Silent Trails 2013 + Always A Cowboy 8K + MORE!

One of the drawbacks of infrequent posting is that when one actually does post, there is quite a bit to cover.  That being the case here, let's do this.

I spent September putting in some easy, steady miles.  I ran trails two or three times a week, made myself be more diligent about strides and core work, and ran five or six days a week.  I was back to running 40-50 mpw comfortably.  I had previously made the decision not to race Jelm this year because I did not feel like suffering on that climb.  I also did not initially plan to race Always A Cowboy.  Elizabeth and I had plans to be in Denver that weekend.  However, that was the week of the epic deluge along the Front Range and we ended up having to stay put in Wyoming.  Given the destruction and casualties caused by that terrible flooding, we were better off up here staying safe.

Since I was around that Saturday morning, I warmed-up from my house down to Undine Park, registered, and hopped in the race.  I had no designed plan or goal, I was just there to run and catch up with folks.  Chris took the lead from the start along with Kyle, and I tucked in at the back of a couple other runners rounding out the lead pack.  We were running around 3:20/kilometer pace.  Not blazing, but not bad at 7200 feet.

As we came out of the Corthell neighborhood and circled LaPrele Park, I decided I could maybe run a little faster.  So around 4K, I took the lead and put a little gap on everyone.  Kyle covered that gap quickly, and by 5K, had taken the lead from me and was putting space between us.  I have done no speed work this year, so the 5:20/mile pace was feeling awfully quick.  Kyle put about 75-100m on me.  I thought, "I could really bear down and maybe reel him in, but it's going to hurt pretty bad."  So I stayed where I was.  I didn't lose any more ground to Kyle, but I refrained from trying to gain any back.  In the end, Kyle took the "W" and I came home in second in 27:40.  I was fairly happy with that.

Me and Mr. Schabron.

The weekend of Jelm, Elizabeth and I chose to get one more backpacking trip in before the weather turned (and turn it has).  We chose the Platte River Wilderness on the western slope of the Medicine Bow range for our overnighter.  It was warm and we had some difficulty fording a couple of creeks, but once we got over and along the Platte, it was peaceful and beautiful.

Pretty lady enjoying a pretty evening view.

Wonderful fall colors on display.

Camp along the North Platte River.

After that, I focused on getting as ready as I could for Silent Trails.  Horsecow was in town and talking smack, Sandra stopped through for the weekend on her way out to Maine, and even ol' Josh Fuller was present from Portland.  We had fun Friday night (not too much fun) and went up the hill in the morning for the race.

It just wouldn't be Silent Trails without some snow.

While we were spared the new normal race day blizzard, we did not escape snow.  It snowed up top two nights before, and most of it was still around.  The sun was out come start time, so a little snow under foot (though 1-2 foot drifts in a few spots along the course) was not bad at all.

Another year, another start.  L to R: Scott Foley, Horsecow a la Speedo, Nick Clark, Me, Chris Schabron.  Photo: Wendy Perkins.

Chris and I took the race out down Pole Creek before I settled back at the rear of a pack of about six runners, including Horsecow, Scott Foley, and Nick Clark, with Kyle and Nik Deininger right behind me.  We stayed that way down Pole Creek and up toward The Bitch (Death Crotch).  Chris, Scott, and another runner had taken off at that point.  I started the climb at the front of the second group until I lost my hat by hitting my head on a low-hanging tree branch.  I stopped to get it, allowing Horsecow to get in front of me.  I sat on him through what we call False Summits 1 and 2, when I slowed to a walk through a deeper drift.  That gave everyone else room to get by me, so I tucked back in at the back and suffered through the rest of the climb.

Leading up to the race, I had thought about strategy quite a bit.  In years past, I have bombed down Pole Creek at 5:30/mile pace with Jason Delaney only to fall deeply into oxygen debt at the start of the climb.  Once over my lactate threshold, I would spend the next few miles trying to recover enough to finish quickly.  

Other years, I have gone out more conservatively and tried to hammer the climb.  I would blow-up and again spend most of the next few miles trying to recover.  So, this year, with no Delaney in the race, I knew things would go out a little slower.  They did.  I then told myself the best thing for me to do would be to just get up the climb.  Don't waste any extra energy trying to hammer it.  If that worked out and I didn't lose too much ground to other racers, I thought I could focus on the latter half of the race.  In fact, the Wednesday before the race, I ran the first half of the course, including the climb, and then made myself tempo back to the Tie City.  I felt good doing it, so I decided that would be the best strategy for me.

I got to the top with Horsecow having lost a little ground to Clarkie and Deininger.  I started down onto Summit and immediately put a gap on Horsecow.  I wouldn't see him again.  As I started up the trail to the top of Brown's Landing, I was feeling pretty good, but was out in no-man's-land.  I caught a glimpse of a neon green shirt through the trees ahead and knew Clark was right in front of me.  And this year, I had no intention of letting him go.

Nick had one hell of a summer.  He raced Western States, Vermont, Leadville, and Wasatch, and pretty much destroyed them all.  Coming into Silent Trails, he was enjoying some well deserved time off.  His fitness was not great.  But I've never beaten Nick, and I wanted to badly.  The guy is one of the best ultra runners out there,  someone I look up to, and while he wasn't fit and running a race 1/10th the distance of his specialty, I still wanted to put my name in front of his on the results page.

I latched onto him at the top of Brown's.  He took off down to the landing and I went with him.  I wanted to stay on his shoulder and see what would happen.  As we started up toward Headquarters, we caught another runner named Tyler.  We came off the Overlook and onto Headquarters in a closely bunched group of three.  I was trying to decide when to make a move while waiting to see if Clark was going to make a move.  As we approached the junction with Summit, I was fiddling with my sunglasses when Nick made a one step move around us and went.  I looked up and saw his reason for doing so: we had caught a blown-up Scott Foley.

Tyler, me, and Clarkie on Headquarters.  Photo: Wendy Perkins.

Clark went and I thought, "Shit.  I let him get a jump on me which is something I specifically did not want to do."  I surged to catch up with him and we made it through the gate and around the turn up to Lower UW.  It was there that I chose to make my move.  I surged and kept pushing, trying to put as much space between the two of us as I could before Nick chose to hammer and take me out.  However, Nick didn't press, and before I knew it, I was running up on Deininger.  Coming into the campground and back onto the dirt road, I knew I had Clark beat.  I thought about really pressing and trying to catch Nik, but I knew he wasn't about to let me get around him and we were also running out of real estate in which to make that kind of move.  So I strode in 4th overall, ahead of Nick Clark and Horsecow.

Mr. Schabron, unknown to me, put over two minutes on the rest of field and brought home the victory for the Hungry Dogs.  He ran the best race I've ever seen him run.  This does mean, however, that I am now gunning for him.  This is not over.

Hungry Dogs.

Fuller, Horsecow, Schabby, and me.

Stalwart crew.

Silent Trails marks the end of my 2013 racing plans.  I have been through some emotional ups and downs this year in regards to running.  In the end, what makes the most sense is what Perry and Dr. Dan spoke of at this race.  Enjoy and appreciate the fact that we are alive and able to run.  There are eight guys who would love to be running but had that gift taken from them long before it should have been.  I want to settle in and find joy in running.  It's so important to me.  I want to work on getting myself into that headspace in the future.  I have focused too much on the negative recently.  Enjoy it.  Respect it.  Appreciate it.

One person who gets it is Elizabeth.  A couple months ago, she decided to sign up for the Denver Rock N' Roll Half-Marathon.  I was initially worried that she was doing it to appease me in some way, but she assured me it was something she wanted to do for herself.  So she trained diligently, getting up at 5am to get out and run.  She worked her butt off.  She set a goal, worked hard at it, and watched it come to fruition.  

My first crewing gig.  I owe her many more.

Oh, and Frank Shorter started the race.

We went down to Denver Saturday for the pre-race expo and packet pick-up.  Sunday morning, we rolled downtown for the race.  Elizabeth was excited and ready to go!  Her cousin Brian and I watched the start and then hoofed it up towards City Park to see her come around right after mile ten.  She did so with a smile on her face.

Happy runner.  Beautiful gal.

Elizabeth had done a half before, years ago in Eugene.  She said she didn't train much and didn't expect much from it.  She wanted to run faster than she did that day, and decided her goal time was 2:37 or 12:00/mile pace.  When we saw her near the park after mile ten, she was just behind the 2:30 pacer.  I thought, "Great!  She's well under her goal."  Brian and I walked back to the finish to see her come in.  She again smiled as she passed us and brought it home in 2:28.  Looking good and feeling good doing it!

I am very proud of her.  She crushed her goal and had fun.  That's the most important thing.

Happy finisher!

Brian and me with the champ.

There are many good things happening and potentially happening.  I am very excited about the future.  I think it's going to be great.

September

I've been listless and unfocused lately.  I've been thinking too much about getting lost.

Then September rolls in on a faint, cooling, crisp air and I am flooded with a million memories of blood, sweat, tears, ragged breath, rocks, trees, golf courses, icy hot, cramps, spaghetti dinners, and triumph and heartache with the closest of friends.  And it's almost too much to take.

I watched the Wyoming cross country team run by from my office window last week.  Young, fit, and fast looking.  I found myself stabbed by a pang of jealousy.  "You lucky bastards," I thought.  I remember that feeling.  Knowing that you are young and fit, that your summer training went well, and that you are back and ready to run faster than you ever have before.  I have a sense of longing for that feeling.  It is one that I will never feel again.

However, this air, this goddamn crisp fall air, so unique to Wyoming, is tugging at my mind, my heart, and my legs.  "Get outside..." it says.

I do not have to be young.  It does not have to be fast.  It can simply just be something.  Something I absolutely need to do.  

I was once a runner.  But, the truth is, I still am and I always will be.

2003 Wyoming Men's Cross Country team.  Albuquerque, NM.  L to R: Jeremy Thompson, Kyle Cheesbrough, Brian Knight, Jason Delaney, me, Brian Harnisch, Jason "Pudge" Sanders.

2004 Wyoming Men's Cross Country team.  Laramie, WY.  Back (L to R): Nick Cramer, me, Jeremy Thompson, Chris Schabron.  Front (L to R): Matt Hudson, Brian Harnisch, Brian Knight.

2005-2006 Wyoming Men's Distance Squad.  Provo, UT.  Back (L to R): Shadrack Too, Michael Huntington, Jeremiah Johnson, Brett Schuler, me, Philemon Tanui.  Front (L to R): Mark Korir, Brian Knight, Chris Schabron.

(Mis)Adventures

I went for my first run in almost a week this morning.  I'll get to why in a short while.

Elizabeth and I spent last weekend in the high, wide, and handsome land of Montana.  I find myself being more and more infatuated with the large state separating Wyoming from Canada.  It's still very similar to Wyoming, but the towns of Bozeman, Missoula, and my personal favorite, Helena, have a decent sense of liberalism (one that does not exist in Wyoming), delicious beer, awesome trails and mountains, and actual restaurants in which to eat.  Bozeman is a little on the yuppie/tourist side, but Helena is, in my opinion, what Laramie could possibly be if it ever got its shit together.  

Laramie is a college town.  Not "cowboy", not "Old West."  College.  And a pretty dumpy one at that.  The first things one sees entering Laramie from any direction are a) pawn shops, b) liquor stores, and c) some sort of junk yard.  Or Wal-Mart, which is really the same thing.  I love Laramie and have made it my home for eleven years, but it has potential, I feel, to be more.  I just am not sure what that would take, and I don't think I'm willing to beat my head against "tradition" to achieve it.  I can just go somewhere else where it already exists.

That rant was not my original intention, but that's where my mind wanders every time I come back to Wyoming from somewhere else.  And in true Wyoming parlance, I could say, "If you don't like it, leave.  We don't want you here anyway."  Might be time to heed that close-minded advice.

We were in Montana for a wedding in Helena, with stops to and fro, of course, in Bozeman.  Helena has trails right on the edge of town with Blackfoot River Brewing close by.  Pretty much a dream situation for yours truly.  On a running related note, I am looking at Elkhorn next August.  Lots of incentive to do it.

The wedding and weekend were great.  I ate way too much good food, drank delightful beer, ran a little bit, and kicked it with some amazing, generous, and hospitable folks.  

Helena, MT.

Pretty lady with great beer at Blackfoot River Brewing.

And we looked damn good at this wedding.

Everything was great.  Then this happened:

Eff.

This is the result of a piñata party gone wrong.  The wedding party took swings at a papier-mâché unicorn with no real success.  The bride stepped up to the plate, swung for all she was worth, lost the club (a broken/tapered 2x4 no less) and sent it sailing like a boomerang through the crowd.  It hit our friend Mariah, who was sitting on my left, directly above the eye, and clipped the side of my head on the ricochet.  I immediately started bleeding profusely, and after a few chaotic moments, we were put in a car and driven to the ER.

It took awhile to get admitted and all that jazz, but I did eventually get cleaned and stitched up.  No concussion or head trauma, just a nice, 3-centimeter cut.  Poor Mariah, however, was found to have a fractured skull that will require surgery to repair.  I apologize to her for not moving my giant head in front of hers.  Friends in Helena, you should definitely give my injury buddy a hug.

So, after that fun, we came home.  I didn't run because I wasn't sure how my head would feel.  It never really did hurt much.  When I got back, I remembered that for Valentine's Day, Elizabeth had bought me tickets to see my favorite band, Baroness, at the Bluebird.  I was also not sure how my head would like a loud metal show with moshing.  We decided to go anyway.

Baroness.

It was a great show.  I wore my earplugs and stayed out of the pit.  I will be sure to see these guys again when they undoubtedly come around in the future.

So, that's been a pretty eventful couple of weeks.  Classes start here next week, so all the students are back.  Life just got more treacherous in the Gem City.

Running Doldrums

I have once again been bitten by a lack of motivation and desire.  Since Bighorn, something has been a little off.  I just have not had the ability to get myself psyched up for running a bunch.  I've found it much easier lately to talk myself out of it, and when I do go running, I feel like I'm going through the motions with no real investment of emotion or love.

Elizabeth bought me a book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, by Haruki Murakami.  In one chapter, he describes his first ultra, a 62-miler in Japan.  He focuses significantly on his feeling after he finished.  At the end, he claims he was merely happy he did not have to run anymore.  There was no great sense of accomplishment or pride regarding pushing through and finishing the race.  And after, he too was listless and unmotivated.

That is exactly how I felt at Bighorn.  I was glad to be done.  Nothing more.  I still, after having time to reflect about it, am not happy with it and I still don't feel that sense of accomplishment.  None of the, "Hey, I did this!  I finished!"  I did 52 miles, and all I cared about was being done.  Then I would go out for runs in the weeks after and just feel...nothing.  It wasn't boredom per se, it was just...blah.  I could do it, I could not do it.  I was totally apathetic.

That was an issue when I went to Rainier a few weeks ago (more on that coming sometime).  One of the issues I am having is getting myself ready mentally to go do something like that.  I'm exhausted from psyching myself up to go out and run that long and that hard.  I get too easily frustrated, and until I can calm down, or teach myself to just go with it, I'm not sure the ultra races are something I really want to do.  Racing in general even; it all seems tedious to me right now.

I am trying to refocus and just go run.  And if I choose to race, it's going to be much shorter.  Physically and mentally, I do believe that my optimum racing is to be done between 10K and 30K.  Once I get over 20 miles, I am an asshole.

I did, however, run the Wyoming Race for the Cure last weekend.  A road 5K is something I've done so much that it's almost second nature and requires little to no psyching up, so that was good.  And RFTC is important to my family, considering my mother and my aunt are both breast cancer survivors.  I first ran the race in 1999, heading into my junior year of high school.  This race, always held mid-August, has been a pretty good barometer for measuring fitness coming off summer training and heading into the fall cross-country season.  This was my fourteenth RFTC.  I have missed one year, 2011, because I was a groomsman in a friend's wedding.

I wanted to help Schabby break 17 minutes.  He has run every day for nearly three years.  However, he hasn't gone sub-17 in some time, something he lamented to me on a run recently.  So, I told him I would pace him through the race and we would go under 17.  And we did.  I took him through the first mile in 5:17, and implored him to hang on.  I did lose him a little on a hill in the middle of mile two.  I hoped he had enough to hang on.  He did, eventually crossing the finish in 16:56.  Mission accomplished.

Hungry Dogs.  Old guys.  Schabby and me around mile one, with Jerry not far behind.  Photo: Gabe Floud.

Me, I got myself into a battle with a couple of 17-year old high school runners.  Both kids made their moves too soon and I was able to out kick them at the end for 6th place in 16:28.  I am getting old (this was my first race in the 30-39 age category), and I still have a lot of stupid pride left.  The kids will learn as they gain experience.  I swear, I now rely more on muscle memory and wiles than I do on fitness or skill.  If those kids keep with it, they'll figure it out.  That said, I got beat by two 24-year olds, two 19-year olds, and an 18 year old.  But I cleaned up that 30-39 division!

Now that I contradicted my first paragraphs with my last paragraph, I will end this.  I will get something written up (with PICTURES) on my Wonderland Trail experience soon.  It will be short, much like our run.  And I will continue to get out a run what I can.  It's coming back a little bit.  

Here's a song that's awesome.

The Wonderland Trail - Preface

I am hitting the road tomorrow morning to make my way, once again, to Mount Rainier.  However, unlike last year when we scaled it, I will be attempting to run its circumference on the Wonderland Trail, a 93-mile long trail that circumnavigates the mountain.  Josh Fuller and I will be running ~50K each day for three days.  Horsecow has had to pull out due to injury, but has agreed to come hang out regardless.  We will be crewed by the lovely and amazing Elizabeth and Cassie, who are being total team players while their respective partner and husband pursue another foray of questionable sanity.  Thank you so much in advance!

We'll run Tuesday through Thursday of next week.  The first day will start at Longmire and end 32-33 miles and 6000-7000k of climbing later at Mowich Lake.  Wednesday is our short day, a measly marathon from Mowich to White River.  Thursday we leave White River and hopefully finish back at Longmire, 34 miles later.  This is a stout undertaking, but one I believe we can handle.  We are not pursuing any FKTs, so we have all day, each day, to get things done.

I had to drop out of Alec's 6-hour race early on Saturday because my legs, particularly the right leg, and my back all rebelled around mile 15.  It was an odd feeling to go from seemingly fine to walking in the matter of a few steps.  My calves are just now starting to loosen up, and only after a) not running a step this week, b) near constant stretching, and c) hammering them with self-massage.  I woke up Tuesday morning with a lower back so tight I could barely get out of bed.  It felt like it did back in December when I was sidelined for a month.  However, things seem to be coming around, and as long as I am diligent about stopping frequently to stretch while I'm on the road the next two days, I hope a day of relaxing in the park on Monday will allow me to be ready to run Tuesday.

And if it sucks, or something happens, we (or I) stop.  Not a big deal.

I'm excited for this.  I've been thinking about it for a year.  And I think this kicking it at Mount Rainier the last week of July thing may have to become a yearly tradition.

Below is my current favorite song (plus another one that is also fantastic) from my current favorite band.  I cannot stop listening.  The Sweetest Curse has a series of riffs that, in my opinion, are some of the best I have ever heard.  And I am and always have been all about the riff.  I grew up on Hetfield, what can I say?

End of June...On To Some Miles

I took the week after Bighorn easy mostly due to being too sore to run.  I did get a nice trail run in on my birthday and Elizabeth and I hiked a portion of Rock Creek trail.

Yeah, so I'm 30 now.  I have to remember that when I register for races in the future.

I also don't have to compete against 22-year old guys who are straight out of college anymore.  Sweet.  Except that when it comes to trail races where the folks in the 30-40 age group are the ones kicking all the butt.  

Last week was a good training week and a great way to finish the month out strong.  I'm going to try to ramp up some miles in the next two or three weeks before taking off for Rainier and the Wonderland Trail.  I won't get to 90mpw, but I can get to 70+ and call it good.  And then hope I can do back-to-back-to-back ultras.  I'll have fantastic company so I'm not too worried.

Mon. June 24 - 5M in :36.  Post work run in the prairie.  My allergies were kicking my butt and running wasn't a lot of fun.  Tried a new medication that seems to be working like a charm.  Fenceline loop.  

Tues. June 25 - 7.5M in :58.  Tuesday Night Trails.  The mountain bike series races are going and we had to deal with congested trails.  Therefore, we are officially moving trails to Wednesday evenings.  We started from Summit trail head, went out Summit, down Haunted Forest, up Super Secret, out Summit loop and Browns, and in on Headquarters.  Mosquitoes are also now officially out en masse.  And they are thirsty.

Wed. June 26 - 9M in 1:09. Morning run.  Trying to avoid the midday-afternoon heat.  House to prairie, fenceline, Owl Canyon, home.  A little sluggish the first half, then pretty relaxed the second half.

Thurs. June 27 - 8M in :56.  I stole a track workout from Deininger.  House to track, form drills, then 4x(2x200m/200m rec, 400m/400m rec).  Splits were 41, 38, 76, 38, 38, 76, 38, 37, 76, 39, 37, 74.  Something always feels pretty good about running a little faster on the track.

Fri. June 28 - 5.5M in :39.  Greenbelt south loop.  Quick morning run.  Shorter to recover from track workout/set myself up for some weekend mileage.

Sat. June 29 - 10.5M in 1:28.  Morning run with Jefe and Patrick.  Big Headquarters loop.  Got a later start (8 a.m.) and we were quite warm by the end.  Not a bad run.  My back and hips are a little sore, but I figured that would happen when I jumped up the mileage this week.  Have to stay diligent about stretching/core work.

Sun. June 30 - 19M in 2:35.  I was going to do 2xSilent Trails loop, but I was tired after the first loop, so I went out on a shorter Headquarters-Browns-Summit loop.  I ran the first loop with my pack so I can start getting used to running with it again before I go to Rainier.  Cooler morning, wheels just fell of a little at the end.

Week's Totals: 64.5M (8:21)

January: 107 (15:29)
February: 132 (18:29)
March: 170 (21:25)
April: 158 (21:26)
May: 195 (26:42)
June: 222 (35:13)
2013: 981 (138:45)

Gear: Asics Speedstar 6 (120M), Saucony Peregrine 2 (272M), Asics GT-2000 G-TX (294M)

Bighorn Trail 50-Mile

"Death in the company of friends is like a festival."

-Afghan proverb

I experienced a full range of emotions during my fifty miles on course in the Bighorn Mountains.  I was at points elated, soaking in the beauty of the landscape around me.  I shared some great moments with others.  I sank into despair, wallowed in self-pity, was frustrated, angry, sick and tired.  And once I finished, I was not happy.  I was merely relieved it was over.

Elizabeth, Patrick, and I drove up to Sheridan Thursday afternoon.  The Laramie crew congregated at the Fullers' home there and enjoyed a party and magnificent hospitality courtesy of Judy and Jeff Fuller.  It was great to see Josh and Cassie again.  The Frenchs arrived, Sam Vogel and his friend Nathan were there, and we were graced with the presence of one Horsecow Lonac and our old, dear friend Sandra.  Everyone was in good spirits, though some nervous energy was bubbling under the surface.

Good friends, good times.  Photo by Elizabeth.

Friday morning we all went out to Dayton to see Josh off on the start of the 100-miler (he would feel the effects of having lived in Portland, OR for the last year and, succumbing to altitude sickness, would drop out around mile 40), then gathered back in Sheridan.  We grabbed lunch at Java Moon Cafe and ate it at Blacktooth Brewery, where our buddy Steve is now the assistant brew master.  Do what you can to find their Saddle Bronc Brown Ale and Black Eagle Baltic Porter.  Simply delicious.

After lunch we all went to The Sport Stop to pick up our race packets and drop-off our drop bags.  Some confusion ensued as we attempted to figure out who was going with who, and who had their things in someone else's vehicle. At that point, Elizabeth and I decided it was time to get out of town and head up the mountain.  

The 50-mile starts at the Jaws trail head on the western side of the Bighorns at six in the morning.  Therefore, the race buses racers up there from Dayton.  That bus leaves at 4 am.  If one stays in Sheridan, one needs to get up around 3 am in order to get to Dayton to make the bus.  Therefore, we chose to camp at North Tongue campground near Burgess Junction.  It was about a 25-30 minute drive from there to the start.  I got to sleep until four.

Elizabeth and I set up camp and then went for a quick, short hike down to Porcupine Falls, which is one of my favorite places in the Bighorns.  After that, it was dinner next to the North Tongue River, a quick campfire, then bed.

Porcupine Falls.

Moose friends along Highway 14.  Photo by Elizabeth.

Cool shot by Elizabeth.

Bighorn sunset.  Photo by Elizabeth.

I got up Saturday morning, made some breakfast and coffee and drove to the start.  I met up with Horsecow, Lee, Sandra, Sam and Patrick and waited for things to get started.  When they did, it was fairly cool (I started with a long-sleeved shirt and gloves) with a wonderful sunrise.  The first mile or so is cross-country through a field of sage brush before bottle-necking down to a single track trail in the trees.  Those first few miles were sloppy.  There was still a little snow on the course.

Gathering for the start.  L to R: Sandra, me, Sam Vogel, Horsecow.  Photo by Elizabeth.

Ready to go.  Sam Malmberg joins us for a photo.  Then he kicked our butts.  Photo by Elizabeth.

Couple of hungry dogs ready to rock.  Nik did most of the rocking.  Me, not so much.  Photo by Elizabeth.

Photo by Elizabeth.

Horsecow, me, and Lee (red shirt).  That was the trio for the first half of the race.  Photo by Elizabeth.

I ran with Horsecow and Lee, with Nik either right behind us or right in front of us all the way down into the Foot Bridge aid station, which, at 18 miles in, was our first drop bag station.  I sat for maybe five minutes, changed shoes, ate some food, applied some sunscreen, and we were on our way up the dreaded Wall.  Foot Bridge would be the last time I saw Nik, who would go on to have a great race, finishing 13th overall in 9:19:45.

I was worried about The Wall since I have not been climbing well as of late, so I chose to just walk the damn thing and let it happen.  Lee and Horsecow put a gap on me there, but I feel pretty good about how I climbed and felt at that point.  The wildflowers along the trail were incredible, prompting me to joke with the volunteers at the Bear Camp aid station at the top of The Wall that I tried really hard to be angry about the climb, but could not when I was surrounded by all that scenery. 

I caught up with Lee and Horsecow at Bear Camp and we three again took off on a seven mile section of rolling trail toward Cow Camp.  I was feeling good at that point, so I took the lead from Lee who had set the pace most of the morning.  I maybe pushed a little too hard there.  I also clipped a rock with my foot, and much like Quad Rock, I did not actually fall, but tweaked my back catching myself and was never quite right after that.  A couple of miles from Cow Camp, I started to fall apart.  Lee and Horsecow went on without me.  I wouldn't see them again.

I struggled into Cow Camp feeling pretty beat.  Cow Camp is colloquially known as the "Bacon Station" since the volunteers there fry up bacon for racers all day long.  I sat down with a plate of bacon, some fried potatoes, and took a break.  I hit the trail with a PB&J/bacon sandwich (which was delightful) and started my way toward Dry Fork, where my second drop bag would be.

I had a bad time between Cow Camp and Dry Fork.  I walked a lot of it.  Most of that section is exposed, and the midday sun was getting warm.  I started to get passed a lot, which didn't help my state of mind.  I talked briefly with a guy from Eugene, OR before he, too continued ahead of me.  Then I heard a familiar voice behind me.  "Go cowboys," Patrick said as he came up beside me.  I forced myself to run with him as we chatted about how our days were going.  Patrick was feeling good and looked good.  I, on the other hand, had decided that if Elizabeth was at Dry Fork, which we had discussed but never committed to, I was going to drop.  I had had enough at that point, and thought 34 miles was as far as I wanted to go.  I had committed myself to a DNF.  You win, Bighorn.

I stumbled into Dry Fork, grabbed my drop bag and plopped down.  Patrick patted my shoulder as he left the aid station to continue.  Elizabeth was not there, so I wasn't sure what to do.  Bighorn markets the race as a 50-miler, but in reality it is 52 miles, so sitting there at one in afternoon, I was sure I did not have 18 more miles in me.  However, as I dug through my drop bag, I discovered a note Elizabeth had sneaked in there the day before.  I won't get into particulars, but it made me smile, tear up, get up, and get my ass going.  Also, they had microwaved pizza in the aid station tent, of which I ate four slices.  

I walked out of Dry Fork up a dirt paved road.  It was getting warm, so I took it easy.  We tackled a short climb before dropping down onto a forest road and eventually some single track.   I started to feel okay and ran most of that section into the Upper Sheep Creek aid station.  After that, my race was miserable.

Out of Upper Sheep Creek, we had one last, fairly brutal climb.  It wasn't overly long, but it was steep, and after 40 miles, it just sucked.  Once over the saddle, the trail drops down steeply into Tongue River canyon.  That four or five miles was awful.  On blown quads, I had to walk DOWNHILLS.  It was the first time in my life I said out loud to myself, "I could really go for some uphill right now."  That descent was frustrating.  I knew I was getting closer and wanted badly to run, but I physically could not.  I was toast.

I recouped a little at the Lower Sheep Creek aid station where they told me, "Hey, only 7.2 miles to go."  I thought that was just about the best damn thing I had heard all day.  I could do 7.2 miles.  Hell, now that I was in the canyon, with a fairly flat dirt road into town ahead of me, I even thought I could finish within an hour and a half.  That was not to be.

As I jogged out of Lower Sheep Creek, two things happened.  One, it started to get very hot.  At 4 pm, with the sun beating down into the canyon, the rock walls trapped and radiated heat.  After the race, Patrick would tell me that was the hottest temps he had ever experienced in the canyon.  Two, my stomach started to cramp badly, mostly due to the heat.  I don't run well in heat.  Stomach cramps are usually one of my biggest issues when the temperature gets over 80.  I had to stop along the side of the trail to deal with that particular issue, once again getting passed by several more people.

By the time I got to the last aid station, I had resigned myself to walking the final five miles.  Every time I started to run, my stomach cramped too much and with us approaching town, there was no longer any place to stop if I needed to.  I walked down the road.  And walked.  And walked.  Longest five miles ever.

I finally got into Dayton and forced myself to jog into the park and through the finish line.  Everyone was there and the cheers were quite welcome and appreciated.  Fuller had a beer in my hand before I even came to a complete stop.  I was ecstatic to no longer be moving.  55th overall in 11:36 was not what I had hoped for, but I pushed through when I had really resigned myself to quitting.  I gingerly pulled off my shoes and stood knee deep in the river next to Scott Park.  I thanked Elizabeth for all the help and especially that note.  That woman is absolutely, unequivocally amazing.  I'm ridiculously fortunate to have her in my life.

Patrick finishes!  Photo: Elizabeth.

Horsecow, now crippled, struggles home.  Photo: Elizabeth.

Finally effing done.  Photo: Elizabeth.

That finish line banner was one of the most beautiful sight these ol' eyes have seen.  Photo: Elizabeth.

Horsecow, Johnna, Jefe, and Cassie relax.  Photo: Elizabeth.

Not sure they are "victory" beers, but they sure were something.  Photo: Elizabeth.

Everyone else, it seems, ran really well.  Sam Malmberg killed it for 5th overall in 8:38, Patrick took third in his age group with a 10:39, Lee ran 10:13, and Horsecow pushed through in 10:47.  Jeff, Johnna, and Jason Roesler ran well in the 50K, and Steve Lipetzky was 4th overall in the 30K.  And awesome Sandra finished the 50-miler at a dead sprint with arms pumping like a boss.  She enjoyed her day in the mountains!

      

They should hire Sandra to market ultras.  She makes it look fun!  Photo: Elizabeth.

While disappointed with the outcome, I am pleased I finished.  I turn thirty at the end of this week, and Bighorn was the last stupid thing I wanted to do in my twenties.  It would be insignificant if I had DNF'd.  I dedicated myself to this running thing when I was 15 years old, so for half my life, I have been a runner. In those 15 years, I have never not finished a race.  I am proud of that.

This race brought out a lot of emotions and made me ask a lot of questions about myself.  I am still struggling with the competition instinct within myself, and I think that is taking away from the overall experience of something like this.  There were moments when I reveled in what was around me, but I spent so much more of it fighting myself inside my own head.  I don't like that feeling, and it's starting to wear me out.

I wasn't as focused on the training build-up for this race as I could have been and should have been, and I believe it has to do with a lack of interest in training like that.  I just want to run.  Whatever and however I feel.  I feel like I forced myself into this a little.  Not that I did not want to do it, but it was a challenge to wrap my head around it.  I guess, ultimately, I took a risk and though it did not pan out as well as I wanted, it did pan out.  I did finish.  And I need to be happy with that.

Once I am not too sore and can finally run again, I am going to approach things in a different fashion.

One final thanks to all the fine folks who helped out, the volunteers at all the aid stations, all the other fine runners with whom I crossed paths, the Fullers for the hospitality, my friends for the support and for kicking maximum ass out there, and to Elizabeth for putting up with me during all this.  I know that is not always much fun.

So, this time again next year, maybe?