. Karl Meltzer (18:46:26)
2. Chris Reed (21:26:34)
T-3. Todd Walker (22:09:54)
T-3. Mike Mason (22:09:54)

Women
1. Donna Utakis (23:34:59)
2. Elizabeth Carrion (26:20:02)
3. Kim Gimenez (26:44:53)

Congratulations to the winners and all of the participants !

Moving on to what lies ahead, let's take a look at some of the events scheduled to take place the weekend of Saturday, October 10 and Sunday, October 11, 2009.

We begin a bit out of the ordinary, with an event that drew our attention to it simply by its liquor-like name. The Bourbon Chase 200-Mile Relay, starting near Bardstown, Kentucky (the Bourbon Capital of the World) and finishing in downtown Lexington (the Horse Capital of the World), is run on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail, a trail that links the state's legendary distilleries.

The first relay team sets off near the Jim Beam American Outpost & Homestead at 8:00 AM. For the next 12 hours, a new set of teams are sent on their way every 15 minutes. Teams are comprised of anywhere from 6 to 12 runners, each covering three legs of distances varying from 3 to 7 miles. Just in case you are wondering, no, shots of bourbon will NOT be given out at every distillery passed along the route - "first, safety is our number one concern out on the course....second, we promise there will be plenty of bourbon on hand before and after the race....third, good Kentucky bourbon is best savored slowly."

Unforgiving. Historic. Gnarly. Those are the words used to describe the inaugural Oil Creek 100 Trail Run at Oil Creek State Park in Oil City, Pennsylvania (50k and 50 mile also). With a total of 17,785 feet of elevation gain and a 32 hour time limit, the 100-miler is run on about 87 miles of single-track trail, a short amount of dirt road, and 13 miles of asphalt. Historic...it sure is.

One example - Runners will pass the historic site of the Boughton Acid Works on the "headed home" loop and use the suspension bridge over Oil Creek that the citizens of Boughton used in the 1860's to return home from the acid works. Across the bridge runners can view the ruins where workers used sulfuric acid to refine oil from the wells (it looks like a scene of a fire, but it is actually the result of sulfuric acid from the old refineries leached into the soil, leaving the area barren.

The Heartland 100 Mile (and 50 Mile) kicks off on October 10 in Cassoday, Kansas. The course takes runners through some of the last remaining tallgrass prairie in the United States. Tallgrass prairie once covered over 400,000 square miles of North America, stretching from Ohio to the Rocky Mountains and from Texas to Canada. Today less than one percent of this ecosystem remains, and most of it is in an area of Kansas known as Flint Hills. Much of the Heartland 100 course meanders through open range and offers views of the vast expanse of the tallgrass prairie.

Greenbush, Wisconsin hosts the 23rd annual Glacial Trail Run (50 mile and 50k) on Sunday, October 11. Both race courses follow the Ice Age Trail in the northern unit of the Wisconsin Kettle Moraine State Forest. The trails consist of rolling hills with some rocks and other "normal" trail obstacles. The course is an out-and-back with a short section of road at the start to get to the trail. The 50-mile has a 12-hour cutoff, and the 50k a 10-hour cutoff.

There are plenty of other events taking place this weekend, including the John Holmes 50k Trial Run (Brooksville, FL), the Dick Collins Firetrails 50 Mile (Castro Valley, CA), the Can Lake 50 (Canandaigua, NY), the Le Grizz 50 Mile (Spotted Bear/Hungry Horse, MT), and the Andiamo W&OD 45 Mile Run (Purcellville, VA). You can, of course, click on any of the above events to visit its web-site for more information.

That will wrap things up for this week. Make sure to stop by next Wednesday for another edition of TWIR. Until then, Happy Running !

A Marathoner's Experience as an Ultramarathon Coach

2009-10-06T06:00:00.000-04:00

“What is your favorite 50 miler and what inspires you to keep doing them?” This was a question that I was asked on the pre-race panel at the North Face Endurance Challenge, just outside of Washington, DC. As a newbie to the ultra-scene, I had never raced anything above a marathon (and still haven’t). I responded that I had never felt so “not hardcore saying that I was only a marathon runner.”

You are probably wondering what on earth I was doing on this panel. I was the coach of the North Face Endurance Challenge program in Washington, DC. I coached the 10k, half marathon, 50k, and 50-mile programs on behalf of The North Face. Being a competitive marathon runner and former cross country runner, the 10k through the 50k was like second nature to me, but the 50-mile race, that was a new beast entirely.

I had a committed, all male group attempting the 50 miler. Many of the runners were fairly new to the running scene, and none had ever completed a 50 miler before. Thus, not only did they have to train to be able to complete the race, but they had to learn to run while carry hydration packs, absorb new information about nutrition, and learn to run on challenging, technical terrain as would be the terrain on the race course. The athletes took this on with an abundant amount of enthusiasm, and luckily with the support of ultra runners Michael Wardian and George Banker who made themselves open to supporting the team. Hence, the athletes had access to the best resources, and made use of them.

Arriving on race morning at 4 a.m., I was struck by how relaxed everyone seemed. It was a stark contrast to the road marathons that I am used to racing in. Fifteen minutes before race start when the announcements started, participants were still milling around and catching-up with each other, whereas in a road race, people would have been lined up for half an hour already. The gun went off and the athletes started. I was touched by the amount of camaraderie during the race, with athletes working together and helping each other through the hard miles.

I think what struck me the most was the finish. Almost everyone came through smiling, even after 50 miles of racing. This is something that I rarely see at a road race. I learned that ultra-running is more than just a race. It is about building a community and connecting with the other athletes out on the trail. It is more than just about you and your race, but how you can leverage the relationships built on the trails to help you finish. I was happy to see that my athletes made new friends while racing, and had a truly great time completing the race.

My 50k runners and me on race morning

All of my athletes finished with smiles on their faces and had completed what they set out to accomplish, which was to get their first ultra-marathon under their belts. I think they absorbed and embraced ultra-culture full heartily and are looking forward to running another one. As for me, I think an ultra-marathon is definitely in my future, but first, I need to accomplish what I need to accomplish my marathon and shorter race distance goals, because from what I observed on race day, once you become an ultra-runner, there is no turning back.
Questions

What struck you most when you were first introduced to trail running or ultramarathons and the communities that surround them?
How have you felt if and when you have guided others into trail running or ultrarunning?

The Leadville 100: A First for Ken Fries

2009-10-05T14:35:00.007-04:00

[After sharing two Top-10 Leadville 100 accounts with iRunFar readers (Garett Graubins's and mine - Part 1 & Part 2), we thought we'd share the story of Ken Fries, a first time 100-mile finisher who finished in the final hour before the 30-hour off. This 42 year old from Austin, Texas found the race far harder than anticipated. Read his story.]

I'm writing this about a week after the Leadville 100 trail run. This was my first 100 mile run and it proved to be an amazing experience. I have been asked a lot of questions this past week, one of which is if it was as hard as I had anticipated. The answer to that question is an unequivocal NO. NO it was not AS hard as I had anticipated, it was WAY HARDER! So here is my perspective over 100 miles in the mountains of Colorado.

Before I begin, let me introduce you to the crew. Jason and I had separated crews; although we shared people and all worked together over the next 29 hours. My crew consisted of my brother Adam (his wife Meredith also helped), a really good friend Toby (formally of Austin but now lives in Denver), and my wonderful wife Kate. Jason’s crew was our training buddy extraordinaire Kirk, Cindy S, John P (both good friends from Austin) and Jason’s wife Angie.

Ken, Kate, Jason, and Adam shortly before the start

Two-thirty a.m. came pretty quick on Saturday morning as the multiple alarms and wake-up calls began. I had two alarms set and a wake-up call scheduled for race morning. And although I got a few hours of off-and-on sleep through the night, the alarms were merely a formality. I was wide awake by 2 a.m. and just lay in bed trying not to wake Kate as I watched the minutes click off the digital clock. Finally, it was OK to get up. The wake-up call came and I shot out of bed, glad the restless night was over. I showered to help me feel fresh, went downstairs and got a cup of coffee, made my instant oatmeal, and peeled a banana for my morning breakfast. At 2:45, I knocked on Adam’s hotel door to wake him, and went back to the room to eat, drink, and chat with Kate. I put on my race clothing, Jason called and was on his way, and Adam was coming into the room for the last minute instructions. At about 3:15 a.m., Jason rolled in with another cup of coffee for me and we began to head down to the parking lot for the short drive to downtown Leadville where the race would start.

[Check out a pre-race and start video of Ken.]

Leadville to May Queen (miles 0-13.5)
The starting line was a bit surreal. At the starting line there were a little over 500 people lined up. The atmosphere was very exciting with all the headlights, the crisp air, the seas of crew people watching their runners. Jason and I found a place toward the front of the pack and settled in for the announcer to send us off. The gun finally went off after what seemed forever and we were off. I remember thinking how bizarre it was to run over the starting line knowing I would not see this place again for somewhere between 25 and 30 hours.

We started down the long gradual descent and a couple times Jason warned me, "Slow down." The excitement and the downhill 4.5 to 5 miles make it really easy to get carried away and get running too fast. It wasn’t long before we had covered the 5 or so miles and started on the single track that goes around Turquoise Lake. I was feeling pretty good at this point, but I had eaten too much the day before and was feeling that really full feeling that is not conducive to running. My nutrition plan consisted of eating about 250 calories an hour in the form of a “magical” cookie (cookie that Meredith Terranova, my nutritionist, recommends for long, long runs). I was also wearing an Ultimate Direction hydration pack for water, taking electrolyte caps every hour, and drinking a mixture in a hand-held water bottle that had about 330 calories in each refill.

I had my watch set to beep every hour to remind me to take electrolytes and to eat a cookie. The first hour beep came and I was still so full from the day before that I did not eat at all. I did take an electrolyte pill and was drinking my liquid calories from my handheld. Then it happened. I was running along this beautiful trail with feeling pretty decent, the air was crisp the day was off to a fine start and then BAM! I was rolling on the ground. The first fall of the day and I had gotten it over with early. I got up, dusted off my knees, checked for any protruding bones, checked for blood, and was off again having not discovered anything too bad.

Jason and I laughed about how soon I had fallen and joked about getting the first fall over with. We were in a really nice relaxed pace and the trail was rolling very gently as we skirted the lake. The sun was beginning to rise and the light revealed this beautiful mountain lake to our left. As the beauty of the scenery was sinking in I had a first row seat to Jason’s first fall. BAM! He, too, took a roller which shot his water bottle off his hand and he laid there for a brief second. He got up, dusted off, checked for the usual things and was off. We again laughed about both of us falling in the first 2 hours of the run.

My watch beeped again indicating the second hour of our journey was complete. I took more electrolyte pills and, this time, I also was able to eat my cookie. Being able to eat a little was a good sign. The single track dumped us out onto a road and we were minutes from the first aid station – May Queen. We pulled up into May Queen at about 2 hours and 15 minutes into the run and there were Kate, Toby, and Adam scrambling to get us refilled and reloaded with calories. It was funny to see the urgency on their faces. The crew was scrambling like an Indy 500 pit crew. We laughed, and I said in the calmest voice I could muster, "Relax. It's OK. Everyone settle down." I will tell you this though; it was good to see the crew.

[Ken's crew footage of the May Queen and Twin Lakes aid stations.]

May Queen to Fish Hatchery (miles 13.5 – 23.5)
Jason and I were off from May Queen and were immediately shot onto some technical single track. Pretty quickly after hitting the single track we started to climb. After about 2 miles we were spit out onto a jeep road which I know was the back side of Sugar Loaf Pass. We both shed our long sleeves, gloves and hat and started up the pass. This pass was pretty gentle going outbound. We both made the comment to each other, “Wow, that was no big deal.”

On this section we had come up upon a couple of Austinites, Joseph M and Jamie C. It was good to see other Austin athletes on the course. Joseph made the comment that he thought Austin had more athletes than any other “non-mountain” town. I bet he was right.

The back side of Sugarloaf Pass (Powerlines) was steep and we ran this section pretty fast, but kept our energy output somewhat consistent. In this section we let gravity do its work. I had eaten my cookies, taken my pills, and was still drinking my handheld with the calorie mixture. The sky was as big and blue as you have ever seen. It was a beautiful day in the mountains of Colorado and the endorphins had kicked in.

We hit a road and soon arrived at Fish Hatchery. With twenty-three miles under our belt, I remember thinking, “Wow, we’re just about at marathon distance.” The crew was doing a fantastic job and the earlier urgency in the form of near panic had changed to a nice intentional forward motion and the sort of banter that we heard in the 7th grade (but are still funny) by all members. This was also the first time we got to see Cindy and John. It was good to see our family and friends from Austin out to support us.

Ken and Jason leaving Fish Hatchery

Fish Hatchery to Pipeline (miles 23 – 30.5)
We left Fish Hatchery and hit the long asphalt road section. This section is about 3.5 miles. It was getting pretty hot; I was feeling the high mountain sun during this section. About half-way between Fish Hatchery and Pipeline there is an unofficial aid station, which is really just a place that the crew can access the runners again. I started feeling a bit nauseous on this section. I was beginning to have trouble eating my cookies already. I knew the time would come when I would be really tired of the cookies, but this was different. I wasn’t tired of eating them I just couldn’t put anything in my mouth without gagging. My stomach was hurting and I just felt off. I continued drinking my handheld and taking my electrolytes, but now I was having trouble getting any other calories into my body. I knew this was not a good sign.

I kept thinking of the words of Meredith T, nutritionist and accomplished ultra runner, when she would tell Jason and me over and over that ultrarunning is about problem solving. One of her last emails to us said, “It’s not a matter of IF something is going to happen, but WHEN something” out of the ordinary will happen. I pushed that thought out of my mind for a while and hoped that I would begin to feel better.

We pulled into Treeline, which is nothing more than a dirt road that the crew can pull their cars into, and found the crew. They had made me a turkey sandwich and I took that for the road. We kept moving and I hoped the turkey sandwich would help me feel better. We continued running toward Pipeline and I tried to eat some of the sandwich. I put part of it in my mouth and immediately started gagging. I tried again. Same result. Shit, I couldn’t eat. I was in trouble. I again heard Meredith’s words, “problem solve, problem solve.” I told Jason at this point, “Jason, I am in trouble. I can’t eat.” We continued running.

We pulled into Pipeline and a nice man grabbed my water bottle began refilling and added the powder that I handed him to mix in the bottle. I was not able to eat, but I was still taking my electrolytes and drinking the caloric mixture from my handheld. I had long before asked Jason to stuff the turkey sandwich into my hydration pack and had given up on attempting to eat that. At the Pipeline aid station the crews don’t have access, so we were in and out pretty quickly.

Pipeline to Twin Lakes (miles 30.5 – 40)
I grabbed a PB&J sandwich from the aid station and headed out. I took a bite of the PB&J and immediately gagged it up, also. Shit! I stopped on the trail, thinking if I just stopped then maybe I could eat. I was able to get down about a bit of the sandwich. I was off again and caught Jason pretty quickly.

Again the words “problem solve” rang through my head. I was feeling more and more nauseous all the time. What the hell am I going to do, I thought. I wasn’t sure what I WAS going to do, but I knew what I WASN’T going to do. I was not going to stop, no matter what. I remember thinking if I get pulled from the course it will be on a stretcher because I will not stop no matter what. I was bound and determined to figure this problem out. I did not get up at 2, 3, and 4 in the morning for the last 6 weeks to not finish this race. And, if I didn’t finishi I was not going out easily.

The miles clicked by and I remembered how good the plain water from my hydration pack tasted. It occurred to me to stop drinking my handheld for a while and see how I felt. After about an hour of not drinking the solution from my handheld, I was beginning to feel better.

The course was beautiful singletrack with fantastic view in every direction. This section of the course had some minor climbs and descents while rolling along through tall pines. At one point my watch beeped again and after not drinking the handheld I was finally able to get down a cookie. Holy Cow, 250 calories! I was ecstatic, I ran up to Jason and exclaimed, “I ate, I ate!” I continued, “It’s the mixture in my bottle that's making me sick.” I decided not to take in any more of this mixture. I would supplement with more electrolyte pills to replace the sodium I was not going to get through the mixture and I would then, I hoped, be able to get more calories at the aid stations and through my cookies.

The last few miles of this section drop about 1200 feet. Jason and I bombed down this section and very quickly found ourselves at Twin Lakes. We had just covered the first 40 miles of the race and completed phase one of our race plan. I was pretty tired, my nutrition was way off, and I was hot. I came into the aid station and Kate immediately put a cool towel over my head. I walked into the aid station check-in and then the crew led me to the chairs they had set up. The plan was to take our first significant rest here, as after this we had to go up and over Hope Pass TWICE on this out and back course.

I remember being a little confused for some reason when I came into the aid station. I was not thinking very clearly and, walking back to the chairs, I looked into Kate’s eyes. I am still not sure what happened, but I was completely overcome with emotion. I began to sob under the towel.

I recall thinking this is way, way, way harder than I had anticipated and I knew I was not in the best of condition after the morning hours. I sat in the chair and put my head into my hands and tried to compose myself. I looked around at the crew around me. I thought how unselfish it was for so many people to waiting on me hand and foot. I thought about the friends and family at home watching our progress. I saw Angie, Jason’s wife, and his mom and they were taking care of him in a chair next to me. I was trying to eat. I was telling the crew no more mix in the handheld. I was putting Chapstick on, while Kate was putting sun screen on me. Toby was refilling my water bottle. Adam was refilling my hydration pack. I saw him pull out the turkey sandwich that I couldn’t eat from earlier. I saw the concern on his face when he saw one bite gone. I saw the worry and fear in the eyes of everyone around me. All this fear and concern was directed at me. I looked up and I knew I was in bad shape, and I knew they knew it, too. I was an emotional wreck.

John Peck stood over me, I looked up at him and he said, “It’s time to go.” No, No, No that is not the plan. The plan was to stay here for about 10 minutes. It’s only been 3 or 4. It’s not time to leave yet, I thought. He insisted. I felt myself getting up and I began moving. Before I left I looked again at Kate and saw the concern in her eyes. I looked right into her eyes trying to reassure her, but I did not have the strength in me at this point to communicate this. We ran out of the aid station toward Hope Pass.

Jason and Ken at Twin Lakes

Twin Lakes – Winfield (miles 40 – 50)
Leaving Twin Lakes there is about a mile of flat with a river crossing before you get to the beginning of the climb up Hope Pass. Jason looked at me somewhere along this mile and said, “I had to get out of there (meaning Twin Lakes) I was getting too emotional.” I was shocked when he said this. I laughed and told him about my experience in Twin Lakes. We both laughed a little and kept moving forward.

The climb started and we settled into a nice power walking rhythm up and up and up and up. Here the climb is about 3,500 ft over about 3.5 miles. We had figured it would take us about 3.5 hours to get up and over the pass. But as time went on our place slowed and our heart rates where off the chart. I was trying not to go anaerobic, but this required a snail’s pace.

We climbed and climbed and climbed. I was able to eat again, so this was encouraging, but I thought to myself, "Does this F'ing climb every end?!" We stopped and sat twice, I think. Jason looked at me several times and said, “Fuck, this is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.” I agreed! I had to dig deep to keep putting on foot in front of the other.

My heart rate was sky high, the pace was very slow, and time seemed to stand still. The further we got up the pass, the slower the pace became. When we broke treeline I remember thinking, "OK , this is about 11,000 ft (treeline in this part of the world) and we still have 1,600 ft to climb after this." I was able to eat and take my electrolytes, so this was some consolation to me in that I had solved the first problem that had occurred on this run. I put one foot in front of the other time-after-time and slowly, slowly, slowly moved forward.

There is an aid station about 500 ft below the summit called Hopeless aid station. This is a group of people that bring up supplies by way of lllamas. As we traversed this trail above treeline, I finally saw a beautiful sight – lllamas and tents and movement up ahead. I told Jason, “We are almost at Hopeless. Come on, baby, come on!”

We pulled into Hopeless and were swamped with volunteers refilling water bottles, offering assistance, food, or anything they could do for us at all. I got a cup of ramen noodles and sat down for a minute. I looked back in the direction we had come from and, WOW, what a view. I could see Leadville way off in the distance. I could see Turquoise Lake and then a little closer Twin Lakes. The sky was a brilliant blue and not a cloud in sight. I was sitting at 12,000 ft having just covered about 45 miles and the world was whole again. I was tired, but in a satisfied way - the way you feel when you have just accomplished something that was so hard you wanted to quit. I never really wanted to quit, but there were times on that climb when I thought I just can’t move another step for a while.

We left Hopeless and climbed the remaining 500 ft, which also seemed like an eternity, but before I knew it I was heading down the back side. The back side of Hope Pass outbound is shorter. It's just about 2.25 miles, but you descend 2,100 ft over a very steep trail. Parts of this trail are reported to be on about a 21% grade. Translation – Steep as shit! The descent from the pass puts you out on a dusty dirt road about 2 miles from Winfield. Going into Winfield this is a gradual uphill that also seems to go on forever.

I was feeling much better than I did at Twin Lakes and my spirits were up because we had almost completed half of what some call the toughest 20 miles in ultra running. I don’t know if this is true, but to this point it was the hardest and deepest I have EVER had to dig physically.

As good as I was feeling at this point, Jason was feeling really bad. Jason and I had talked in the weeks prior and understood that there is no waiting for each other. During the race, it is every man for himself. Jason was falling back and I did wait a few times on this stretch. I was very worried about him, because he said to me several times he didn’t think he could make it back up and over the Pass. I assured him he could, but when you’re that low words don’t help much. I tried to raise his spirits, but he was really down and not feeling good at all. He said several time for me to go on and not wait. After a bit, I told him I was going ahead into Winfield and I would see him at the aid station. We shared this road with crew vehicles and it was dusty, dusty, dusty.

Finally, Winfield was in view and I picked up the pace for a bit. I ran into the aid station and was immediately directed into the medical tent for inspection. A doctor put me on a scale, got my weight and compared that to the weight on my mandatory medical arm band. I had lost 4 lbs; not too bad. I then went out and Kate, Adam, Toby, John, and Cindy directed me to the area that the crews had set up. I let them know that Jason was in pretty bad shape, but that he was not far behind.

Kate and Ken at Winfield

The crew put me in a chair and went to work. I was joking and having fun now and this put everyone at ease. The last time they saw me I was in really bad shape. They were very glad to see that a 12,600 ft pass and 10 miles can make one feel much better! But the truth is I was able to eat again and the calories make such a big difference. This is also the first time we could take on pacers, and Cindy and Kirk were there waiting to go back over the pass with us. It was good to see Kirk at this point, too. He was going to run the entire 50 miles back with Jason. Kirk had done a lot of training with us and we had become good friends. We all exchanged some jokes and laughed. We ate some food and got resupplied.

I can’t say it enough, nor can I express how important and what a big job our friends and family all played in this race. Jason was eating and getting some nutrition, too. At the weigh-in he had lost 14 lbs! This is a lot of weight to lose and he had to get some of that back to be able to get though the night that was ahead of us. It had taken us over 4 hours to get up and over the pass, which was way longer than we had anticipated.

It was now just after 4 in the afternoon and we had been going for over 12 hours. I knew that it was going to get dark at about 8:30. And if it took us the same about of time to get back to Twin Lakes as it did to make the first crossing we might get caught on the pass in the dark. We had planned on getting our headlamps at Twin Lakes but now I knew we might need them before. To get caught on Hope Pass without a light in the dark would be a bad mistake. I told my and Jason’s crews to get the lights. There was a little scrambling with the change in plans, but everyone finally got their light and we were up and out of Winfield.

[Ken's stop at the Winfield aid station on video.]

Jason was still not feeling the best and he told me several time to leave him. I know what I had agreed to in the previous weeks, but I was not going to leave him now. I was not going to leave him without knowing that he got back up and over the pass. I figured that once we got up and over the pass for the second time this would be a huge turning point in the race. We would have covered the most physically demanding part of the course and would have completed the second phase of our race plan. We jogged back down the dirt road.

Winfield to Twin Lakes (miles 50 – 60)
The gradual downhill over 2 miles ended and we were back on the single track again heading up to 12,600 feet. The trail on this side is very, very steep in most places. Kirk and Cindy were ruthless with Jason about taking more and more electrolyte tabs and drinking water. I thought he was going to snap. They were on him constantly about taking salts and water. I got into a rhythm, while Kirk and Cindy stayed back with Jason.

Kirk and I climbed and climbed and after about an hour he would tell me to just focus on the next turn. He would say, just make it to the next turn. I would focus on the turn in the switch back and just power to it. I would make the turn, rest for a second and then focus on the next turn. This went on for a few hours, but eventually we broke above tree line again. "One foot in front of the other," "Relentless forward progress," "Don’t quit no matter what," were the mantras that ran though my head over and over again. I was focused and I thought about the words of my coach Steve, “If you quit, make them take you off the mountain in an ambulance.” I was not going to stop moving forward, I was as determined as I have ever been in my entire life.

The top of the pass came and again the views where fantastic. The air had a bit of a chill in it now and the sun was getting lower in the sky. Kirk and I went down to the Hopeless aid station where we got some nutrition and waited a very short time for Jason and Cindy. Before I knew it we were on the way down.

After about 10 to 15 minutes my legs changed from climbing to descending and I felt really good. I thought to myself I want to get down off this mountain. I began to push the pace pretty hard. With Cindy in tow, we flew past Jason and Kirk. They both jumped on the train and we all pushed letting gravity do its work. Three and a half miles of bombing down, down, down. At one point we passed Jamie C, a local (Austin) professional triathlete. He had blown his IT band. We stopped for a moment and lamented his circumstances. I am only acquainted with Jamie, but was bummed nonetheless for him. Closer to the bottom of the descent, we also ran across Cindy H, who is also a friend of ours from Austin. She was moving well and said she was saving her legs for the last 40 miles.

With about a mile to go to the aid station, we sent Kirk ahead to let the crews know that we would be pulling back into Twin Lakes very shortly. Twin Lakes came into view and as we ran up the little dirt road to the aid station, Cindy S (our crew and pacer), who had earlier said she had something to show us at the top of the pass, pulled about 20 feet in front of us, stopped, dropped her pants, and mooned us revealing the words “you rock” written across her butt. We laughed.

[Video of Ken at Twin Lakes inbound.]

Twin Lakes to Pipeline (miles 60 – 69)
Once leaving Twin Lakes, I knew that we had just completed phase two of the race plan. The first part of the plan was Leadville to Twin Lakes (40 miles), Twin Lakes to Winfield and back to Twin Lakes including Hope Pass twice (20 miles), and now the final phase which was miles 60 to 100. Toby was going to pace me for the next 14ish miles to Treeline (halfway between Pipeline and Fish Hatchery). This was also the time to prepare for the night ahead. We had made it back over the pass in about 3.5 hours, much faster than the first trip over, but the time was now close to 8:30 pm. We had been going for 16.5 hours now and night was falling.

Toby and I left just behind Jason and Kirk. It started to sprinkle on us a bit and we all stopped and put on our rain shells. After about 10 minutes, the sprinkles stopped and I was hot again. Outbound, the way into Twin Lakes was a quick descent. Now that same descent was a 1,200 foot climb. Toby was fantastic company and we continued moving forward through the night. Off in the distance we could see lightning and hear faint thunder. Looking back down the trail we could see head lamps snaking their way up over trail we had just covered. We could also look back into the field between the Twin Lakes and the beginning of the climb on Hope Pass and see more headlamps making their way through the darkness.

I felt some rocks in my shoes and kept trying to move them around without taking my shoes off. One foot was hurting pretty bad, but I didn’t want to stop and get the rocks out. Jason and Kirk were moving pretty fast over this section and I found that my feet were hurting so much that I could not keep up with Jason and Kirk at this point. I didn’t think much of it because I figured we would catch them at some point down the road a little. This was the first time in the race that Jason and I split up. At the time I never thought I would not see him and Kirk again until the finish line.

Toby and I ran the downhills, shuffled the flats and, power walked the ups. We arrived at Pipeline at about 10:45 p.m. At this point the rocks in my shoes were really hurting my feet. I also realized I had not been eating much over the last few hours and this too made me nervous. Toby got me several cups of watermelon, which tasted really good at this point, and I took off my shoes to get the damn rocks out. I dusted off the bottom of my socks and emptied my shoes. I put both shoes back on, retied the laces, and ate a little more watermelon.

Realizing I was not eating much now and that the watermelon was going down so easily, I took advantage of eating as much as I could. While I ate, I noticed a white board next to me. It said, “Pipeline cut-off 12:45. Fish Hatchery cut-off 3:00a.m. Congratulations, you have just covered 69.5 miles." This was the first time in the race that the enormity of the distance hit me. I thought "Holy shit! 69.5 miles. Wow! That is a long, long way!"

With the rocks out of my shoes and some nutrition, however inadequate, I was ready to keep moving. That stop was about 3 or 4 minutes and the next stop would be in 3.5 miles at Treeline where I would again see the crew.

Pipeline to Fish Hatchery (miles 69.5 – 76.5)
Within minutes after leaving Pipeline I felt those damn rocks again. "Damn!" I thought to myself as I continued to move forward. Soon we came across a woman laying in the trail in the fetal position vomiting. There was a man standing there with her and we offered assistance, but he said he was going to take her back into the Pipeline aid station. We continued.

The rocks hurt my feet more and more all the time. It was about 11 p.m. now and my calories were way too low and I knew it. My pace had really slowed since it hurt so bad to run to fast on the downhills. I was heading back down into the dumps and I knew it. Over the next 3.5 miles Toby did a fantastic job talking and passing the time, but I was quickly losing energy and the pain in my feet was getting worse and worse. I thought to myself that the rocks must have somehow gotten into my socks. I thought, "At Treeline, I will change socks."

Toby and I finally got to Treeline where the crew was waiting. It was about midnight now and I began to worry that I was becoming in danger of not making the 30 hour cut-off for the finish. I began to ask people at Treeline if I was in danger of not making it to the finish before the time cut-off. Everyone was saying I was in good shape, time wise, but I didn’t believe any of them. They tried to get me to eat some real food, but I just couldn’t get anything down. Angie handed me some grapes and I was able to eat them. he then made me a sandwich baggie of grapes for the road.

John was my pacer now. I changed socks and as Kate and Cindy looked at the bottom of my feet what became obvious is that the rocks were not rocks at all. The rocks that had been getting more and more painful were BLISTERS, and lots of them. I had developed blisters on the front pads of my feet. The front pads of my feet are where I land with every step as I run. This was not good news. Adam asked if I wanted them taped up. I told him,"no," I was just going to roll with it. I said, " don’t want to get out on the trail and have the tape roll up and have to take off my shoes in the mountains." This was a mistake.

John and I left and he fed me 3 to 5 grapes at a time. I remember thinking, “I know that a cup of grapes is about 80 calories, so 4 or 5 grapes is insignificant.” But the crazy thing was just a few grapes and I felt a little better. I don’t know if this was psychological, but my job was to keep moving forward no matter what.

John and I did a lot of power walking. We kept a good, even pace and passed a number of people on the asphalt section of the course leading back into Fish Hatchery. We got into Fish Hatchery after the 3.5 mile road section. I walked past the check-in and called out my number, 677. I saw Anton K (the guy that was in first place by 17 minutes the last time we saw him bombing down Hope Pass) and he called out my number to the person who was writing it down. I thought that is nice, he had won the race then comes back out to help on the course. Later, I would discover that he dropped out of the race at Fish Hatchery, because he had gotten dehydrated. John and I were in and out of Fish Hatchery pretty quick. dam, Kate and crew were all over me refueling my hydration pack and attending to my every need. These guys were off the chart fantastic.

Fish Hatchery to May Queen (miles 76.5 – 86.5)
Sugar Loaf Pass! Holy Shit! Remember when I noted earlier that Jason and I had said it was no big deal? Well, that was the outbound side and only after a few hours of running. It is now after 1 a.m. and things have changed.

First, the inbound side is much steeper and climbs A LOT more. John and I got into a rhythm. He broke a stick off for me to use as a walking stick ,which offered more support than I expected. We got into a good pace and kept it up for several hours. We were passing people and hooked on to a train of about 8 guys and we were all pushing, pushing, pushing. We passed people on all fours off the side of the trail, who heaving and vomiting. This at 3 and 4 and 5 a.m. in the morning after 70 to 80 miles is not that unusual a sight. We walked by as if this is business as usual. Thinking back on this scene ,it seems funny.

During the night, several times I would ask John, “Are we almost to the top yet?” John would typically respond with something like, “I think we’re close.” I knew he had no idea, but just to hear him say this was reassuring for me. At one point, he responded in his “I think we’re close,” right after that I thought I saw an airliner’s lights in the sky in front of us. As I watched the light I realized that what I was seeing way, way off in the distance and way, way up above us was not an airplane, but the headlight of runner on a switchback further up the pass. We were a long way from the top! I continued to think about the time cut-off. I went over and over in my head how far I had to go, my estimated pace, and the time I had left for reach Leadville under the 30-hour time limit. I kept coming up with different answers. One time through the calculations I was safe and in no danger of missing the cut-off, the next time through I was right up against the wall.

At this point it was closing in on 4 a.m. I had been moving forward, sometimes faster and sometimes much slower, for 24 hours. My feet were hurting more and more. John and I thought we were at the top of the pass several times only to find another incline. At last, the road quit climbing. The sky was clear and there were more stars than I ever remember seeing in my life. We were on top of Sugarloaf pass, over 11,000 ft up.

The road started its gentle down that Jason and I had found so easy earlier in the day. I tried to run, but the pain in my feet was excruciating. I didn’t say much about the pain, as I thought articulating this would not do a bit of good and I only wanted to stay focused on getting back to Leadville. I tried running, landing on my heels, as I had done off and on throughout the night. I would then switch to landing on the sides of my feet to minimize the pain of the blisters where I would normally land. I power walked as fast as I could and, believe it or not, we were still catching people on a pretty regular basis.

We hit the single track leading down into May Queen. I heard a guy at the top of this section say it was 2.1 miles to the aid station. I looked at my watch, it was about 4:30ish. I thought if I can get to May Queen and have 5 hours to cover the last 13.5 miles I would be in decent shape, time wise. I pushed as hard as I could push. I power walked, shuffled, jogged, walked, but kept relentless forward progress no matter what. I knew that the crew was anxious about me getting into the aid station, getting out, and still having the time to make it to the finish line before the cut-off. I thought about Jason and Kirk; I hoped they were doing well. I had no idea where they were, but I hoped all was well with them. John said he could hear voices from the aid station. I got excited to get there and was pushing harder and harder.

My knees hurt badly at this point, as the heel striking I had been doing though out the night to minimize the pain of my feet began to take its toll. I had also developed new blisters on the back of both heels and on the side of my right foot. Everything hurt: my feet, my knees, my hips and at the same time I felt the excitement beginning to build. I was still very nervous about getting to Leadville in time, but I felt myself focus even harder at this point. It was time to dig as deep as I possibly could into my body, mind and emotions to continue forward. I thought to myself many times over the last few hours how much harder this was than I had ever anticipated. I had to go places within myself - physically, mentally, and emotionally that I never knew existed. I was far beyond what I thought I was capable of doing. At the same time I knew there was much more to do before this would be over.

As we came into May Queen, I saw the crew. They surrounded me and got me checked in and into the aid tent. I sat briefly, had a cup of coffee, and more watermelon. I looked around the scene inside the tent and it all seemed very surreal. It seemed as if everyone was moving in slow motion. People were moving from point-to-point and I saw what looked like “tracers” following them. I sat in what I remember as almost total quiet. People were moving all around me, but it seemed strangely quiet. I saw Kate dressed in her running gear and was happy that she would be the one to pace me on the last leg. I had 13.5 miles to go, it was 5 a.m. in the morning, and I had been going for 25 hours now. I finished my coffee, looked at Kate, and moved toward the exit. I said,”677 checking out” for the final time.

May Queen to Leadville (miles 86.5 – 100)
Kate and I were off. We moved down this asphalt section and at some point I felt like we had missed the turn. I looked back and saw the headlights of other runners taking a turn we had gone past. We were only about 50 to 100 yards past the turn, so no big time loss. We turned around and headed back. We hit the single track that would take us around the lake and Kate began to push. I heard her say “go get the next person.” I ran. Running at this point for me was at best a shuffle, and caught a guy on the trail. We said, “On the left” and passed the first person we saw. My feet were on fire. I had not had anything but watermelon, a few grapes, and a couple gels that I gagged down with John since about 8:30 at Twin Lakes. I was well hydrated, as I did keep drinking lots of water and taking my electrolytes. Again, Kate whispers behind me,
Go, go, go, go get the next person." I did and I did again and we pushed.

The sun began to rise at about 6 a.m. and once again the lake, like 26 hours before, began to be visible again. We got to a place called Tabor Boat Ramp and there were a few people standing out cheering. The crowd said, "You have about 6.5 or 7 miles to go."

I looked at my watch; we had just covered 6ish miles in about 1.5 hours. This, at this point in the race, was really moving. I was thrilled to have covered almost half of the distance of this leg. I looked at my watch and saw that I had 3.5 hours to finish the final 7 miles. This was the first time all night that I KNEW I was going to finish under the 30 hour cut-off. I looked at Kate, then the lake and the mountains surrounding and knew for the first time I was just a few hours away from completing my first 100 mile race.

The pace slowed and for the first time in many, many hours I started to relax a little. I had been watching my hands since the sun came up, but now Kate noticed what was going on with my body. My hands were grotesquely swollen. Kate was alarmed and I kept trying to play it down, but I too was a bit concerned. There was nothing that could be done now and I dismissed it as “I have just traveled almost 100 miles by foot over the last 28 hours." Kate offered to carry my hydration pack, headlight, and jacket. I let her. For the first time since 4 a.m. the day before, I did not have a water bottle, hydration pack, headlight, cap, or anything.

The single track culminated in a brutal downhill section. I moved very slowly down this section and grimaced with every step. At this point my feet, knees, and whole body hurt with every downhill step. At the bottom, we made a hard left and headed into Leadville.

This section was uphill the entire way for 5 miles. The sun was up and the heat of the day was building. There were a dozen or so people heading in to finish the race. This was a pretty quiet section, as people just kept moving forward. Some people ran by then stopped to walk some, others just kept an even pace. Kate and I moved quickly, or at least if felt like that to me, with a brisk power walk. Our pace was not fast but consistent and fairly even. The road went on and on and on and people would say, “You’re almost there.” Then we would turn a corner or crest a rise and see the road continue to rise out of sight again. It did not feel like we were “almost there.”

I thought to myself “enjoy” just “enjoy this for now.” I was ready to finish. I was exhausted and my feet were killing me. I kept moving forward. We hit a section of pavement and there was Adam. Some more people told us, “You’re almost there.” We laughed and said that we had been hearing that for hours. They laughed back and said this time it’s true. Only one mile to go!

Adam and his son, Sol, were waiting at the one mile mark to cover the last part with us. We turned the corner and son-of-a-bitch another hill. I just laughed and said. "Does this thing ever end?" Adam responded that once I crested the hill I would be able to see the finish line. I plodded on.

Adam called ahead to the rest of the crew that waited at the finish line. He told them we were less than 15 minutes out. I looked at my watch. It was 8:50 am. I had been moving forward for almost 29 hours. The finish line was less than 15 minutes away. I crested the hill and saw up in the distance the big blue banner that read “START” on one side and “FINISH” on the other. This time my side read “FINISH.” I was about a quarter mile out now. I broke down. I put my hands on my knees and again, like I had done 60 miles before, sobbed for a moment. I would not stop for anything. I was as focused as I had ever been in my life and I would not let anything, any challenge, any problem, any obstacles get in the way of me finishing this race. As soon as I relaxed that focus, as I could now, the emotions poured out. Kate was emotional, Adam started crying. I hugged Adam. And then I heard Kate say “Keep moving baby, keep moving.”

Ken about to cross the finish line of the Leadville Trail 100

I composed myself and again like I had done for the last 29 hours began moving forward again. I saw Jason. He came over and we hugged and said, “We did it.” He had finished 2 hours before, but there he was waiting for me to make it in. Then as fast as all this happened I was standing alone in the middle of the street. Kate pointed at the finish line and said “Run it in.” I ran down the red carpet that all finishers get the privilege of doing and “broke the tape” like every finisher before me did. I looked down as my body hit the “tape” and could not believe it was over. I looked up and standing in front of me was the Leadville 100 founder, Ken Chlouber. He was fumbling for a finisher’s medal to put around my neck. After what seemed like forever he pulled a medal from his arm and put it around my neck. I looked down at the piece of metal that read Leadville 100 Finisher. All I could think of to do was reach out and hug Ken. He hugged me back and said “You did it.”

A Leadville-sized hug between two Kens

I was then ushered into the medical check tent as all finishers are. I was weighed and had gained back a few pound leaving me about 2 or 3 pounds down over the last 29 hours. I sat in a chair and all the crew was there still getting me whatever I needed. I drank several cups of Coke and just savored the moment. Jason was in the tent with me and we spoke for a little bit. We had done it; we had reached our goal of running the Leadville 100 and finishing between 25 and 30 hours.

I the little over a week since the race I had some time to reflect on it. The endorphins have worn off, but the excitement of the experience has not. This was one of the best experiences of my life. This experience was in the crowds, trails, the beautiful Colorado mountains, and especially the crews of family and friends that made the journey with us. I am not sure what all this means or the significance of the journey completely, but I do know that my life will never be the same. This event was life changing. My perspective on what I am capable of is changed forever. My perspective on what you, the reader, are capable of is also changed forever.

What had become clear over the last week is that we limit ourselves to what we believe the possibilities for our lives can be. I have heard several people this week speak of what they can’t do, and I thought each time “Yes, you can.” Ken C has this saying that goes something like, you can do more than you think you can, and you’re better than you think you can be. Today, I know what he is talking about. I have always believed this, but today I have internalized this to the core of my being.

I also believe that we can do together more than we can do apart. I would not have been able to finish this race without my crew. They pushed me when I needed it, they pushed me when I didn’t need it, they pushed me when they thought I might not make it. It is, in large part, because of this group effort that I was able to reach beyond what I thought was physically, mentally, and emotionally possible. Thank you to all who traveled this journey with me. I am in indebted to you and hope to be with you when you, too, discover your possibilities.

20 Hours to Harrison: A Leadville 100 Report by Garett Graubins

2009-10-02T06:00:00.001-04:00

[Garett Graubins, a contributing editor for Trail Runner Magazine and friend of iRunFar, has graciously shared his 2009 Leadville 100 race report with us and we, in turn, share it with you. Garett's report is highly informative and a must read for anyone looking to run Leadville well, regardless of whether or not he or she is looking to break 20 hours. So, here's his tale of "battling doubt, heat, stomach issues, high altitude, fatigue, bad early 80s music, a clown wig, and one hyper-driven pacer on the Leadville Trail."]

At the starting line of this year’s Leadville Trail 100, doubt occupied the same rarified air as nervousness. I stood there at 3:50 a.m., posing for pictures with my wife and friends, wearing the sweatshirt I received from my previous LT100 finish in 2004. The right arm sported my name and finishing time: 21:20. It was such a distant memory that the iron-on letters had almost completely worn off.

Given the five-year gap since my last LT100 run – a timespan that included a fractured fibula in the spring of 2008 and the plate, pins, and screws that still reside around my ankle region – I had very serious doubts that I could click off the same time this year.

And, yet, I wanted to beat that previous time by 80 minutes. That would mean cracking 20 hours. I even taped the splits to my water bottles and burned them into my brain:

Sub-20
May Queen - 5:45
Fish Hatchery - 7:28
Halfmoon - 8:35
Twin Lakes - 10:12
Winfield - 1:07
Twin Lakes - 3:46
Halfmoon - 5:44
Fish Hatchery- 6:53
May Queen - 9:13

Sub-20 would punch my ticket into elite company in the Leadville Trail 100 archives. And, in any other year, it would also place me in the top three finishers. But, I say this with all honesty and no false modesty whatsoever: I had serious doubts about whether I could physically crack the 20-hour mark. I could not say with certainty that I possessed the physical tools to get me through 100 miles and back to 6th & Harrison in downtown Leadville before midnight (when the clock would strike 20 hours). So, as I shed my sweatshirt and handed my stocking cap to my wife, Holly, I tried to shake the doubts from my head, focusing instead on the dark road ahead of me. And my first target split, 1:45 to May Queen. Sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of until you do it.

Garett and Holly before the start

+ + + + +

The shotgun fired into the clear night sky and I settled into a chase pack of several runners. The lead pack, which included Anton Krupicka, Tim Parr, Duncan Callahan, and a few others immediately opened a gap. But this was where I wanted to be, in the chase pack, and I looked around at the other runners as our treads left the pavement of 6th Street and scraped against the dirt road known as The Boulevard. I cherish this part of the Leadville Trail 100, the first half marathon, because the miles flow by so effortlessly and it’s the only section where I have the energy to carry on a conversation. Later, and for most of the race, I am so focused on the task at hand – breathing, battling demons, looking for a rhythm – that I find it hard to chat very much. And I couldn’t have hand-picked a better crew of pals to be sharing the same stretch of road. My headlamp flittered to Jason Koop, a great guy from Colorado Springs who I first met while we were crewing for Dean Karnazes in the 2006 Badwater Ultramarathon. Koop ran for Texas A&M back in the day and knows how to train (he works for Carmichael Training Systems); so I figured he’d be near the front of the pack all day. Then there was Andy Jones-Wilkins, who has grown into a legend at the 100-mile distance. Known as much for his top results as his booming, colorful personality, Andy had already rattled off elite-level times at June’s Western States 100 and July’s Hardrock 100 … but, tired legs or not, we all knew he’d be near the front again after the dust settled on this day. Yet that didn’t stop him from trying to lower expectations (also known as “sandbagging”). “I just had to come down here and do one of the classics,” he said so innocently.

Runners head down 6th Street during the first few hundred feet of the race

As we left the dirt road and transitioned to my favorite stretch of singletrack on the planet, Turquoise Lake, Bryon Powell ran alongside us, as well. I first met Bryon at the Grouse Gulch aid station at the Hardrock 100 in July 2005. Somebody introduced us via email and he volunteered to pace me over Engineer Pass and down into Ouray. After only a few miles that day, I knew I had lucked out: Bryon’s enthusiasm and friendly intensity are contagious. This year, he and I had had the chance to meet for several training runs in Colorado. After he battled through an Achilles injury – deciding for a short time to pass on Leadville – he declared his plans to run the race after all. He also seemed to be taking a page from the Jones-Wilkins Book of Sandbagging, too. He swore up and down that his goal was in the 21-22 hour range. But as I noted his early intensity and, later, observed him running up Hagerman Pass Road, I suspected that he had other intentions.

The four of us exchanged banter and life updates for several miles. We kidded Andy about how it’s Leadville tradition to leave your light on during the last ten miles of the race (as a tribute to the area’s mining heritage). The opposite is actually true. We also swapped stories about kids, weddings (Koop just got married this summer and LT100 Race Director Ken Chlouber officiated), jobs, and LT100 folklore (more than a few Joe Kulak jokes brought laughs … we missed you, Joe!).

Myself, I was pretty open about the fact that I hoped to crack 20. Sometimes I feel that the more you share a goal with people, the more committed you are to doing everything possible to make it happen. (Or the more embarrassed you might be when you completely miss it!)

+ + + + +

Every LT100 runner needs to grant him- or herself this one treat during the first 12 or so miles of the race. At some point, pull off to the side of the Turquoise Lake Trail, stop, and look back along the shores of the lake. There you will see a procession of headlamps bobbing up and down along the trail. It’s a magical, single-file candelabra, like a night-time funeral procession for a great king.

After running through a crowd of spectators who had hustled ahead to the Tabor Boat Ramp, the conversation gradually faded. Still, I ran with Bryon, Koop, and Andy. As is customary during the first hour of an ultra, nature called and I soon shuffled off the trail to a fine nook behind a log. “See you guys on the trail,” I shouted. “Gotta talk to a man about a horse.”

Returning to the trail, I subconsciously ran a quick pace and soon found myself catching a few other runners. One of them, with shag-carpet sideburns, had the friendliest disposition this side of Santa’s Workshop. I asked him his name. Aaron Schwartzbard. A famed name in the sport. I felt honored to be sharing trail with these guys, and also wondered if I was running too hard.

Aaron and I arrived at the May Queen aid station (Mile 13.5) in about 1:48. That was about three minutes off my sub-20 target split, but I was not at all concerned. I felt great to be here and I knew that this split time was the most inconsequential of them all. Case in point: my arrival time here was faster than last year’s top three LT100 finishers, all of whom cracked 19 hours. 100 miles is a long, long way, and it’s very easy to make up (or lose) three minutes.

Holly and my sister, Kris, caught up to me on the other side of the aid station tent. This was the program all day long and I owe them a larger-than-Mount Massive dose of thanks for following my tired, occasionally grumpy self all around the Rockies on this day.

Holly and Kris had fresh bottles, a banana, and an Ensure. I worked hard to get it down as I hiked up the paved road to the Colorado Trail trailhead. In fact, I had to work too hard – this may have been the first sign that my stomach would have the disposition of a bratty little teenager on this day.

+ + + + +

I made the decision to keep my headlamp during this section, even though the sky was lightening. I just was not sure how dark it would be in the pine trees. I was glad I made this decision; the trail soon turned technical and I liked having the extra bit of light on the trail.

Here, I bumped into Todd Holmes and a San Antonio, Texas-based runner named Dave Wallach (who, I would learn later, actually went to high school with my wife in Dayton, Ohio … very small world). Todd Holmes is an 11-time Leadville finisher and he has cracked 20 hours at Leadville at least one time. I shared with him my goals for the race and asked him the key to running under 20. He said, “Don’t do anything stupid early and basically take what the trail gives you.”

I took this to mean that I shouldn’t get too excited and run many of the uphills – especially when my legs still felt good. So what did I do when I left the singletrack Colorado Trail and hit the gentle uphill grade of the Haggerman Pass Road? Yep, I started running. I wasn’t necessarily running hard and my breathing was well under control, but I still gained quickly on Bryon Powell up ahead, who was also running. And I could make out two other runners ahead of him. On this road, I clicked off my headlamp.

I’ll need to check my splits, but I am confident that I’ve never clicked off this uphill section as quickly as I did. Near the top, the sun had finally peaked over the high peaks to the east and I was soaked in golden rays. If I wasn’t trying so had to conserve energy, I would have burst out in song, probably something from Sound of Music or “Oh what a beautiful morning” (which Bryon had been singing an hour earlier on the Turquoise Lake Trail … whoa, Bryon, time for some singing lessons!).

Near the tip-top of the climb, I also caught up with a Grand Junction, Colorado runner named Marty. I had briefly met Marty in passing at the Turquoise Lake Half Marathon. In fact, I only spoke with him at the finish line because he bolted away from me so quickly after the race began. He won that day, seemingly without effort, and today he seemed to glide along. I learned it was his very first 100 miler and he admit that he wanted to stay very, very conservative. I pegged him as a frontrunner, based on his lean runner's build and smooth mechanics. He also had a ponytail and runners with long hair have a solid history at Leadville.

Soon the trail plunged downward toward the Arkansas River Valley. As much as I enjoyed letting my stride surrender to gravity, I found myself anxious for the occasional uphills so I could hike and take in a gel or two before reaching the road that leads to Fish Hatchery. Normally, I take maybe 12 gels over an entire 100 miler. Today, I was 20 miles into the race and already taking my sixth.

Bryon Powell and I ran back and forth during the downhill dives while Marty eased back a little bit. Soon we hit the flat at the bottom of the Power Lines, went around the big puddle that never seems to dry up, and hiked up a slight grade to the Fish Hatchery Road. A crowd of people had gathered and cheered us on. Throughout the day, I felt like I was able to run flat and rolling sections with smooth footing very well and this stretch set the tone. I ran strong here, passing Bryon and then Jason Koop. In between, I chuckled while passing the adobe house that always plays music on Race Day. The boom box was blaring again … I think it was Eye of the Tiger … but this year they posted a sign: Bring Fresh Horses and Whiskey for My Men.

Eye of the Tiger, Rock. Eye of the Tiger.
The LT00 finisher’s belt buckle is only somewhat smaller.

It’s remarkable how the smallest of gestures and slightest nuances are magnified during a 100-mile race. For some reason, I always look forward to this one house on the course – in the same way I smile when I cross the last footbridge on the Turquoise Lake trail, wrestle with the 20 yards of downhill into Twin Lakes, and first cast my eyes on the sign that says “Winfield.”

+ + + + +

At the Fish Hatchery aid station, I spotted Holly and Kris right away. I dumped my water bottles, headlamp, and armskins at their feet and continued to the check-in. I gave my number to the volunteer, looped through the tent while picking up two cups of water, and headed out. I was especially determined during these earlier miles to maximize my forward momentum and minimize my time sitting idle in the aid stations.

Arriving at Fish Hatchery aid station. I’m in yellow.
That’s Jason Koop rocking the road in front of me.

At the bottom of the Fish Hatchery aid station driveway, I met up with Holly and Kris again. I had a bottle of Ensure and a little bit of banana here. I was definitely trying to be cautious with how much I was eating (I over-ate during the first portion of the 2004 race and paid for it), but I was also growing increasingly worried that nothing, absolutely nothing, was sounding appetizing.

I also recall seeing two-time Leadville champ Paul Dewitt here. Paul owned this course earlier this decade. “Whoa, Garett, you’re running with the big dogs!” he said. Thank you for those encouraging word, Paul. Soon enough, I felt more like a big dog’s chewtoy out there!

Preparing to dump some gear at the Fish Hatchery aid station.

Before heading out to the long paved road section, Holly gave me my cap, sunglasses, and iPod. It was time to motor. The time was just after 7:30 in the morning. I remained on pace for sub-20. I was soon lost in tunes, rhythmically placing one foot in front of the other. That is, until I caught up with Bryon Powell. Through my cranked-up volume I could hear Bryon say, “Go get ‘em, Garett!” before also reminding me to soak in the views along the way. I lifted my gaze from the pavement and took in a 30-mile view that covered Hope Pass, Mt. Elbert (Colorado’s highest peak), and Mt. Massive (Colorado’s second-highest peak). I spent the next many miles reminding myself to look up and not focus so intensely on executing my race plan. “It’s supposed to be fun out here …” Those remindful words echoed through my head many times throughout the day.

The greatest crew a guy could ask for: my wife Holly and sister Kristina.
To the right, in the stocking cap, Paul Dewitt looks on, probably thinking about how slow all the runners look compared to his record-setting run here.

+ + + + +

Just a few days before this year’s race, a military helicopter crashed on the upper slopes of Mount Massive. As a result, Half Moon Road was closed to public access – a development that would affect about six miles of the course. This came as news to me … the day before the race.

At first, I had a mild internal freak-out over the subsequent course re-route. “That’s terrific,” I thought to myself during the pre-race event, while swigging another gulp of water from my Nalgene. “Talk about being thrown a big curve ball in the bottom of the ninth inning!” But, in talking to the 2008 Leadville champ Duncan Callahan a little later, we agreed that it could be a good thing – whereas before we’d have to run up a not-so-romantic dirt road for four miles (a route we’d trained on countless times), now we could enjoy a little discovery on a course that we already knew very, very well. So, as a result, I actually looked forward to the next section.

Reaching the top of the dusty road, where the pine trees seem to have suddenly decided to start growing – an area so cleverly called “Treeline” – the course veered left rather than continuing straight. This, I understand, mimics the Leadville Trail 100 mountain bike course, and I tried to imagine the crankheads motoring through here after less than two hours. I was more than four hours into my own race.

From here, the course rolled due south and occasionally southwest. Along the way, it passed through an open meadow where crews had parked their cars. Farther east, a double-prop military copter came down for a landing, its rotors thwumping in my chest. Here, Kris and Holly waited for me with water refills. Again, I struggled to take any of the food they offered. Holly reminded me, “Remember, this is the part of the course where you always feel crummy, so hang in there.” I needed to hear that, even if I already knew it.

+ + + + +

So I cranked up the tunes and continued on the dirt road focusing on catching Bryon Powell yet again; he had passed me while I worked to eat something, anything, that Kris and Holly had for me.

Soon enough, Bryon and I ran quietly side-by-side. We both lamented about how much of the Leadville course is run-able. This is both good and bad. Of course, it’s easy to make decent time for long stretches. But the constant drone of nine-minute miles and a grade that fluctuates only a few percentage points up or down, grows relentless quicker than you can say, “Thar’s Molybdenum in them thar hills!”

The course took a sharp right-hand turn into the trees and we enjoyed some shelter from the sun. Bryon now ran 20 yards behind me and seemed to be easing back. I pushed the pace a bit, being careful not to redline. I was running comfortably now, and feeling my body coming back around. This was the balancing act I tried to play all day – stepping on the gas just enough to run hard, but without overheating my engine.

On one horseshoe-curved stretch of trail with a slight descent and then a slight climb, I took a little glance back and didn’t see anybody. Here, I began to wonder if I was running this stretch too hard. But, I noted, I was still feeling good. Maybe it was my day. Nahhhhh … still too early to tell.

The Box Creek aid station (situated to mirror the position of the Half Moon aid station, roughly mile 31) came into sight and I unscrewed the lids of my two water bottles. “Water, please.” I also grabbed two slabs of watermelon and a whole banana here. Once upon a time, I loved all the goodies at aid stations – the M&M’s, cookies, even some sandwiches. Now I can’t touch the stuff. No idea why.

I also took several pretzels here and, after eating the fruit on my way out of the aid station, took them down to try to keep the stomach calm.

It’s worth noting that I was being extra diligent with my salt/electrolyte intake throughout the day. I was taking two per 90 minutes, in anticipation of the hot weather. This plan worked for me at the Bighorn 50 earlier in the summer, also a hot day. And, through mile 30, it seemed to be working. I was going to bathroom regularly … and clearly.

Shortly before the primitive road turned to singletrack and joined the Colorado Trail below the slopes of Mount Elbert, I heard a familiar booming voice not far behind me. I didn’t look back, because there was no need to. It was Andy Jones-Wilkins. I knew in the back of my mind that he was lingering not far behind me over the last 20 miles, and I felt confident that it wasn’t a matter of if he would pass me but when, but I had envisioned it taking place later.

Don’t let the smile or rugged good looks fool you: Andy Jones-Wilkins is to be feared.

At this point, I picked up the pace. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to be passed by Andy … yet. Or maybe it was because I was beginning to feel the best I had in 15 or so miles. Or maybe it was being on one of the most beautiful, run-able stretches of trail, shaded amongst the trees, and smelling of warm pine. Or maybe it was because Viva la Vida by Coldplay came up on the iPod. Or maybe it was the anticipation of arriving at the Twin Lakes aid station (still a solid six miles away). Regardless, I was suddenly flying along, and I passed three runners. At the same time, Andy’s voice vanished. But I still knew he was there.

+ + + + +

I’m big on trail karma, the sense that spreading goodwill on a trail will come back to you some way, some day. And, over the final few miles into Twin Lakes, I had a few chances to spread some. First, I passed by one runner on a long gradual downhill. I slid by but, 50 feet later, decided to stop.

“Are you OK?”

“Achilles.”

“Would an Aleve help?”

“Do you have one?”

“Sure.” And I played doctor on the trail. I didn’t know the runner, but would be curious to hear what happened to him. If he reads this, it’d be great to hear from him.

‘Tis wise to spread good karma on the trail.
Doesn’t the Buddha look a little bloated from too much electrolyte intake?

Then, on the final steep downhill into Twin Lakes, I over-ran a sharp right turn, realizing only at the very last instant that I had missed the turn. I hit the brakes, backtracked, and moved two large logs over to block the wayward route and (hopefully) give runners just enough reason to pause that they would notice the sharp turn.

+ + + + +

Arriving at Twin Lakes outbound is one of the true highlights of the Leadville Trail 100. It’s early enough in the race that runners normally feel good (“good” relative to how they will feel when they come back through Twin Lakes) and there’s a large crowd of people gathered to provide a big boost. For me, it’s a great feeling to know that 40 miles are behind me. Lastly, the morning-long anticipation of Hope Pass is over with, because this aid station signals the beginning of 20 of the toughest miles in ultrarunning: a double crossing of 12,600-foot Hope Pass.

Arriving at the Twin Lakes aid station, mile 40

I ran right through the actual aid station here, having made plans to meet Kris and Holly at the far end of the Twin Lakes parking lot. I saw many familiar faces as I made my way through the dusty side roads of town: Annette & David Fortune, Billy Simpson, Sue Wilcox, and Scott Jaime, to name only a few.

Kris and Holly had laid out everything I could possibly need on a picnic table overlooking the wide river valley across which runners go before beginning the Hope Pass climb. I took some Clif Bloks, fresh water bottles, and a whole banana. I also drank half of an Ensure – about as much as my stomach would allow.

The view leaving Twin Lakes. That’s me in yellow.

Also while here, Kris and Holly gave me a great bit of news from home: Sawyer, our son, had used the potty for the first time the night before (Holly’s parents had flown into watch them). This brought a mile-wide smile to my face, and I said, “That’s great, because his dad hasn’t used a toilet all day!”

I walked on the trail leading out of Twin Lakes, focusing on eating a bit before I would begin running again. Here, Andy Jones-Wilkins appeared right behind me. He said he was feeling OK. I basically said the same. It was apparent we were both trying to conserve energy.

The evening before the race, I had spent at least two hours wondering if I should use trekking poles for this side of the Hope Pass climb. Trekking poles seem to be all the rage this summer, thanks in large part to the huge success Karl Meltzer enjoyed while using them at the Hardrock 100. In Karl’s words, “I felt like I was cheating, they helped so much.”

Departing Twin Lakes, sans trekking poles or much of an appetite.

In the end, I opted not to use them on this leg, not because I didn’t think they would help. I just didn’t want to wrestle with them and a hydration pack while running across the roughly two miles of river valley (I always use handheld bottles). It’s an easily run-able section and, if you have legs, it’s possible to make up some decent ground.

My decision seemed justified on Race Day as I began running again. I quickly pulled away from Andy, who seemed to be wondering whether he could carry the poles and run efficiently at the same time. Soon, he was out of view again and I caught glimpses of another runner ahead: Jason Koop, who I had not seen since Fish Hatchery.

“Epic” would not describe the river crossing this year. Although there was a fixed rope, the flow barely reached my knees. Still, it brought relief to the legs and I lingered in the cold water for 30 extra seconds while also soaking my cap.

+ + + + +

Throughout the day, I worked to integrate pressure breathing into my run – and especially on the climbs. I first began using this method (which involves inhaling deeply and then exhaling forcefully through tightly pursed lips; the belief is that it helps, even in a small way, to equalize pressure between the lungs and environment at high altitudes) at the 2005 Hardrock 100. I can’t say whether it worked, but my results for that race and subsequent high-altitude 100s have been positive. Maybe it’s a placebo effect; there’s no way of telling for sure.

Still, on the climb up Hope Pass, I set a steady, strong, maintainable pace, hiking with purpose. With my cap bill pulled low, I limited my field of vision to 10 yards ahead of me. Soon, I passed one runner wearing a red and white singlet. Then, about 2/3 of the way up the Pass, I caught Jason Koop.

I lingered behind Jason for some time, stopping at one other point to dip my cap into a thin stream running along the trail. I hope I wasn’t being anti-social, not talking to Jason, but I had my iPod on and I was in a good zone. Besides, my breathing was so deep and fast at that point that it would have been a chore to keep up a conversation. “Hey Jason,” I said. “I’d talk, but it’s taking everything I have just to breath.” He seemed to feel the same way.

As the trail leveled out slightly on the final half mile approach to the Hopeless aid station (mile 45, elevation: 12,000 feet above sea level), I pulled away from Jason. Something told me I’d see him plenty more later. And I was right. Oh, man, I was right.

+ + + + +

The Hopeless aid station is undoubtedly one of the most unique and memorable aid stations in trail running and it’s unfortunate that more people can’t soak in this amazing scene (it is not crew-accessible; in fact, supplies are carried up here by a team of llamas the day before the race). I slowed to a fast walk, went into the tent, chugged two cups of Sprite, and left. I also had one water bottle refilled with plain water.

Nearing the top of 12,600-foot Hope Pass.
(photo: Nancy Hobbs)

Lately, Holly and I have been reading a children’s book series to Sawyer called “Llama Llama” – the books are a sing-song rhyme sequence that sprinkles in words that rhyme with “llama” (i.e. “mama” and “drama”). So, it goes without saying that I had some of the lines from the books repeating in my head for the next few miles. No matter how high I cranked the volume on the iPod, there it was, “Please stop all this llama drama, and be patient with your mama.” Ugh.

At the top of Hope Pass, I always experience a burst of emotion. From here, it’s possible to view the race’s turnaround point, far below in a very tight canyon. It’s also possible to turn around and see the entire expanse of what you’ve run up to that point. With a fist pump and a loud shout, I pointed my toes downhill and let ‘er rip.

I didn’t recall this downhill being such a quad cruncher – steep, with sketchy footing in spots. I also had to negotiate some rock fields that challenged my footing as well as the plate still screwed to my fibula.

About one mile from the bottom, I yielded to the leader of the men’s race, Anton Krupicka. “Good luck on the trip back, Anton,” I said, barely slowing my pace. He glanced at me with a blank expression similar to what I saw on Matt Carpenter’s face late in the 2004 race – a look that could best be described as the polar opposite of lucid. I wondered if he was just going through a rough patch (as we all do), or if he was on his way to some more serious problems.

When I first started running Leadville in the late 1990s, the dirt road leading to Winfield was a carnival of activity. Cars parked everywhere, people enjoying the day in camping chairs. Loud cheers. Really, a tunnel of people for at least a quarter of a mile. I recall one year a group brought out a big grill and had brats and burgers flipping through the air.

Somewhere along the way, I guess the rules changed and the organizers stopped allowing crews to meet their runners on the dirt road. Because now the road was desolate, livened only by the occasional car making its way up the road to Winfield, where crews are now instructed to go. With a slight side breeze, I stayed to the far side of the road to avoid dust being kicked up by the cars.

These guys paced me up the tough, hot miles up to the Winfield turnaround.

I’ve never been a Journey fan, but the song “Don’t Stop Believin’” gave me a kickstart on this lonely stretch. I listened to it twice as I managed to run all of the uphills on my way. While on my way, I counted the runners who were ahead of me, already on their way back to Leadville. Tim Parr. A short, lean guy with dark hair wearing white. Duncan Callahan. And at least two others I didn’t recognize.

Winfield was once a bustling mining town, complete with a schoolhouse. Today, many of the wood cabins still remain, giving the aid station the feel of a pioneering outpost, almost a step back in time.

I arrived here at roughly 12:45, or 8 hours and 45 minutes into the race. This put me at least 20 minutes ahead of my targeted splits. More importantly, I felt great. My legs had a numb-but-energetic bounce to them. Here, I was buoyed by the sight of not only Kris and Holly, but also my pacers Rich Rodgers and Bob Sweeney.

Primed to go. Rich Rodgers gets ready to pace me out of Winfield.

If somebody has an appetite, Winfield is heaven on Earth. Pizza. Sandwiches. Chips. Soda. Soups. But the only thing that looked good to me was the watermelon and a few more cups of Sprite. Once I cooled down and walked to my crew, I was able to take in another half a bottle of Ensure, but it was the same story: absolutely nothing looked good and I was in no mood (yet) to choke down food.

My stay at Winfield was beginning to feel too long, so I turned and began walking away from the aid station. Rich, who would pace me to Twin Lakes, was busy gathering water bottles and gear, and would catch me in just a few minutes.

50 miles down. 50 to go. Somebody once said about the marathon, "You run the first half with your legs, the second half with your heart." The good news was that I still had legs. Time would tell when they would call it quits and I’d have to find some heart.

I was happy to see that I still had my running legs under me as I stretched out my strides on the dirt road back to the main trailhead. Of course, the road was mildly downhill and knowing this made me feel like I had a wind at my back. I also enjoyed seeing a lot of familiar faces heading up to Winfield, including Ryan Cooper, Bryon Powell, Todd Gangelhoff, and Todd Holmes. When I was nearly to the trailhead, I saw Darcy Africa, the women’s leader. She didn’t flash her trademark ear-to-ear smile, and I wondered if she was having a difficult day. I spotted the next women’s runner less than five minutes later, just after I started the uphill climb back up Hope Pass.

+ + + + +

I had been planning for weeks to use trekking poles on this section of the trail. Firstly, this side of Hope Pass is shorter and steeper. Secondly, with Rich pacing (and “muling”, which means he was carrying everything for me), I didn’t have to carry the poles on the very run-able dirt-road and the downhill on the other side of the pass, leading to Twin Lakes.

Heading up the South Face of Hope Pass.
The trekking poles were HUGE on this ascent.

The poles helped, without a doubt. The only downside was that I immediately felt less like a runner and more like some European on his way to an alpine hut for his next dose of schnapps. Still, I was making decent time and the effort level was as intense as I could handle. I turned inward, worked on my pressure breathing, and listened to Rich talk about a recent mountaineering adventure in the Cascades, a gal he’s been dating (for reasons of confidentiality, that’s all I will share), and an assortment of other topics.

“Rich, man, I’m sorry if I’m not much of a conversationalist,” I offered in between breaths. “I just really need to focus on the climb … just because I’m not saying anything doesn’t mean I’m not listening.”

Rich seemed to get it – and seemed to be enjoying himself. That’s one of my hopes when I’m running these things – that my pacers are having a good experience and not pondering whether I’m a 4 or a 9 on the Whatta-Jerk Scale.

At some point, Rich began remarking that his head was overheating. He was stammering something about how he might have to adjust his hat. Yadayadayada. And I kept my head down, arms pumping to the rhythm of my legs. The trekking poles planting on rocks and hard ground. Tick. Step. Tick. Step. Tick. Step.

Runners were swarming downhill past me, on their way to Winfield. And I recognized many of them, offering words of encouragement whenever I could – either by name or by their shirt. More than once, I said “Nice job, C.R.U.D.” – that’s the Coloradans Running Ultra Distances club out of Colorado Springs, a spirited bunch with a penchant for long miles and cold, adult beverages.

As we neared the top of the Pass, one passing runner laughed, “Nice hair, man!”

Wait a second. Rich is basically bald. And I had a cap on. What drugs was this guy taking? I glanced back and almost coughed up the two gels in my stomach.

Rich had been hiking close behind me wearing a stark white afro wig. “Dude,” I gasped. “That’s funny. Good stuff.”

“Don’t mess with the ‘fro.” A great pacer keeps his runner smiling.

He had been wearing the wig for 15 minutes. My head was just in a different place and I didn’t notice. Rich joked about how he was also going to wear a cape, but he didn’t want me to think that he wasn’t taking his pacing duties seriously.

That moment of levity, which came just a few hundred feet below the pass, was just what I needed. As we crested Hope Pass, Leadville and the finish line suddenly seemed so much closer than at any other point during the climb. Worlds closer. If I had a para-glider, I could have soared there in a matter of minutes. Instead, there were 45 miles to go.

I handed the trekking poles off to Rich and worked to make good time on the downhill while he lashed them to his pack. My legs came back to life and I noted a few more familiar faces, including Joy Robertson. Joy has a particularly soulful connection to the Leadville Trail 100 course and she held in one arm a small jar.

Joy Robertson & Garett at the Leadville Trail 100 starting line

“I’m spreading my dog’s ashes up on the pass,” she said. She had put down her dog only a few weeks earlier.

I shouted back up the mountain: “I’ll say a prayer for your dog!”

Back at Hopeless aid station, I slowed just enough to down a little more Sprite and a piece of watermelon. I normally don’t eat much here, since the major aid station of Twin Lakes is only four miles away, downhill. But a voice in the back of my mind was urging me to stay here and try to get some more serious food into my system. I just wouldn’t listen. I’ll admit it now: I had tunnel vision on making good time on the descent. It’s tough to stay smart when gravity is tugging at your shorts.

Surprisingly, the quads held together fine on the descent and I felt I was able to run this stretch strong.

Soon enough, the trail leveled off and we were traversing the valley floor, splashing through the river and around a few other muddy puddles. Anticipating the Twin Lakes aid station (mile 60), I took stock of my body and what I might need. Although I was making good time and running well, I was alarmed by how few calories I had taken in since Winfield, over two hours earlier. I mainly had a few gels and a few bottles of Perpetuem, so I consumed maybe 500 calories. What’s more (graphic contents to follow) I had peed only twice over the last 20 miles and both times my urine was deep yellow – normally a sign of dehydration.

Garett & Rich arrive at Twin Lakes, mile 60.
(photo: David Clifford)

Trying to hold it together at the Twin Lakes Aid Station. With Holly in tow, followed by Devin in the white cap and Bob Sweeney in the red cap. Rich, obviously, is wearing the wig

So, arriving at Twin Lakes, I gave myself a mandate: eat. Easier said than done, though. As usual, nothing looked good at the aid station smorgasbord, so I walked right through, taking only two slabs of watermelon.

Working to choke down an Ensure at Twin Lakes

As my next pacer, Devin Gardiner, swapped supplies with Rich, my crew offered up every bit of food under the sun. My reply to each offering: “No, that won’t work.” So I choked down a little bit more Ensure and turned back toward the course, hoping I could eat more while in between aid stations than actually in them.

For the first time of many, Devin assured me that I was doing great. Devin’s positive spirit – and his strong running legs – proved to be a major factor in how we ran out of Twin Lakes.

Devin & Garett team up for the next stretch, 10 miles to Box Creek

+ + + + +

Just out of sight of the aid station, over a slight hill, I paused beside Devin. I thought my stomach was going to erupt. But, after a few seconds swaying with my hands on my knees, everything seemed to settle and we continued uphill.

In retrospect, I probably whined a lot during this section, and I’m lucky Devin has the low-key, patient demeanor of a Benedictine monk … in a previous life, that was likely his calling. I could imagine him in a mountain monastery, wisely listening to others in the town piazza, before setting out for a 30-mile run into the Alps. He has a way of listening quietly and making his soft-spoken words count.

As we hiked upward, Devin kept suggesting food that he had lugged along from the Twin Lakes aid station. None of it sounded appetizing, but I knew I’d have to eat out of complete necessity. So I worked on a cup of noodles and broth. It held. Then I took a few pieces of watermelon and that worked. A little while later, a gel.

Cresting the top of the climb, I shifted into a run for the first time in 30 minutes. The legs, tight at first, loosened up and I began to make good time again, running the downhills a good clip and even jogging the mild uphills. Still, I knew I’d have to eat more.

Devin suggested the Clif Bloks and I decided they were worth a shot. After eating one, I had to take five minutes to settle down. Then I took another one. “Hey,” I said, “this seems to be working.” So, for the next five miles, I took another Clif Blok every several minutes.

We ran through the Box Creek aid station (the unofficial Half Moon aid station), not lingering here since we were in a good groove and it was only another three miles until I’d see my crew at Treeline.

The trail—a dirt road, really—continued to shift between soft downhills and flat sections. On the long, sweeping horseshoe section, I pushed a bit harder in the event that anybody was trying to run me down at this spot. Glancing back before I slipped back into the trees, there weren’t any other runners in sight.

Soon, the trail turned due north. We hugged the left-hand side of the trail to capitalize on the shade. The sun was easing down in the west at this point and the shadows were growing longer. The worst of the day’s heat – which I heard hit the high 80s, a new record, at least for Race Day – was behind us.

In the distance, I spotted a cluster of parked cars and smiled. I had gotten through a pretty rough patch of the race and still managed a good running pace through Mile 70. I hoped, foolishly, that the worst was behind me. But, in my heart, I knew that would not be the case.

Garett arrives at Treeline right around 5:30 pm. That is Devin in grey and Holly in white.

+ + + + +

Treeline felt like a park, with lines of cars sitting on the side of the road and crews enjoying a pleasant evening. I had many friends here as well – Tiffany and Ryan Welch were hanging out. Tiff was continuing a generous streak – she’s played a role in every one of my Leadville Trail 100 runs, even my 1999 DNF. As I turned around, I spotted Elise Gardiner, Devin’s wife, holding their son Ethan. Ethan and my son, Sawyer, are very close in age, and I was reminded of my own son. I walked over and nearly took Ethan out of Elise’s arms, but thought better of it. I was already feeling like I was lingering too long here. So, while my next pacer, Bob Sweeney, transitioned with Devin, I turned and began running down the road.

This section is brutal mentally – a little over four miles on a flat, wide open road across a river valley. It’s brutal because I know I should run it – especially because most every runner hoping to crack 20 hours would do so – while at the same time I want nothing more than to enjoy some long walking breaks.

Bob quickly caught up to me and we settled into a good rhythm. We’re talking no faster than nine-minute miles, but that’s not too bad after 72 miles and 14 hours. I worked to keep drinking water here and took 90-second walking breaks every five or so minutes. Bob, to his credit, tried to keep the breaks to a minimum. You can say it was a push-pull relationship from here to the finish.

A master of the push-pull relationship: Bob Sweeney

Me: “OK, time for a walking break.”

Bob: “Just two more minutes of running”

The thing about Bob is that I knew he’d be a great pacer through the last 1/3 of the course. He knows how to dig deep himself, having been a member of the U.S. 100K National Team for many years. He also knows a lot about running mechanics and nutrition. Lastly, I knew he wouldn’t coddle me through rough patches. He’d be fair, but not overly forgiving.

Right off the bat, Bob pointed out that I was shuffling my feet. That is, I was sliding them forward on the pavement instead of maintaining a true foot roll that resembles a running stride. “Roll the foot from back to front,” he said. “When you shuffle, you’re wasting energy.” He had to remind me of this many more times throughout the evening.

Working hard to keep a good stride. Coming into Fish Hatchery.

I could feel my energy waning here, and I began looking back over my shoulder, across the valley, to see if I could spot any other runners. I noted that Bryon Powell’s car, driven by his crew, passed by on the way to the next aid station, Fish Hatchery. That meant that Bryon was lurking somewhere not far behind me as well. I smiled knowing that he was having a great race, but I also would have preferred he not pass me.

Fish Hatchery. Just before the bottom fell out.

+ + + + +

The last time I ran the Leadville Trail 100, I arrived at Fish Hatchery (Mile 76) just as I needed to turn on my headlamp. This time around, it was barely 6:30 and plenty of daylight remained. While Bob met with my crew (I could imagine the conversation … “Garett’s going to yak." "He’s fading fast." Etc.), I jogged short parts of the long driveway up to the check-in and tent. I found myself thinking that the driveway seemed a lot longer now than it did at 7:30 in the morning.

In the tent, I grabbed two cups of water and left. I couldn’t even smell food at this point. A few claps from inside the tent helped me to feel a bit better about the progress being made.

What can he eat? Anything? Answer: nothing, at this point.

As I checked out, Bob greeted me. “Alright, G-Man, we need to get some food into you.” Bob was stating the obvious, but that didn’t make my stomach any more agreeable to the idea.

“I’m trying.” I said.

I can’t recall if I had any food here. My interaction with my crew was a blur, partly because of my mental state and partly because I wanted to stay focused on making as much time as possible before the sun went down.

So we headed up the road for the short paved stretch before beginning the ruddy, dirt-road climb up Sugarloaf Pass.

Despite my stomach, we managed some slow running spells on the pavement. Bob is a road runner to his core, and really wanted to make some time here. I worked with him the best I could, stopping periodically for walking breaks.

The house one the road that ordinarily plays upbeat, inspirational music wasn’t doing me any favors on this return trip. The best description for their soundtrack as I passed: a melody best suited for an operatic drama or a funeral procession.

We turned a sharp left off the road and began the gradual climb up the Pass. Bob lingered back to extend my collapsed trekking poles. Using trekking poles while running with Bob was counter-intuitive; he is such a pure runner that there was a tinge of embarrassment as he handed them to me. But I soon had far greater concerns.

“Look, up there, somebody else is having problems,” said Bob. “Nobody else out here right now is feeling great. You’re doing fine.” One half mile ahead – and about 300 vertical feet above us – we spied another runner and his pacer. He was moving slowly and, at the top of a pitch, he bent over at the waist, seemingly trying to deposit an earlier meal on a cairn.

Later, I would talk to at least five other runners who experienced similar nausea on the Sugarloaf climb. I joked (after the fact, of course) that the Leadville organizers would need to hose off the entire mountainside.

Sugarloaf Pass felt like K2 at this point

I felt only slightly heartened by the fact that I was gaining on another runner. Soon, as I hiked the same stretch I had observed him climbing, my entire chest seemed to clench into a torso-sized fist. I wretched. Then convulsed. To no avail.

“Keep going, G,” encouraged Bob. “One of two things will happen, you’ll puke or you’ll loosen up. But keep moving.” I listened while using my trekking poles to prop myself up.

Bob glanced over my shoulder, at the trail. “We have company.” Two pairs of runners and pacers were steadily climbing. And they looked far better than I did. A decaying corpse looked better than I did at that point.

I took ten more steps and stopped yet again. I slumped to one knee. And coughed. Then I coughed harder. And it came up. After some aftershocks, I stood up, feeling slightly better.

There are times during a 100-mile race when the finish line is impossibly far away, measured by a different measuring stick than one that counts miles. All race long, my mind could comprehend the finish line. I could see it when I closed my eyes to sleep at night. Now, when I closed my eyes, I saw only defeat. The finish line was still over this pass, down a mountain, past the most tedious singletrack possible, round the north shore of a massive lake, across flat pavement, and then up three miles of gravel road. And, for me, the next tree stump felt worlds away.

“OK, take it real easy,” said Bob. “We’re not walking hard. Just pretend like you’re on a stroll. Walking the dog.”

And so I rinsed my mouth out with a squirt from the water bottle and continued upward.

Lost in my complete collapse was the fact that three runners passed me. First came Jason Koop. He gave me a fist-bump and said “You’ll bounce back.” Then came another runner I did not recognize, with long skinny legs and a purposeful stride. He obviously had places to go and a finish line to reach. Then came Bryon, looking as strong as he did climbing this pass in the morning. I marveled at how his trekking poles clicked resolutely on the hard dirt. His legs were still churning, not dragging. “He’s rocking it,” I thought.

Or, at least that’s what I thought until five minutes later, when Bob and I labored around an uphill bend on the trail, and Bryon was on two knees, also expressing (quite wretchedly) his own stomach problems.

“Hang in there, Bry,” I said.

True to his tenacious form, Bryon motored past me several minutes later, appearing unfazed by his bout of nausea.

+ + + + +

“You need to get some calories in you, Garett.” said Bob. If I had a choice between ingesting anything, having all of my skin peeled off with tweezers, or watching the St. Louis Cardinals win the World Series, I would probably have chosen the Cards last (although that one and the tweezers are roughly equal to each other). But I also knew that calories were imperative.

Somehow better than a gel shot … but barely.
Don’t worry, Cubs fans, the Cards will collapse in October.

So Bob put me on a program similar to the Clif Bloks earlier – I would ingest just a little bit every few minutes. It seemed very small servings were far more tolerable than huge slugs.

We neared the top as the sun disappeared over Haggerman Pass. Yet the sky would still glow for another 20 minutes or so. The headlamps stayed in Bob’s pack as we crested the climb and I tried to shift into a pace remotely resembling a jog.

After 10 minutes or so – and a few more sips of Caffe Latte-flavored Perpetuem (highly recommended!), I began to feel better. That’s not to say that I felt good. Just better. As ultrarunning friend David Horton likes to say, “It never always gets worse.” His words proved true.

Our eyes continued to adjust to the darkness, and we hit the smooth white stone road in full stride. Still the headlamps stayed off.

By my best guess, we were running sub-nine-minute miles on that stretch – blazing, all things considered. And my stomach was holding steady. We paused for a very short time near the turn off to the Colorado Trail for the lamps. Since this section is in the trees and the trail is very technical, it was finally time to don the lamps.

Bob and I stumbled more than a few times in this section, but we ran all of the downhills and levels spots – and even some mile uphills. This section has a tendency to feel very long in the dark, and I had to ratchet up the intensity level to make sure I didn’t catch my toes on any one of the millions of rocks littering the trail.

We didn’t talk much here. The only sounds beside our foot plants and breathing were the occasional words of encouragement from Bob.

Since I began feeling better, I was again able to wrap my head around the still-distant finish line. I was also able to perform some very rudimentary math and realize that a sub-20 finish was still a possibility (although not a given). As we left the Colorado Trail behind us and ran a short stretch of downhill pavement to the race’s final aid station (May Queen, mile 86.5), Bob spelled it out.

“You have just under three hours to finish,” he said. “So there’s not much room to play around or even to walk a little bit.”

Three hours meant that I’d need to do slightly faster than 15-minute miles. Certainly realistic, so long as I could maintain a semblance of a jog. But if I had any catastrophic delays like I did on Sugarloaf Pass, I’d be relegated to the twenty-somethings, time-wise.

The glow of the May Queen aid station tent came into view and I heard the cheers of my crew. I slowed to a walk and made my way into the tent, hoping that some food in there would magically spark some genuine hunger.

Broth? Too salty. Too much of an irritant.

Watermelon? OK, I’ll try a little bit. Oooooh, that doesn’t taste too good.

Pizza? Absolutely no way.

Sprite? Two small cups.

I figured the next stretch would be substantially cooler, so I put on some arm warmers. I placed both my hands on a table and bowed my head, just to gather myself for alone last push, before I turned and walked out the tent into the darkness. There, Holly was waiting for me to wish me good luck.

With Bob still in the tent, my feet hit the paced May Queen campground road and I shifted into a very light jog. It’s not that I felt a burst of energy here, it’s just that I had the immediate urge to try to reach the 6th & Harrison finish line (and be done) as soon as possible. Of course, there was also this sub-20 possibility lingering in the back of my mind.

Early-summer Turquoise Lake. In the daytime.

I’ll say it again. The stretch of singletrack trail along Turquoise Lake is very special to me. I feel I have a lifetime’s worth of memories here:

Four, maybe five, frigid snowshoe races in early January (during which we actually run across the top of the frozen lake!)
Two half marathons, one in 1999 and the other this summer, around the Lake’s entire perimeter.
Camping along the shores with friends and family, including the very first time we ever took our little boy Sawyer.
Throwing sticks into the water first for my late Black Lab, Garp, and nowadays for our Yellow, Chief.
Zombie-marching along the trail with my good pal John Urbana in 1998, the first year I (we) finished Leadville. Our time back then? 27:56. I include that time for any Leadville finishers who doubt whether they can substantially improve on their own finishing time.
A nearly countless number of training runs through snow, sun, and sleet.
Fighting for a breakthrough performance in 2004, and on track to crack 22 hours, I passed über-runner Matt Carpenter in the thickest part of this forest. Matt had started with very realistic hopes of cracking the all-time LT100 record, but was reduced to a very slow walk. His noble effort would eventually bring him to the finish line and he’d return the next year to break the mark by nearly 90 minutes.
Pacing good friend Joe Kulak along this stretch, too. Twice he had to dig deep to make it through here on his way to one of his 11 Leadville Trail 100 finishes.

I tried to draw from my deep collection of positive experiences here, making myself open to all of the positive forces all around. Call it singletrack karma. Or a desire to avoid any negativity. Whatever its name, it kept my legs moving and my spirits high as we clicked off the first couple of miles of rolling, undulating dirty trail.

I also reflected on how, earlier in the week, I got to see Sawyer playfully run and giggle along this very trail. I even jogged very slowly beside him as he bopped over roots and rocks. The sheer joy of his experience – and the expression of pure, innocent discovery on his face – ushered me through many of the tougher miles along this lake, which has a tendency to drag on and on when the legs are battered.

Picturing my own boy, Sawyer, running the trail, kept the mojo flowing along Turquoise Lake

I noted the milestones along the Lake. The first bridge. The first deserted mine. The mud. Another sealed mine. Soon, I had nibbled off enough this stretch that I could hear faint cheers ahead. Tabor Boat Ramp!

About this time, I also spotted a slow-moving headlamp ahead. It would flash back in my direction, and then disappear into some trees before reappearing. Whoever it was, they didn’t seem to moving all that fast. I was soon coming upon a runner and his pacer. It was Bryon Powell again. Bryon stood hunched on the side of the trail, wretching again. “Hang in there, Bryon,” I said. “We’re almost there.”

At the Tabor Boat Ramp, a cluster of flashlight beams landed on me. “Holly?” I asked, wondering if she waited for me here.

“Who is that? Garett?!??” said a voice. “Hey, you’re looking strong!”

It was Shelly, Andy Jones-Wilkins wife. Their three boys were also nearby. Seeing them was a great lift. But it also caused some worry. That meant that Andy was somewhere behind me, between here and the May Queen aid sation. Once we were out of earshot, I said to Bob, “Andy’s a closer. I wouldn’t be surprised to see his headlamp back there.”

“Your job is to look forward,” he said. Bob said this many times during our 20-plus miles together.

But the next headlamp I spotted didn’t belong to Andy. It was up ahead. I first saw it on one of the many points where the trail ducks inland for about 50 yards before angling back toward the water. As the crow flies, the light was only a quarter mile ahead. This equated to more trail distance, though.

Funny thing about the final hours of a 100 miler. I tell myself that my finishing place no longer matters and that the same applies for my finishing time. But, if I look deep within myself and grant myself a big dose of honesty, I see that it does matter … but too often only in retrospect. Even if only to myself. The problem is, such things seem meaningless at the time, when all of my energies are focused only on placing one foot forward on the trail and closer to the finish.

Did I want to catch the runner up ahead? Of course. But I didn’t want to push my pace any hard than I already was. At that point, I opted to let the Ultrarunning Gods decide where I would finish. If I caught him, fine. If I didn’t, fine.

As I reached the paved parking lot of Matchless Boat Ramp, the final boat ramp along Turquoise Lake, another set of flashlights greeted me. “Garett?!?!” It was my crew, a whole bunch of them, including Holly, Kristina, and the Welches, Tiffany and Ryan. The group of them acted like as slingshot, pulling me tight, lifting my spirits even higher, and then flinging me back out on the trail with renewed energy.

The finish line was slowly coming into focus.

“See you at the finish!” I shouted back. “Holly and Kris, I want you to finish with me!” Was I counting chickens before they’d hatch?

My intimate knowledge of the trail paid off in a number of places, especially as the trail passed through campgrounds and various trails branched off the main one. I stayed true to the course and we soon climbed away from the lake, crossed the road, and reached the top of the short, very steep, very dicey descent to the road that would take us to Sugar Loafin’ Campground.

“How much farther is it from here?” Bob asked. For the life of me, I didn’t know if it was five miles or seven miles from here. My brain had stopped to function in many ways, and my attempts to recollect this final stretch of the course were drawing blanks.

“You have about 80 minutes,” said Bob. I could do five miles in that length of time. Seven miles would be difficult, though, considering that the final three or so miles are uphill.

Down, down, down below, we spotted the headlamps of the runners ahead of us. Behind us … nothing.

Once on flat road, I knew I would likely need to run, not walk, in order to give myself a chance at the 20-hour barrier, I knew I needed to run. Bob seemed to realize it, too. And he also seemed to be playing games with me, trying to tease a faster pace out of me so we could catch the runners up ahead.

Finally, the toll of pushing the pace wore me down, and I told Bob, “Look, I’m doing the best I can right now. If we catch ‘em, we catch ‘em. OK?” Only, I didn’t say it in words as polite as those. Let’s just say I sounded more like a sailor.

“Stop shuffling your feet,” Bob reminded me. My mechanics continued to deteriorate.

We hit the pavement where two roads merge rather quickly. But the runner ahead of us seemed to be picking up the pace. I nodded toward Sugar Loafin’ Campground to the left, recalling the 20-mile snowshoe race that I ran here eight months earlier. That day, my hydration tube froze shut. Tonight, I ran in shorts.

We ran the pavement, crossed the small bridge, went over the train tracks, and took a 90-degree right. The lamp ahead was nowhere to be seen.

I walked as Bob looked at his watch yet again. We had just under an hour. Again, I couldn’t imagine how long it would take to tackle this last stretch – just as I couldn’t fathom how long the distance. All I knew was that it was uphill and torturous.

We turned a sharp left for the final uphill straightaway that would take us into Leadville: The Boulevard, a tongue-in-cheek name if ever there was one. For, on “The Boulevard” there is not a building, light, or trace of humankind to be found. Whereas the word “Boulevard” conjured images of loud music, cars whizzing by, and maybe the occasional police siren, the only activity here was the uphill staggering of my legs.

To tackle The Boulevard all at once, in one big bite, is a tall order. My trick during my last three Leadville finishes has been to break it off into very small, more digestible nuggets. I run 100 strides. Then I walk 100. And so on. In this way, it does not seem as long.

After an initial 200-foot climb out of the river valley, The Boulevard leveled off enough to where I had a long, straight view of the entire road ahead. There it was again, the headlamp. Two of them, in fact. And one shone directly back at me.

“OK, Bob, 200 strides.” And I counted them off in my head. The runner ahead was not running.

I walked. 200 more strides, stretched to 300. “Just up to that next glowstick,” I huffed, noting one of the thousands of glowsticks that mark the Leadville Trail 100 course at night.

Soon, I was just 10 feet behind the runner. It was my friend Jason Koop. “Hey Jason,” I said, as we pulled close to even with them. “Think we’ll crack 20?”

Jason glanced back, at least as tired as me at this point. “Yeah.” Sometimes, summoning the strength to converse this late in the race is the equivalent of raising the dead.

We walked just ahead of Jason and his pacer before shifting into another trot. This time, we stretched 200 strides into a half mile stretch.

Light at the end of the tunnel

When The Boulevard veered left near the top of its climb, I finally let myself envision the finish of the race. From here, Bob and I passed a police car, arrived on pavement, and turned right on 6th. This street would climb one more steep hill before dropping and then climbing again to Leadville’s main street, Harrison, and the finish line of the Leadville Trail 100.

At the top of the hill, I thanked Bob for pacing me. I’ve told him this many times, but I think he would make an absolutely incredible coach and he can consider me his very first endorsement. He seems to think that him coaching would signal the end of his very competitive running career, stamping him as a “has-been”, but I vehemently disagree. Why not do both?

We allowed ourselves one more glance backward on the course. There wasn’t anybody in sight, even in the shadows. Call it paranoia, but Darrin Eisman and his pacer, Adam Chase, suddenly appeared only 200 yards behind me when I was in the homestretch in 2004. No such drama was in the works tonight.

“OK, let’s just run this downhill,” I said. “Then we’ll walk it in.” When we reached the beginning of the final uphill, it was strangely easier to just run it in instead of walking. So we kept our stride.

Holly and Kris jogged out to a point 50 yards from the finish line. I grabbed their hands and we jogged to the finish. They insisted that I cross the finish line alone, though, and peeled off just as my feet landed on the first threads of the ceremonial red carpet that the Leadville Trail 100 rolls out for race finishers.

My entire crew was there to cheer me in – Kris, Holly, Tiff and Ryan, Rich, Devin and Elise. They stood with a crowd of 20 or so people in a semi-circle around me as I accepted a medal around my neck and immediately bent over at the waist, too tired to do much.

Done.

A few seconds later, I placed my arms on Holly’s and Kris’s shoulders as they helped me to the medical tent. My body was drained. My stomach in shambles (it would be the next morning when I could finally eat something). But my satisfaction as I slumped onto a cot was possibly the finest I will experience in my very humble athletic career. I had trained all winter, spring, and summer, with a goal which I remained unconvinced I could achieve. And now it had magically come to pass (with an indescribably huge amount of credit going to my wife, Holly, and my crew).

At the finish

100 miles in 19 hours 38 minutes.

Holly & Kris help me to the Medical Tent moments later

In the medical tent afterward, with my sis Kris. Beginning to feel a bit better.

COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF THANKS
Running is a solitary endeavor and I logged many miles alone while training for and running in the Leadville Trail 100. But, there is no doubt in my mind that I would not have achieved my goal without help from these inspiring people:

• Holly, my wife, spiritual compass, supportive (and tolerant) wife, and amazing crew person!

• Kristina, my sister, who flew from Seattle to surprise me. She and Holly made up a dynamic duo of a crew. Her enthusiasm and zeal for life has been contagious.

• Karen & Shelly Birkhold, my incredible parents-in-law, who traveled to Denver from Dayton, Ohio, to watch Sawyer all weekend. Something tells me that they really, really enjoyed their time with our precious son.

• Tiffany and Ryan Welch, our neighbors and fantastic friends. My weekly runs with Ryan were valuable watermarks throughout the winter, spring, and summer – and very motivating. Ryan’s home-brewed beer also provided valuable carbs.

• Guillaume Linossier, who joined Ryan and me for many motivating training runs.

• Annette and David Fortune, who let us stay at their Leadville cottage and even came out to Twin Lakes to cheer me on during the race.

• My intrepid pacers: Rich Rodgers, Devin Gardiner, and Bob Sweeney.

• Elise and Ethan Gardiner, who chased all around the Rockies during the race and offered huge doses of encouragement just when I needed it.

• Other runners who helped to keep me motivated and focused throughout training, including Bryon Powell, Andy Jones-Wilkins, Jason Koop, Joe Kulak, Diane van Deren, Jasper Halekas, Mark Gilligan, Scott Jaime, Bob & Darcy Africa, Ryan Cooper, Roch Horton (incredible headlamp … and the Black Diamond trekking poles saved my cookies on Hope and Sugarloaf Passes!), Todd Gangelhoff, the Boulder Trail Runners and Fort Collins trail running Yahoo! groups.

• The good folks at First Endurance, who are as fanatical about endurance sports as they are about making incredible product. Ultragen and Optygen rock.

• The Tuesday morning “Motivated Associates of Boa Technology” group at work. Our weekly check-in meetings pushed me to actually meet my training goals each week. Huge thanks to the Product Development partner there as well for tolerating my prototype requests; they built the two pairs of shoes (Pearl Izumi Peak XC and New Balance 904) that got me to the Leadville finish line. It’s only a matter of time before runners chuck their old shoelaces into the trash and turn to the Boa Lacing System.

• All of the Leadville Trail 100 volunteers, including race organizers Ken Chlouber and Merilee O’Neal, who have worked tirelessly to make this one of the greatest, most epic events in the world.

• Chief, our dog, who guilt-tripped me out the door for countless miles.

(I’m sorry if I forgot anybody)

This Week In Running (Week of October 3 & October 4)

2009-09-30T06:00:00.000-04:00

Is October almost here already, or are we dreaming? The recent accomplishments of ultrarunner Geoff Roes of Douglas, Alaska are most certainly NOT a dream. Roes, just two weeks after setting a course record at the Wasatch 100, was at it again last weekend, setting another course record - this time at the Bear 100. When it comes to 100-mile races, Roes has been unstoppable, winning all 6 of the 100s he has entered (including 5 course records). Congrats Geoff !

Prior to taking a look at some (and only some) of the events taking place on the weekend of October 3 and October 4, let's take a quick look at the results from 2 of the races featured in last week's edition of TWIR.

Bear 100
1. Geoff Roes (18:43:37) *
2. Nick Pedatella (20:49:11)
3. Troy Howard (21:47:02)

1. Katherine Dowson (27:04:59)
2. Emily Mitzel (28:51:57)
3. Jamie Williams (29:00:08)

Vermont 50
1. Brian Rusiecki (7:12:29
2. Glen Redpath (7:19:06)
3. William Hibler (7:51:13)

1. Devon Crosby-Helms (8:06:16)
2. Sarah Dolven (8:41:39)
3. Serena Wilcox (9:00:49)

Moving right along, we kick things off this week with what is dubbed "without a doubt, the hardest 100 miler east of the 100th meridian," the Grindstone 100 (Friday, October 2 in Swoope, Virginia). Event #4 in the Beast Series, Grindstone offers "grit, endurance and temporary loss of sanity" over 100.73 miles and 23,200 feet of elevation gain and loss. Limited to just 100 runners, the course is an out-and-back, beginning with an ascent and descent of Little North Mountain before climbing 2,400 feet in 4 miles to the summit of Elliot Knob. After summitting Elliot Knob, runners head north following the ridge line of Great North Mountain, crossing over to and following the Wild Oak National recreation Trail before hitting the summit of Reddish Knob. Then it is north to Briery Branch Gap, the last stop before heading back along the course to Camp Shenandoah. The race offers a live webcast starting at 6:00 PM on Friday, October 2nd at http://www.eco-xsports.com/.

The Arkansas Traveller 100 is also taking place this weekend (Saturday, October 3-4 in Ouachita National Forest, Arkansas). The race covers quite a bit of surface alternatives - pavement, best gravel road (smooth), maintained gravel road, unmaintained gravel road, old road (4-wheeler trail) and the Ouachita Trail. In its 19th year, AT100 has a 66.2% finisher rate. Course records are held by James Kerby (15:37:26 in 2004) and Ann Trason (17:13:10 in 2002).

Arkansas Traveller 100 Elevation Profile

The Tussey mOUnTaiNBACK 50 Mile Relay and Ultramarathon again hosts the USA 50 Mile Championships (October 3, 2009 in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania) during peak foliage season in Rothrock State Forest. The course consists of fire roads (74% dirt and 26% paved) in Rothrock State Forsest, with terrain that includes, uphill, level and downhill grades, with shaded and open segments, and some overlook vistas. The course takes in Whipple Dam State Park, Alan Seeger Natural Area, Penn Roosevelt State Park, Colyer Lake and Bear Meadows Natural Area. The total elevation gain is 5,035 feet.

Tussey mOUnTaiNBACK Elevation Profile

Many ultrarunning eyes will be on Cleveland, Ohio and the 2009 US National 24 Hour Championship, the NorthCoast 24-Hour Endurance Run. Held at the scenic Edgewater Park in Cleveland directly adjacent to Lake Erie, the course travels around a loop of just under one mile. The top 3 American men and women finishers will be automatically selected to the national 24-hour team if they achieve certain minimum distances (135 miles for men, 120 for women). There are plenty of elite runners registered, including (and in no particular order) Dan Rose, Debra Horn, Connie Gardner, Jill Perry, Annette Bednosky, Serge Arbona, Phil McCarthy, Byron Lane, Akos Konya, Scott Jurek and Dave James.

There are several other ultra events taking place this weekend, including: Baker Lake 50k (Concrete, WA), StumpJump 50k Trail Run (Chattanooga, TN), Triple Lakes 40 Mile (Greensboro, NC), Table Mt. 50k Smart Ass / Poker Run (Gifford Pinchot Forest, WA), FATS Forty 40/50 (North Augusta, SC), Man Against Horse Race (Prescott, AZ), Blues Cruise 50k (Reading, PA), and Blue Sky 50k (Fort Collins, CO). You can check out the specific web-site of each of these events for more information.

That will wrap things up for this week. Come back next week for a look at some events scheduled for the weekend of October 10th and 11th, and let us know if there are any events happening that you would like featured in an edition of TWIR. Happy running !