Bear 100

Last year, the Bear 100 was my first 100 mile race, and I barely finished it under the cut off time. This year, the course was changed and made more difficult. This would be a test of how I had improved over the last 12 months.

Finishing Wasatch 100 earlier in the month had been a high point, a PR on the hardest course yet. Now the challenge was whether I would be recovered enough to complete another 100 miler in the same month, only 19 days apart. I finished Wasatch with no notable injuries, so I gave myself one week of recovery, then decided to run the second week. The first 6.2 mile run was very bad, I stopped to walk frequently; muscles, joints, tendons complaining along the way. After a day's rest, the same run went much better. Then I ventured onto Timp for would probably be my last summit of the year. The weather was threatening, with lightening and rain all around, but I made it without getting hardly wet at all. The last five days would be spent resting and eating.

The new Bear 100 starts in Logan, heads basically NE and ends on Bear Lake just inside Idaho. There were a couple thousand feet of elevation added to the course over last year. Only a handful of miles are the same as the old course, otherwise this is entirely a new creature. Also, planning for this race would be different as I had my dad and sister crewing me the entire course. This allowed me to pack many of my essentials in a single bag and have it follow me throughout the race. I did have to plan for one potential issue: missing them at an aid station. I would counter this issue by having minimal drop bags at other aid stations that would give me supplies if needed.

The first 20 miles in the pre-dawn and early morning went extremely well. I even managed to pass Davy Crockett early on for a little bit. The new course had a major climb from the start, but luckily we were in the shade most of the early part, on the West side of the mountains. And it could be said that I actually enjoyed myself and had fun. This was the last race of the season and I knew I would finish.

After meeting my crew at Leathom Hollow (approx. mile 20), I started feeling the first signs of defeat: old injuries complaining and new ones starting. Particularly, I began noticing my left achilles tendon was having trouble. I let up a little on the pace and began to slow down, seeing a slower finish as better than a DNF. I still enjoyed the day, but didn't make it to Tony Grove, just past halfway, until after dark.

It was at Tony Grove that the temperatures began to fall. I made a decision to continue without pants, but knowing that another pair waited for me up the trail. The night was clear and beautiful. It was at this time that I became aware that my defeat in meeting my time goals was not the steep climbs, but the gentle ones. I could not find the strength to run on flats and slight climbs, I could only walk fast. In all my calculations for time goals, my assumptions were failing. It was disappointing to see the time slip by, knowing that my original sub 30 goal was also slipping by. Also, various pains warned me not to push myself less I bring on some serious injury.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, around 2am, I was going along and heard a large animal move on the other side of bushes ahead of me. I swung my light around to see if I could get a glimpse, and the brush next to me cast a shadow onto the trail. Now, the mind is a amazing thing, and when it has limited information, it fills in the gaps with what it knows. I had been thinking about the possibility of running across a bear, so when the shadow appeared to be moving down the trail towards me, my mind told me it was a bear running down the trail. My heart jumped and a sense of panic gripped me for the moment. But that moment was brief, and I soon rational discovered it was only a shadow, and then the large animal let out a "moo"-ish sound. It was only a cow! I had been running around cow pies most of the race, so cow should have been the first thing I though of and not bear.

[Left: At Right Hand Fork, mile 37] It was also through the night that around problem developed: getting lost. I had heard earlier that some drunk on a horse had torn down a bunch of trail markings, and at night, it would have been easy to miss a turnoff. I had lost the trail coming into Tony Grove, nearly going around the lake the wrong way (which would have been very difficult), and a couple times barely missed going down the wrong trail due to bad or lost trail markings. I would hear later of several runners DNF'ing because they missed the trail and lost significant time. Whenever I would go a while without seeing a marking, and the trail was at all questionable, I would begin to panic a little. I even thought I must have missed an aid station because I had mistakenly thought it was closer than it really was.

[Right: At Tony Grove, mile 52] I also took opportunity through the night to do something I wished I had during Wasatch. I stopped in the trail, with nobody visible ahead or behind me, and turned off all my lights and looked up. Being so far from any major cities, the sky was brilliant, with more stars visible than my eyes could process. I savored that moment, but soon realized how cold I was getting and that I needed to get moving again. That was a wondrous moment, one I still reflect upon weeks later.

[Left: Inside Beaver Lodge, mile 76] Beaver Lodge was another difficult trail section. I had come to the road but didn't know whether to go up or down. I read the description of the trail I carried several times, but not until some other runners came along did I finally head the right way. I probably lost 20 minutes wandering around trying to figure out where the trail was. Walking into Beaver Lodge was a great relief. I had some GI issues, probably from eating too much food the day before, and need to find some vasoline and a bathroom. It was also very cold, in the 20's outside. I ate some warm food and gathered strength to continue on. Being about the same position as Brighton on Wasatch, it was difficult to leave the comfort and get back on the trail. I was so cold at first, that I could not hold the flashlight still. Within 15 minutes, however, I was warmed back up.

I had caught up with a couple other runners and we walked up the dirt road for several miles as the sky lightened up and dawn arrived. They left me on the downhill as I could not run as much now (my left achilles was beginning to be a real problem), and I entered Gibson Basin in the sunlight. I decided it was time to ditch my long sleeved shirt, but soon was cold again as the trail dropped back into the shade. It was still really cold in the morning hours. I was mostly walking now, running only for brief times, mindful of an increasing sore left achilles tendon. I soon found myself at the final aid station wondering if I should drop.

My left achilles was now swollen, and I could feel other secondary pains coming on. With under 8 miles to the finish, I debated the value of finishing only to worsen my injury. To that point, I had completed 8 ultras this year, including two one hundred milers. Yet my will to finish was strong. So, despite better judgement, I continued on, wondering if my tendon would snap off and I would be stuck on the trail, unable to walk at all for hours. With a monsterous climb out of Ranger Dip, the long descent to Bear Lake began. After a little while, the lake became visible and the elevation difference was apparent. I had a long ways to drop ahead. And soon the trail would become very steep. After trying unsuccessfully to walk down, I realized I would run out of water in the heat if I didn't run down. It was really hot, and losing elevation meant increasing temperatures as well. I also thought of snakes being a really danger as I plunged downhill almost out of control.

Little by little, mile by mile, I finally came to the dreaded asphalt. A long stretch ahead, and then along the road. After what seemed hours (but was less than one hour), I turned the final corner to the cheers of those at the finish. I ran under the banner and then sought for a chair. As soon as I sat down, I could feel something bad happen to my left achilles, like it was filling with fluid and swelling. I would now only be able to hobble around in great pain.

Despite slowing down and walking much of the last half of the race, I would still set a new hundred mile PR of 32:45:46! This means that for all three 100 mile races this year, I improved my time with each race.

Aftermath: I did have achilles tendonitis, which required a few weeks of phyiscal therapy and no running. Slowly, I began to run again and after two months, I am back to 13 miles on the trail. It still is stiff and I have to be careful, but recovery is coming along.

Looking forward: I am going to try to complete the same 9 races next year, and add the Hardrock 100 mile race in Colorado. The difficulty is that several of the races are lottery based, so my chances of getting into all of them are slim. I have registered for the first three races successfully and will be applying to the next two on December 1.