Mt Hood - PCT 50

Pacific Coast Trail – Mt Hood 50 Mile Ultra



I recently traveled to Mt Hood Oregon to run the PCT Mt Hood Ultra on 26 July, 2008. Since I’d ran this race in 2005, this was my second trip to this race. The race starts at the Historical Clackamass Ranger Station, about 25 miles south of Mt Hood and runs north on the Pacific Coast Trail to Timberline Ski Resort, where the runners turn around and return to the start/finish line.




Originally, when I planned this race, Patricia and I were going to go to the Oregon coast for a week or so and catch the race on the way back. For several reasons, our plans were changed and I ended up going by myself. I left Plain City at noon Thursday and drove to the top of Deadman’s Pass, looking down on Pendelton, Oregon and spent the night. I rose early on Friday and after a great breakfast at the Mill’s Inn in Pendelton, I drove the last 250 miles to Mt. Hood. Soon after leaving Pendelton, you enter the Columbia River Gorge. The scenery is spectacular. When I make this drive, I always stop at several overlooks between The Dalles and Hood River to watch the windsurfers. Those dudes are nuts, but highly entertaining.

I arrived at Clackamass Campground by 2pm and had plenty of time to lie around, rehydrate and get ready for the next day’s race. Oregon is a special place in the summer. 24 hours earlier I’d left home and the temperature was
96 degrees. The temperature at the campground was a perfect 68.. Later that evening I’d be looking for a sweat shirt, but as always, I’d left mine at home. Race package pickup was at 7 PM so I cooked dinner (red beans and rice) and visited with several other folks getting ready for the run. Across the road from were an older couple, Jim and Marcy, from Mckee, Idaho. They were going to run the Timberline aid station. I had a very enjoyable discussion with these folks concerning their experiences running and supporting ultra runs.


As you can see from the race profile, this is not a terribly tough race. You get about 3100 elevation gain on the way out and pick up 1200 or so on the way back. Generally up-hill the first half and down on the return trip. I had mixed feelings about my goals for this race. I hadn’t raced for a while and this course is pretty fast. On the other hand, I was running Katicina Mosa 100K the next weekend and the Cascade Crest 100 one month later. After sleeping on it, I decided my goal was to do a nice easy 12 hour run versus the 10 hour 30 minute run “dumb Larry” wanted.

The next morning, the race directors (Monica and Olga – great ladies) offered an early start at 5:30 AM. Since 5:30 is 6:30 in Utah and I was up, I wondered down to the start line and took off with 30 other runners towards Mt. Hood. The first section of the race runs out to Little Crater Lake, 6.1 mles away for the first aid station. Shortly after leaving the start line, you run along the shoreline of Timothy Lake. Timothy Lake is a fairly big lake and the trail is going through old growth timber. This section of the trail is wonderful. Because of the pine trees, you’re running on a mat of pine needles. Nice and soft. Good thing, I think I fell three times before the first aid station.



Little Crater Lake

After a quick refill and a piece of watermelon, it was on to the next aid station, only 3.2 miles away. This section was the first of several climbs on the way to Timberline. While not steep, it did get your attention and focused you on the task at hand. Since it had only been 40 minutes, I just stopped and filled my water bottle with Heed and heeded back up the trail to the next aid station where the trail crossed US 26, about 5.2 miles away.



First View

The 5.2 miles were evenly split between a good climb and a good downhill on the other side. It was along this piece of trail, we got the first good look at Mt Hood in the morning sunshine. Great trail, wonderful volunteers and views to die for. Can it get much better than this?



Barlow Pass Trail

The aid station at Hway 26 was manned by the “Thongless Runner’s Society”. I’m not sure if this is an actual group or just a name selected by the aid station participants, but these folks were HIGH ENERGY. Music playing, food flying and the trees were lined with their underwear. Again, I’m not sure where they came from, but they certainly knew how to get runners in and out with a freshly charged set of batteries. You needed those batteries. The trail from this point to the turnaround at Timberline was mostly uphill. The trail went up over Barlow Pass to another aid station where the PCT crossed US 35, 4.6 miles away. Barlow Pass was the only real technical piece of trail on the entire course. Since it ran between two major hiways, it had been well used by horse traffic. Besides dealing with a pretty decent climb, the trail had long sections of bowling ball size rocks.



The Sandbox Section

Immediately after leaving the Barlow Pass aid station, you started up the side of Mt. Hood and the turn-around at Timberline 5.9 miles away. Most of this section is a climb with the last mile above timberline and a two mile sludge through the “Sandbox”. The sandbox was the last couple of miles to the turnaround. There was very little vegetation and consisted of equal parts of volcanic ash and sand. Tough footing and not much fun going up, but an absolute ball coming back down. Many places you struggled with the loose sand going up, but bounded back down and through the sand on the return trip. The first year I ran this race, I stopped and emptied the sand from my shoes at Timberline. This year, I just waited until I returned to Barlow Pass and dumped it out after a round trip. Saved a little time and still avoided blister issues.



Turn around

The turn-around aid station was just outside the main lodge at Timberline. Those folks who’ve ran the Hood to Coast relay, probably recognize this picture. This ski resort is the starting point for that relay race. It’s also a working ski resort 12 months of the year. During the summer, they provide lift served skiing on the glaciers above. It was an almost surreal mixture of young folks with snowboards, ultra runners and Japanese tourists thrown together on a warm Saturday afternoon in July.


The return trip back to Clackamass Lake was pretty uneventful. My plan was to run 12 hours. I left Timberline at 5 hours and 50 minutes and finished at 12 hours and 1 minute. The run back to Barlow Pass was a fast downhill. It seemed like I struggled going back over Barlow and dropping back into Hiway 26. The thongless runners helped pick me up, but the next section was a drudge. Seemed like I couldn’t maintain a decent pace between the 30 and 40 mile points. I”d guess I was 10 minutes behind a projected 12 hour finish at this point, but was able to gather my senses and make up the difference, mostly in the last six miles after leaving Little Crater.

AFTERTHOUGHTS

This still remains one of my favorite destination races. It combines a small field, great race directors, wonderful volunteers and unsurpassed scenery. I still need to make it back for another shot at a possible 50 mile PR. I also proved beyond a doubt that opiates and trail running aren’t a good mixture. The day before I left Ogden, I’d had a root canal. For some reason, the dentist couldn’t completely deaden the tooth so must of it was done with out the full benefit of Novocain. Geez, it was fun. Anyway, the dentist had given me a prescription for Loritab. When I got up Saturday, the tooth was throbbing and I really debated if I should take one of the pain killers. Obviously, I made the wrong choice and swallowed one with my morning can of soup. I didn’t notice much until the race started. I lost track at six the number of times I fell. I just couldn’t properly judge distances to rocks and proper foot work to avoid them. So if you’re ever tempted to take pain killers before running trails, leave the pill bottle at home.

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Kettle Morain - Let it Rain

This past weekend (June 7th and 8th), I traveled to southern Wisconsin to run the Kettle Moraine 100 Mile Endurance Run. What a wonderful adventure this turned out to be. K-M is run along the Ice Age Trail through southwestern Wisconsin. It consists of two out-and-back stretches. First you go 31 miles north east and turn around and come back to the Start/Finish line and then you go south east for 19 miles and turn around and return. In addition to the 100 mile race, they also simultaneously conduct a 100K. While not a terribly tough course, it does have over 10,000 feet of elevation gain and loss and is ran almost exclusively (except for road crossings) on either single or double track trail. This course covers three types of terrain. About 1/3th of the course consists of fairly short, up and down hills. These hills are affectionately known as “Pointless Ups and Downs (PUDs)”. PUDS were typically found throughout hardwood forests. ½ of the course traverses wide open meadows with little shade. While the terrain was mostly flat across these sections, heat and humidity could easily become an issue. Finally, the rest of the course wondered through fairly thick pine forests. The forests stretches were incredibly soft from the pine duff that had accumulated under the trees.


Th e race started at 6 AM Saturday under cloudy and threatening skies. At the race briefing prior to the start, the RD warned of possible storms, some of which could be severe. Because of the lack of split times, I didn’t have a detailed spilt chart. My plan was to average 15 miles an hour for the first 50 miles and hopefully finish it around 12 hours. The second half of the course I planned on 18 minute miles to 70 miles and 20 minute miles the last 30 miles or so. This worked out to 28 hours with a 30 hour maximum to finish. The first 31 miles to the turn-around were pretty uneventful. I projected being at the turn-around at 1:51 and made it there at 1:14, 37 minutes ahead of schedule. All of the race reports indicated how tiresome PUDs would become, but I found them very enjoyable. I soon fell in to a rhythm of hiking the ups and running the downs and most of the in-betweens. Time went by very quickly. By mid-day, it had become pretty warm (87 degrees at one aid station) and very humid (I’d guess 70%). My hydration strategy was to drink at least a 20 oz bottle every hour, more if necessary. It must have worked since I continued to pee almost hourly and mostly passed the 3C test (clean, clear and copious). Shortly after the turn-around, it began to sprinkle lightly and I could see and hear lightning in the distance.

Somewhere between the 39 mile and 44 mile aid station (this race was great, most aid stations were between 4 and 5 miles apart, just right for finishing one water bottle) the clouds rolled in and the rain started with a vengeance. Personally, I’ve never experienced rain like we had for the next 18 hours. It rained almost constantly and at times it felt like the garden hose was being held above your head. At about 4 PM, coming off a ridge and approaching one of the prairie sections, a loud whistle began to blow from a neighboring farm (I later learned it was a tornado warning). Within 5 minutes we were in an absolute deluge with lightning bouncing of the hills around us. At one point, I decided it was futile to try to go farther, especially out into the open prairie so I sat down on the side of the trail to wait it out. Within minutes, the water pressure from the stream running down the hill and hitting my backside started to scout me down the trail. Sucks to have a big backside. Needless to say, sitting wasn’t an option so I alternated sitting and rolling on to my knees and letting the flood flow by. After 10 minutes, or so, the rain let up and I continued into the meadow in front of me.

The trail in the meadow wasn’t much of an improvement. The rain water had run down the hillsides and flooded the meadow and the trail followed the lowest ground. For the next couple of miles we waded through knee deep water until we reached the hill on the other side. As bad as it seemed at the time, it didn’t slow me down as much as I anticipated. My plan was to be at the 47 mile aid station at 5:47 and I made it by 5:33. I’d lost 24 minutes of my 37 minute lead at 31 miles, but I was still 14 minutes ahead of schedule. The 47 mile aid station was one of the places you passed through twice and could have a drop bag. I grabbed mine and knocked back an Ensure and opened a can of Campbell’s Double Noodle, Chicken Noodle Soup and made fast work of it. Through out this race, my refueling strategy consisted of a can of soup and a bottle of Ensure at five different locations with drop bags. In a couple of minutes, I devoured 650 calories. At aid stations without drop bags, I supplemented this with whatever ultra food looked good, mostly alternating between sweet and salty stuff. This race had excellent turkey and ham sandwiches, both with plenty of real Mayo. Typically, I walked out of the aid station eating one or both of these items. Speaking of aid stations, K-M’s were top notch. I was amazed at the number of very knowledgeable volunteers that jumped up and took care of all your needs. In some cases, they were so helpful; they almost slowed you down trying to get back on the trail.

The next five miles, I hit my first low point. In hind sight, I think I focused so hard on getting to 50 miles in 12 hours, I suffered from a mental lapse. Regardless, time really dragged and I seemed to have little energy. Surprisingly, the weather was fairly good at this time and the trail was sandy so water and mud weren’t the issue. Any time you run an ultra, you’re bound to hit a patch or two. This was obviously one of mine. The secret is to continue on until you feel a little better, it’s bound to happen. The Bluff Road aid station at mile 55 shook me out of my doldrums. Bluff Road was my favorite stop of the race and we went through it three different times. The last ½ mile in both directions was lined with pink flamingos and the volunteers all wore flowered Hawaiian shirts. If a little Jimmy Buffet won’t light your fuse after 55 miles, your powder has got way to wet. I left Bluff Road at 8:12 PM and got to Nordic, the Start/Finish line at 10:19 PM, about 10 minutes behind my projected schedule, but I’d picked up almost 10 minutes on the run between Bluff and Nordic.

Nordic was the Start/Finish line and the point you transitioned directions on the trail. It also marked the end of the 100K. This race allows 100 mile participants to drop out at 62 miles and still be counted as a 100k finisher. Because of the weather, many runners stopped and called it a night. Personally, not going out was never a factor. Joe and I had a discussion a while back and both agreed that to be successful at ultras, you need to eliminate negative thoughts. No longer is quitting early an option. If I don’t make a cut-off and they take you off the course, at least you gave it your all. 100 milers aren’t physically challenging, it’s all mental. Your mind will play terrible games if you allow it. Headed back out of Nordic, you first pass through Bluff Road before you go in the other direction. The run back to Bluff was even better than the run in had been. I left the aid station with a lady named Nancy and her brother Robert. Nancy was running her first 100 miler and Bob was her pacer. We spent a very enjoyable, but also wet 2 hours going back to Bluff. Unfortunately, the rain had started back up and lightning could be seen in the distance.

I left Bluff at 1:09 and headed south. This portion of the race went 11 miles then turned around and returned. The nature of the trail also seemed to change. It was much narrower and not as well maintained. Going up it was mostly uphill and when you turned around it was mostly down. I don’t remember any PUDs and very few meadows along this trail. However, most of the pine forests were along this stretch. It was seven miles to a manned aid station with one unmanned, “water only” station about mid-way. The hike (by this time I wasn’t doing much running) to the unmanned aid station seemed really slow. The weather had worsened and consisted of a constant steady rain. It was also getting late at night and I hit another bit of a patch. I’d also left Nancy at Bluff (learned later she’d dropped) so I was mostly on the trail alone. Oh yeah, it was also really dark and my flashlight quit working. Luckily I had spare batteries and was able to fix it in the dark. I made it into the manned aid station at about 3:15, now 45 minutes behind my schedule, but still 1:45 ahead of the cut-off. Not great but ok.

Unfortunately, 10 minutes prior to reaching the aid station, the rain started again with a vengeance. Like an idiot, when I entered the aid station (a huge army tent) I decided to wait out the storm. 30 minutes later my backside was still firmly planted in a lawn chair and the rain still beat down on the tent. I slapped myself and got up to leave. However, the 30 minute respite meant I was 1:15 behind my schedule and only 1:15 ahead of the cut-off. As I left the aid station I talked to guy making the return trip. He claimed the trail was brutal. It might have been an understatement.

I don’t remember very much about the last 4.4 miles to the turnaround point other than it rained harder than I’d ever seen rain fall and the wind blew. At one point, my flashlight couldn’t penetrate the downpour and I thought I’d lost the trail. I wrapped my arms around a tree and waited it out. I’m not sure how long I waited, but I said a quick Rosary so I’d guess 20 minutes before it let up enough to continue. It was a bit spooky listening to the trees being blown down all around me. Once the rain let up a bit, the trail consisted of ankle deep mud with a slimy, slick under base. At one point I fell and then fell twice trying to stand up. Needless to say progress was slow and painful. Boy, it was fun. The newly fell trees across the trail also presented challenges. I left the aid station at 3:45 AM and reached the turnaround aid station at 7:12, way behind my schedule but still 18 minutes up on the cut-off. On the positive side, the sun was up and the rain had almost stopped. When I entered the aid station, there was another runner who’d decided to drop. She looked at me and asked me if I was returning. I told her I was and asked if she wanted to go with me. She looked at me kinda funny and said, “you know, I think I do.” We filled our supplies and headed back down the trail. The cut-off for the next aid station was 8:30 so we had 1:15 minutes to do the same distance I’d just spent 3:30 hours accomplishing. The odds didn’t look good, but at least we were trying.

Once headed down the trail, the rain turned into a light mist. Going mostly downhill made the trail much more manageable plus I now had the added advantage of someone else to laugh at when they slipped and went down. Unfortunately, there seemed to be many more trees across the trail, all of which had to be crawled over or under. At one point, we came upon a downed tree that all you had to do was duck your head. Just as I came up to and tried to duck, my lower back tightened up. Obviously, didn’t duck enough and ended up sliding under that one. It was a bit painful, but faster than most. Too bad I didn’t get it on tape, it could have been a winner on Funniest Home Video. Our cut-off at the next aid station was 8:30 and at some point we realized we wouldn’t make it, but we continued on hoping the RD had changed the cut-off because of the weather. We arrived at the aid station at 9:03 and were a bit disappointed to hear that the cut-offs stood. Looks like our race had come to an end, 15 miles short of the desired result.

What Worked and What Didn’t
Both my hydration and refueling strategy were dead on for this race. My stomach stayed good and I continued to pee throughout the night. For a while, I’ve been using A&D Ointment during long runs. This race proved its value. Although I was wet for approximately 18 hours, chaffing and rubbing was never an issue. If it’s good enough for a baby’s butt, it’s certainly good enough for me. For the past two months I’ve been spending two nights a week in a cross training program conducted by Weber State’s Sports Medicine Clinic. This effort certainly paid big dividends at K-M. Other than some blisters, I feel amazingly good three days later. Physically, I was very prepared for this event. Mentally, I struggled. Ultra Runners have a saying, “beware the chair.” No progress is being made sitting in aid stations. While the race conditions were certainly less than ideal, I’d guess I wasted over an hour sitting in aid stations waiting for it to improve. In other words, I blew the race sitting in a tent feeling sorry for myself. My new mantra for aid stations will be “BEWARE THE CHAIR, BEWARE THE CHAIR”. I also had lighting issues at this race. My guess is it was caused by the wet conditions, but I burned through three sets of batteries in one night. I carried one spare set with me and bummed a set at an aid station so it wasn’t critical. Perhaps, my flashlight wasn’t working correctly and I need to care a spare light.

While I can’t blame the weather for not finishing, it certainly was a factor. On the Madison news Sunday evening, they reported that Whitewater, the closest town to the race, had 9.5 inches of participation in the past 24 hours. One of the aid station volunteers told me that they’d left a bucket out all night. When they broke down the next day, they measured 11 inches of water in the bucket. The total number of finishers was way down this year. There were 123 runners and 7 relay teams entered in the 100 miler. Of these, only 37 finished for a success rate of 28.46%. Historically, this race has a 70% success rate. The conditions most likely were an issue.


A Tribute to Lisa

While waiting for the race to start, I noticed a very nice hand built bench that had been placed into an alcove overlooking the start/finish line. The bench had a brass plaque on it that said the following:

LISA J. CONOVER
June 11, 1958 – May 22, 2007
Lisa’s smile and spirit will live on in all who run the trails.


I didn’t think much about it at the time, but as the race progressed, I found myself thinking about Lisa Conover, whom I’d never met. What a special person she must have been for her friends and loved ones to build such a wonderful memorial in a place she obviously loved. Upon my return home I googled “Lisa Conover” and found the following copy of her obituary:

Lisa Conover

Tuesday evening, May 22, 2007 Lisa J. Conover died unexpectedly at
her home in Neenah, Wisconsin. She was born in Denver, Colorado on
June 11, 1958 and grew up in North Dakota. She earned her bachelor’s
degree from The University of Montana. She is survived by her
husband, Gary G. Conover, her two sons, Eric and Chad Kempen, her
mother and father Cleo and C. James Cieminski, two sisters and one
brother, Judy Cowan, Patti Lunak, and Cort Cieminski and two step
sons, Zachariah and Joshua Conover.

Lisa was passionate about her running and the deserts and the
mountains of the Southwest. She also liked people. Since 1996 she had
completed 103 ultra marathons which included thirteen 100 mile runs
and she successfully completed the Grand Slam of Ultra Running. Her
favorite 100 mile race was the Angeles Crest 100 in the mountains
outside of Los Angeles. She taught herself to swim so she could do
the Ironman Triathlon in Madison, Wisconsin in 2002.

She married Gary Conover on March 26, 1991 in Harris County Texas and
he introduced her to the deserts in Southern California where he grew
up. Lisa loved running in the deserts, even when it was well past 115
degrees, and particularly liked hiking and running in Joshua Tree
National Park. When she only wanted a short 10 or 15 mile run she
would run up Mt. Eisenhower in the Living Desert which is in Palm
Desert. She was planning to move to Palm Desert, California, so she
would be able to train every day in the desert she loved. She was
also pursuing the idea of starting a running company in Palm Desert.
Her husband crewed for her at all her races and was always
encouraging her and protective of her. Many times he would tell her
to “pick up the pace” just to make her smile. During her races their
mantra was to have fun, do the best you can in this race today, and
not get hurt.

She will be remembered by her family and friends and fellow runners
for her smile, her positive attitude, and her pony tail swinging as
she ran. And her husband will always remember her tender eyes, her
beautiful smile, and their love and friendship.

A memorial service to celebrate Lisa’s life will be held at the
Wichmann Funeral Home at 537 North Superior Street in Appleton on
Tuesday, May 29, 2007 at 11:00 a.m. In lieu of flowers her husband
requests that donations be made in her name to the Living Desert at:

The Living Desert
Attn: Shirley
47-900 Portola Avenue
Palm Desert, California 92260-9817

Like I said, I’d never met her, but several times when the weather was at its worst, I had an overwhelming feeling that everything would be ok. At least by this participant, her presence was felt, noted and most appreciated. Be at peace my friend, be at peace.

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Antelope Island

Next Saturday is the 50 mile Buffalo Run on Antelope Island. We went out this morning for a 15 mile warmup. Of course, it was foggy, windy and the sun never came out so it really wasn't very warm. Carl Tippets, Kent Griffith, Stephanie Hoover and her sister Chelsea Spence met me at the gate at 6:30. We drove across the causeway and were running by 7. Started out in the dark, but by the time we got to lonetree (2 1/2 miles), the sun was starting to come up and it was warming up. Here are a couple of pictures I took while we were out there. The first picture is Stephanie and Chelsea as they started up out of the bottom of Split Rock Bay and the second is a a picture of the shoreline and lake looking north from the ridge above Split Rock Bay. The island really is a neat place, especially for runners this time of year. Beside antelope and buffalo, you'll also see deer, bighorn sheep, coyotes and other animals. It's also a world famous birdwatching location. Surprisingly, 80% of the people who live in sight of the island have never stepped foot on it. Their loss.

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Thermal Man

Here's an interesting video of a guy with the ability to manage his internal body temperature. Not sure how important a gift it is, but it's always interesting to see anyone who's developed into an exception to the norm. Perhaps, it just emphasis what I tell new ultrarunners. Ultras are all about mental, not physical.

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Free Fire by CJ Box

I spotted this box while at the library for a tutoring session and I hadn’t read a mystery in a while. This book was written by a Wyoming author and the book is based in Yellowstone. Figured it was worth looking at, so I checked it out and gave it a read.

The book is about Joe Pickett, a disgraced Wyoming game warden, who is approached by the Governor of Wyoming to do an unofficial investigation of a recent high profile murder that occurred in Yellowstone Park. The confessed murderer was allowed to walk free based upon a technicality. A West Yellowstone lawyer killed four people in the small piece of the park that lies in Idaho and turned himself in at the closest park ranger station. Turned out several quirks in the constitution and case law dictate that an accused has the right to a trial by a jury from the jurisdiction where the crime occurred. The small corner of the park has no permanent residents, so a jury could not be gathered from this jurisdiction. No jury, no trial and perpetrator goes free.

The book went into Joe’s investigation and what he learned. The book was pretty good because it introduced his personal history with the park and also went in to the geology of this area, microbiology and some of the uses for the microbes that only grow in the park’s hot pots and hot springs. The story was a bit predictable, but had a few twists that helped hold your attention. The author also left several loose ends that weren’t fully explained.

Generally, if you enjoy a mystery, especially one based in the outdoors and are willing to overlook a couple of slight oversights, this is a pretty enjoyable book. In fact, the author is on my list to look at his other books.

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Road Trip

I wrote this short poem after a recent trip to Moab, Ut for the Red Hot 50K+

Road Trip

Tomorrow’s run is in Moab,
couple hundred miles away.
Red Rocks, sandstone and vistas;
it’s called the Red Hot 50K.

We sneak out of work early,
to reach Moab before it gets late.
The car is gassed and loaded, so
we’ll head south towards our fate.

Joe’s poised behind the wheel,
the rest of us are spread about.
Carl’s providing directions,
the next exit will be our route.

Over the mountain we’ll travel,
along the river on both sides.
After a quick gas stop in Price,
on to Green River we’ll ride

We take a short run up the freeway,
towards Vail’s big mountain snow.
Hard right at Crescent Junction,
south were the big red rocks grow.

We make it to town before dark
and find our motel for the night
Nothing fancy or pretty; just
a place to rest before day light.



And here is the rest of it.

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Red Hot 50K+ Race Report

A bunch of us went to Moab this past weekend to run the Red Hot 50K+/33K. George, Carl, Joe, Stephanie, Shay and I all ran (ok Shay walked it, but if the truth is known we all walked a bunch) the 50K and Susie and Chelsea ran the 33K. Because of all the snow and bad weather northern Utah’s had this past winter, this race was overdo. When I left Friday afternoon I hoped that a weekend of sunshine, red rocks and scenery might be the antidote I needed to break a bad case of the “shack nasties”.

The race started at 8 AM at the Gemini Bridges parking lot; about 10 miles north of town. We arrived at7 AM to make sure our drop bags were in place when the aid station volunteers left for their posts. Because of the remote nature of the aid stations, they were manned by one of the local Moab 4X4 clubs. It’s amazing the places those “rock hoppers” can go. After a short race briefing, we were off, headed up the Gemini Bridges road. The first four miles or so were a long climb up a dirt road. The field quickly spread out and we settled into our customary place, probably 2/3 of the way back.

At about 4 miles, we changed roads and headed towards the “Metal Masher’s Trailhead.” You’ve got a love the names associated with the 4 wheel and bike trails in this area. Before the day was over, we’d also see the Gold Bar Trail and the Rusty Nail Trail with a short period on the Poison Spider bike trail. The first aid station came at about 5.5 miles. It had started to warm-up so most folks shed clothes and left them in their drop bag. The next 12 miles were a loop over the Metal Masher trail. At about 17 miles, you ended up back at the same aid station, only now it was aid station 3 instead of 1. The highlight of the loop (other than the header I took at eight miles) came at about 10 miles. At this point, you were standing on the top of the butte looking directly down at the parking lot we’d left a couple of hours earlier and probably 2,000 feet below you. The view of the La Sal Mountains to the east was absolutely stunning.

Back at aid station 1 & 3, after the Metal Masher loop, Carl and I followed Kris Lander’s advice and quickly changed into our road shoes. Great advice Kris. With a fresh pair of shoes we headed back down the road about a mile and followed the 33K course to the finish at the Colorado River. When we hit the 33K trail, we almost immediately started climbing the Gold Bar Trail. The next five miles were gruesome. It was mostly a tough climb on slick rock. Who ever named slick rock had a warped sense of humor. While it’s rock, there just weren’t many places you could call slick. Trail markings also were an issue. If you didn’t pay close attention, quickly you’d lose sight of the pretty pink ribbons we were attempting to follow. Losing sight of the pink ribbons wasn’t a good thing. All you could do was backtrack until you found one.

While the climb to aid station four was tough, the view from the top was spectacular. If you looked down over the edge of the butte, you saw Moab. The La Sal’s were to the east, Arches was a little north east (I counted six arches while gulping coca cola) and to the south west you could see into Canyonlands and the winding Colorado river. Absolutely wonderful. When we left aide station 4, we went from the Gold Bar Trail to the Rusty Nail Trail. The next 7 miles to aid station 5 (29 miles) were up and down and mostly on slick rock. This section of the race just seemed like a grind. It wasn’t as tough as the climb up the Gold Bar Trail, but by this point in the race, fatigue had become an issue and you had to pay close attention to the terrain. A header on slick rock wouldn’t be pretty.

Aid station five, the final aid station, came at about 29 miles. Carl and I hit it at about 6 hours and 50 minutes so we thought we had a chance to break eight hours. It was a small chance. When we left the aid station and started down the mountain (most of the last 5 + miles were downhill), we blew right past a pretty pink ribbon on our right and went ½ a mile, or so, before we realized it. By the time we’d back tracked almost to the aid station, we’d wasted almost 15 minutes so it would take a big effort to finish under eight hours. It wasn’t to be. This last section was down hill, mostly on slick rock for the first couple of miles, then dirt road to the finish line. Carl was in good enough shape, he could have busted eight hours, but my quads cramped a couple of times and I had to walk them out.

Carl was gracious enough to stay with me until I could run again. We ended up crossing the finish line in eight hours and ten minutes.

AFTERTHOUGHTS: I’d highly recommend this race to everyone. If you aren’t up to the 50K, do the 33K. This may be the most visually stunning race I’ve ever ran. At one point, I was tempted to stick my finger down my throat just so I could say, “this is the prettiest mountain I ever pucked on.” Seriously, run this race and you’ll come back again. After being cooped up all winter, it was fantastic to be running on dirt and rock again. It’s certainly not an easy race, but like we talked about on the ride home, sometimes a good butt kicking is a good thing.

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