Double Timp, Kat'cina Mosa 100k, Wasatch 100

[Left: Double Timp] Wow, what a summer. I've not posted for a while, so I have some catching up to do. I thought I better get something together before my final race of the season.

Following Bighorn, I had to recover from my injuries while preparing for Kat'cina Mosa 100k. I first summitted Timp on July 5 while there was still a lot of snow below the saddle, and went up again the following week. I was feeling pretty recovered July 19, so I decided to do a "double Timp" from Timpooneke. That is going to the summit and back twice in a row. I know of only a few others that have done it. The second trip was especially slow on the way up. Roundtrip was 11:07, and I saw many groups four times as I passed them on each trip. Kat'cina Mosa was two weeks later.

[Right: Kat'cina Mosa start] August 2nd, with the very early start of 3am, I started my third 100k experience. I had run Kat'cina Mosa the year before as my longest race at that time, and suffered greatly. This year, with much more experience, I wasn't too stressed on time. I was most worried about finishing the race with injury. Last year, I started out running up most of the first 15 miles and wore myself out early. This year, I would not run as much, but power walk up the major climb out of Hobble Creek. This strategy put me behind my times from last year, but I planned on making up time on the second half of the race. Ultimately, I wasn't concerned about my time, and just wanted to have a good race day regardless of time.

[Right: near Lightening Ridge] The first killer climb is out of Rock Canyon over Lightening Ridge. I felt much better this time, climbing over and dropping to Big Springs easily. But then the hot walk to Windy Pass did me in. I didn't have enough water for that stretch and the heat zapped me. I slowed down considerably in this section (and lack of water was really bad), so I was much relieved to final get to Windy Pass. After getting my self refueled, I powered onto Little Valley. This section had taken my a lot of time last year, but I was able to run most of it (false flat to slight incline, with dips) and made up a lot of time here. Little Valley was nice, but I knew the next section hurt me last year the most, the hot climb to Bathtub. It isn't a very steep climb, but it is long and exposed in the afternoon. I felt pretty good through this section and even caught up with Jarom, who had problems (it just finished Badwater a couple weeks earlier, so I think he was still recovering from that experience). I had walked the last couple miles into Bathtub, so I felt good to move on while Jarom continued to rest. At this point, I had plenty of energy to power walk up the final climb that was so difficult the year before, and began the long descent to the finish (about 13 miles). Not wanting to push too hard, I let my time slip as I walked and ran the next distance, finally dropping to Hobble Creek before dark. I started on the last five miles with my headlamp and soon came across a runner with no light. His headlamp didn't work and he was pretty discouraged. I walked and ran the next mile with him, but it was soon apparent he couldn't run anymore. With three miles left, I walked the final distance with him. I finished in just under 20 hours, slower than last year, but injury free!

[Left: training run at Mill Hollow] The next several weeks were difficult for training runs. We had a family reunion at Mill Hollow in the Uintas, so I got only a meager seven mile run in the next weekend, then had TERT High Camp the following weekend. With just one last weekend for a training run, I asked Phil and Davy what I should do. The recommendation was to run the last 25 miles of the Wasatch course from Brighton to the finish. I was able to get a ride to Brighton, and Joye agreed to meet me in Midway, so at 7:30am, I started my final long run.
[Right: Lake Catherine, above Brighton] The first stretch was a long climb to the highest point on the Wasatch course, about 10,400 feet, followed by a steep drop and another steep climb. I knew these would be much more difficult on race day. One problem I had was the course wasn't marked and I was trying to follow mostly written directions, so I made a few bad turns. I passed through Ant Knolls and Pole Line Pass and began the stretch to Rock Springs trying not to drink too much water, because I didn't know how much Rock Springs would have for me. There were many dirt bikes on the trails that day, and even mountain bikes. I arrived at Rock Springs to discover it was barely a trickle. It was a very warm day, so I waited half an hour to refill my water, then decided I needed to continue. [Left: between Ant Knolls and Pole Line Pass] The "dive" and "plunge" are also very steep drops, followed by steep climbs, which combined by with the heat, slowed me down. A few more bad turns and I soon was realizing I didn't have enough water. I missed one more turn and found myself in a community that I knew was wrong. Out of water, my run was over and I talked Joye to my position. I had run enough that day. Now I had two weeks to worry about Wasatch.

[Right: on Timp] Labor Day I spent on Timpanogos with TERT. I hiked up Friday evening, then ran down Saturday night (last part in the rain) to be home Sunday, then went up Sunday evening in down pour and lightening, to be there Monday for the snow at 10,000 feet. Labor Day was cold and windy, and I had to be moving to stay warm. Overall, spending that time at elevation was good prep for Wasatch.

One of the hardest parts with a race such as Wasatch 100 is planning the right gear for the right place. I spent hours thinking about projected times into aid stations, when I would want certain gear, what could happen, what might happen. Poor planning could be disastrous on race day. In addition, my dad and sister volunteered to meet me at a couple aid stations along the way. I never had a crew before, and really didn't know how to plan for that, so I just assumed I needed to plan without them there. Friday before the race, I'd had to have all my drop bags ready, I left home 1pm Friday with hopefully everything ready for the next morning. Planning was over, now it was time to execute.

[Left: waiting to start] Saturday morning came. It pretty warm morning, and the first part of the race was in the dark. I felt good, and ran many of the early sections to get in the front half of the group to keep a faster pace. Sun came, but it stay cool, and the wind picked up. At the ridge lines, it was almost too cold.
I arrived at the first aid station a few minutes ahead of schedule, the first real test of my goals. That was exciting, I got water, grabbed more Gu, and headed out. I was ahead of schedule with about 20 miles down. The next several aid stations I would see additional time gains. The weather was about perfect (cool, not cold, with sun) and I felt great. I did have a funny bug bite in this section while running downhill. I think something got down my shirt and bit me when it got pressed upon by my pack. It hurt really bad, and I tried to put some mud on it to draw out poison (nothing else to do about it). I didn't swell then, but continued to hurt for hours.

Big Mountain was the next major aid station at about mile 40, and I arrived 25 minutes ahead of schedule. There were lots of people there (crews, pacers), and lots of runners getting attention. I spent 5 minutes there, the longest stay yet (partly because I didn't know where to get my drop bag as I walked through), and was out. I had a mission, get to Lambs Canyon before dark.

[Left: hot afternoon] The afternoon heat was bad now, and we had still a good amount of climbing. I walked uphill and ran downhill when possible, and drank a lot of water. I started taking one Succeed tablet every 30 minutes, and I could feel that I need it. The wind was gone, so we were getting cooked. I saw a couple deer (the only large animals the whole race) when we turned off a road about half-way through the race (50 miles), which I hit around 13:30, and it was still daylight! My first race I didn't hit half-way until around 11pm. Another hour and I arrived at Lamb's Canyon (where we cross under I-80), another major aid station. I took my first "natural" break in a portable toilet (whew!), and had some grilled cheese sandwiches and hot soup (yum!). It was dark when I left there at 8:10pm. I had arrived one hour ahead of my schedule and was still feeling great.

[Right: coming into Lambs] The climb out of Lambs was paved road for a couple miles until we turned onto a trail. It was a good climb still, but I was moving strong. It was dark, but my spirits were high and I came across several groups on the trail. When we crested and started back down, I decided to run. The problem was I couldn't see the trail well with the overgrowth, so I had a couple spectacular trips and had to struggle to keep myself from face planted, grabbing young aspen trees and de-leafing them in the process. I still made good time and came to the Millcreek road, which was still a three mile walk uphill to Upper Big Water. I was an hour ahead of schedule and uncertain if my dad and sister would be there waiting, but I power walked up the hill maintaining a good pace (this was a LONG stretch to walk, and seemed to go forever).

I arrived just after 23:00 and found my family there. I had a few things to decide before heading out, the night was just starting and it was already pretty cool. I put on my pants and headed out, thinking I probably didn't need them 15 minutes later. Oh well, I was stuck with them now. I passed by Dog Lake just after midnight (not very spectacular to see), and Desolation Lake around 01:20 (even less spectacular), but the stars were out and it was clear. I found myself chilled if I stopped moving for just a couple minutes, so the key was to keep moving. I could see the outline of ridges that were the deepest dark, with the stars behind them. It was beautiful to behold. Then there were occasional buildings with lights that I assume were ski lifts and maintenance buildings, not something I was accustomed to see at 9 to 10 thousand feet. They were silent and ominous in the dark. I thought many times about seeing animals (bears, moose, cougar), but never saw anything. The night time moved on and the stars rotated above me.

Scott's Peak was the highest aid station, at the top before dropping down to Brighton. They had a tent with a heater running and it felt like an oven, so I didn't stay long. The downhill now was beginning to be painful, and I had felt some some pains of old injuries, so I was mindful not to push myself on this section. Orion was rising over the hill as I continued on in the dark. I walked mostly and still made it into Brighton at 04:20, where my original goal was 05:00. I was doing great!

Brighton was busy, runners and crew bustling about, some sleeping in dark rooms, others chatting over breakfast. Mmmm, hot breakfast. Nice warm lodge. Friendly people. It was difficult not to get stuck there, eating, chatting, letting time slip slowly away. I told myself I would only spend 30 minutes there, that would keep me ahead of schedule. I washed my face with a rag and reapplied sunscreen. I replenished my stock of Succeed, strapped on a waist pack to carry two bottles full of water for the hot day ahead, and ate. There was one problem, my pacer was no where to be seen. Friday, at the pre-race meeting, Brian said he was looking for somebody to run from Brighton to the finish with. He as going to pace a friend to Brighton, expecting to arrive at 01:00, and would sleep a few hours until I arrived. It sounded like a good plan, and I didn't mind the thought of having somebody to run the last 25 miles with, so I agreed. Now it was 4:50 and Brian was no where to be found. We believe we found his car in the parking lot, but no Brian. We continued looking and soon it was 5:15. I needed to leave. I needed to leave. No pacer. No problem. I left at 5:20, now behind schedule for the first time.

The pre-dawn screen was brilliant, especially as I climbed to the highest point on the course over the next hour. I didn't take a picture because I knew it wouldn't have turned out anywhere close to the view, but I wish I did anyway. I had good energy on the climb and dropped down to Ant Knolls, taking the downhill cautiously. I knew the trail from here to the last couple miles, so I was confident in what I needed to do. I gained a little time to Ant Knolls and then pressed on up "the grunt", a short but painfully steep climb, knowing that I would have a nice run into Pole Line Pass. I made up a little more time into Pole Line, but took a little too long relaxing there. I soon was back to my feet and going on. The trail to Rock Springs was in the shade still, and the air was cool, so I decided to press hard through this section, running most of the way and coming into Rock Springs 15 minutes ahead of schedule. This is the aid station I had been at for previous years, so I knew what it took to be there. My good friends Jeff and Lance had made the trek (though Lance was sleeping at the time), so I got filled with water and walked out for what I knew was ahead. I was a couple hours ahead the time I did the training run two weeks earlier, so it was a little cooler and I was able to power up the hills, drinking lots of water. At this point in the race, the miles and hours just seem to pass away without much thought, and the next thing I knew, I had made it to the final aid station at Pot Bottom.

Now all that lie ahead was a couple miles uphill, followed by relentless downhill. My feet were tender and I actually had an easier time running down than walking. So I relaxed my legs and feet and let myself tear down the road. I had missed the turnoff two miles from the end on my training run, but there was no way to miss it today (it was well marked and even taped to prevent you going the wrong way). I hadn't seen this last section, so it seemed to go on forever through very runnable singletrack, which then flattened out as it wrapped around by the golf course. I slowed down here and was finally passed by a few runners (I was mostly passing since Brighton), and finally the last mile on asphalt came into view.

I had been pushing myself and decided that a sub 33 hour finish was very doable. Originally, my goal had been 34 hours, which I considered ambitious since I had finished the Bear 100 last year in just under 35 hours, and Bighorn in just under 34 hours. I was beating my best 100 by almost an hour! And I felt like I hadn't injuried myself doing it. My concern was now whether Joye would be at the finish for me. She was planning on being there around 2pm, and I was going to finish before then. My past performances had been behind schedule, making her wait for me to finish, so I hoped she had seen my times ahead earlier and would be there. I made the final turn into the homestead, across the lawn and run across the finish to the cheers of the waiting crowd and into the arms of Joye! What a finish! 33:50:52 was my official time and 101st place. Out of the 241 that started, only 162 finished, so about one-third dropped out of the race. Among those that dropped were many friends that I had run previous races with. But among the finishers were also many others.

A week post-race, I'm doing great, almost fully recovered and ready to go out and run again. I decided to give myself a full week off before putting in a little training. The Bear is coming up in just over 11 days, so I need to recover fully, but not de-train. I'm looking forward to the race, and with a 36 hour cutoff, should be able to finish even if I cut way back.

There is something about doing a race that starts in the dark, goes through an entire day, continues through the night, and goes on for another day. Sitting back, it is an uniquely satisfying thing to behold at the end, and I'm struggling for the words to describe it. It is truly inspiring. The Bear awaits.