It rained 5” last week, oh boy…not what I wanted to hear the
day before I was supposed to run a big loop around Badlands National Park, a
place everyone told me not to go when it rained. As I drove through the park
along the Rim road the early May sunlight began to illuminate the buttes, so I
stopped at the first view point to take in the views of Sage Creek far below. I
was greeted by a couple of grazing bighorn sheep, and a herd of bison. My first
trip to Badlands was off to a pretty good start.
Sunrise over the Sage Creek area of Badlands National Park.
Badlands National Park has very few official trails, so to create a long distance route I pulled from a 22mile off trail backpacking loop with some planned detours and exploration, because that’s what Badlands is really about, a chance to explore, unencumbered. I rolled into the Conata Picnic area just after sunrise on 5/25/19, geared up and strolled off into the meadows. It was immediately apparent I was in for a bit of adversity as the packed dirt meadow turned damp and then into full on swamp. Well, dry feet weren’t going to be an option today. I slopped my way across the valley for 1.5mi, then turned sharply right (North) for the Deer Haven saddle.
Headed up towards Deer Haven, just to the right up the valley.
Looking down the upper reaches of the Sage Creek wash.
As I climbed away from the low grasslands up onto the butte,
I passed through dense stands of juniper, eventually weaving my way up the
steep hillside, around the cliff bands, and onto the summit of the Deer Haven
plateau. Now for the long winding downhill along the North Fork of Sage Creek.
The route started out pretty pleasant, running through the tall grass, occasionally
hopping the creek, but the footing was pretty good. After a short side trip up
one of the canyons draining The Pinnacles, I continued my descent, things
slowly got muddier and muddier and the creek got deeper and deeper. By the time
I hit the confluence of the North and Middle forks of Sage Creek the muddy misery
had escalated.
Running the plateaus along the North Fork of Sage Creek.
It was like running in peanut butter, yuck.
I cut over the high plateau above the creeks hoping that the
mud would dissipate, but no luck. As I rounded the bluff I dropped onto the
high plateau above the Middle Fork of Sage Creek, a small herd of bison dotted
the plains. Their muddy hoof prints had torn up the grasslands, and it was a
total mud pit. Despite the slipping and sliding, the terrain was fairly easy
and it was really nice to be jogging through the open grasslands and jagged mud
buttes with no one else around. I slow jogged and fast hiked my way up the
Middle Fork, headed towards Sage Creek Pass. As I made my way into the upper
basin the herd of bison had grown into the hundreds, dotting the plains as far
as the eye could see.
Just before reaching Sage Creek Pass I took a detour
slightly NE into some really interesting buttes, hoping to climb one. I
scrambled up the hard mud slope, onto the crumbling ridgeline. As I neared the
summit the slope pitched up to near vertical and the mud stone showed no signs
of solidifying, well that wasn’t going to happen. From my vantage on the
ridgeline I could see down into several of the nearby canyons, watched the
bison trotting around the grasslands and very much enjoyed my isolation deep in
the backcountry of Badlands. I spent anther half hour scrambling around the
canyons of the butte, finding coyote tracks, bighorn droppings and lots of bison
paths. Each canyon was a new adventure, would it be passable, where did it go?
I finally popped out back on the South side of the butte not far from Sage
Creek Pass.
Finding some semi-packed mud to run on!
Bison dotting the Badlands.
Trying to climb some of the mudstone ridges and buttes, not so solid.
The route down from the pass was an enjoyable jog down the
water course right alongside one of the mud stone buttes, alternating between
lovely packed dirt and greasy wet mud. At last I hit the park boundary fence,
hung a left and headed back towards the car across the flat plains that abutted
the mud stone buttes of Badlands. The grasslands seemed to stretch as far as
the eye could see, and as I soon discovered, were completely flooded with an
inch of muddy water. I tried to jog sections, but soon gave in and was relegated
to hiking. After what seemed like an endless slog I got back on the trail near
Deer Haven and jogged back to the car. Tired, covered in mud, and excited to be
back on hard pavement.
Playing in the canyons and plains.
The wide open plains surrounding the Badlands mud buttes and canyons. Endless grasslands (filled with mud this day).
My first trip to the Badlands had been an overall success. Despite the crazy mud and insanely wet conditions, I got to wander through the backcountry all my by lonesome, explore the maze of mudstone buttes and towers, watch the massive herds of bison take over the planes and just be out in an undeveloped part of one of America’s more obscure National Parks. Badlands may not look as dramatic as some of the mountainous national parks, but once you’re lost wandering the backcountry you get to better understand what the park is all about. I look forward to returning to Badlands again, when it’s less muddy and I get more time to just explore all the random canyons (but beware of the rattlesnakes!).
“Welcome to Gressoney, in case you haven’t heard your race is canceled…” -Aid worker “Excuse me, what?” -Me
Shock, disbelief, confusion…. even four days later I’m still trying to process everything that happened at the 2019 Ultra Trail Monte Rosa. But let’s start from the beginning…. May 2019, after losing out on both the Hard Rock and Tor des Geants lotteries I committed to the 2019 Ultra Trail Monte Rosa. A little known 170km run around the Monte Rosa massif in Switzerland. It’s basically UTMB on steroids…170km, 37,000ft of elevation gain, 30h course record, 60h cutoff…
2019 brought unprecedented snow to Colorado, so my first trail race (San Juan Solstice) was canceled, then my replacement run (John Cappis) was shortened. Less than a month out from the race I recieved the unfortunate news that my company was laying off a large number of people, me included… well %*&@. Training hadn’t gone quite as expected, but I guess I’d have a lot of time to train and recover just before the race. After a lot of miles and all kinds of vertical (79,000ft of gain in August alone), I was feeling apprehensively ready to take on the race, though admittedly I was scared.
On August 23rd my friend Ellen and I hopped a series of planes to adventure; Denver-Salt Lake City-Amsterdam-Zurich-Ljubljana. After 10 days of traveling and play time in the Julian Alps and Dolomites (in a later blog) we made our way to Grächen to checkin and prepare for the races. The weather forecast for the races had progressively gotten worse, calling for rain and snow during night 1 and into day 2. We were warned to be prepared for changes and bad weather, ok can do, we had a whole assortment of mandatory gear we were going to get to use.
2019 John Cappis course was too snowy to run the full 50km, so it was shortened to 30km/12500ft gain. And there was still a lot of snow.
A beatiful pre-race day in Grachen, but the storm’s a coming.
‘Tapering’ very poorly in the Dolomites, this place is amazing.
After the usual restless night of sleep the alarm went off at 3am Thursday 9/5 and last minute prep was made. We set off nervously from the start line into the foggy but pleasant and chilly morning. The pace started out fast as we cruised through the first 10km in an 1:15 to the start of the first climb, then up we went, 4300ft in just a few miles. I settled into a steady power hike, working my way up through the fast starters. The first light of day slowly began to percolate through the mist and fog as we neared the top of the climb and rolled into the Europahütte aid station (17.1km, 3:24)
The next stretch was a narrow rolling traverse over to Taschalp. Some really cool single track cut into a steep hillside that had some runners nervous to run, but I found it awesomely fun (see photo). I was continuing to move up through the field, and cruised right through Taschalp (26.4km, 4:51) and on towards Zermatt. This next stretch was a blur as we rolled up and down, finally hitting the cruiser descent into Zermatt.
Running in the fog before Taschalp.
Roped in on the trail to Zermatt.
Runners crossing a bridge along the trail to Zermatt.
I was feeling good rolling into Zermatt (36.8km, 6:06), but had realized how much I’d underestimated the course, and there was a long way to go. At the aid station I calmly went about my business, and rolled on through, all packed up (microspikes included) bound for the Theodule glacier and the high point of the course. As I rolled through town I ran into Clare and Allister, it’s always nice to see friendly faces in random places.
As I started the 1700m climb out of Zermatt I slowly drifted into the pain cave, dehydrated and fuel deficient. I spent the next hour trying to put myself back together and took a few extra minutes at Gangehütte (46.9km, 8:34) taking care of myself. Then I cruised up to the glacier, donned my microspikes and off we went across the ice. The fog dropped in, the temperature dropped and for the first time in 9h I got to use my jacket. We soon found ourselves at the high point of the course, Theodule pass, 3300m high (49.2km, 9:22)!
Looking back on Zermatt from the climb toward Gangehutte.
The rocky abyss near Gangehutte, slow going.
Exiting the glacier (1km long!) and back onto the rock of Theodule pass.
Down down down; note a theme, climb up, yog down? From the pass it was mostly dirt road through a quarry to Lago Cime Bianche (54.9km, 9:55). The fog had begun to lift and the skies were clearing up a little bit, for the first time all day we were actually getting some views! At the aid station I continued my self care, a little lentil soup and some cake, mmm. Then back uphill we went, again, just a short 300m up this time. Then began the long decent to Rifugio Ferraro. I continued to hop my way down the rocky terrain, that felt like a snail’s pace, but turned out to be about average for that section.
My quads were definitely starting to feel the burn, but I was still moving alright, so yogged on. The weather was looking a bit moody, but nothing beyond a few sprinkles. As myself and UK runner Philip Williams rolled into Rufugio Ferraro a steady rain began to fall so we popped on our rain jackets for the first time (67.5km, 12:00). We took a few moments fueling up before the long climb (800m) and even longer descent (1100m) into Gressoney. I had flipped my phone on for the first time, happy to find no texts from the race, onward we go!
Theodule Pass, looking down towards Lago Cime Bianche.
Gran Lago, on the way to Rifugio Ferraro.
High mountain meadows and cows….moooo
As we hiked out of the aid station up the jeep road, another runner and I noticed Philip ahead of us, but on a different flagged track? He checked his GPS and indeed we were on a parallel flagged route that was not the normal race course. So we cut back on course and continued upward towards the pass. The sun came out as we climbed, descended, then climbed steeply again on very rocky trail to the pass (73.9km, 13:27). The views looking down valley towards Gressoney, were spectacular as the clouds drifted around the mountain tops.
The descent was incredibly steep and rocky, but I managed a hop-jog down. Passing several small alpine lakes, through green meadows, around a large herd of sheep and down to the ski hill above Gressoney. As I cruised down the trail and onto the ski road I noticed a Japanese runner coming straight down the road above me, huh? He said he took ‘the other route’, nothing we could do now but keep running I guess? The final downhill into Gressoney was moderately technical and damp from the light rain that was falling again so I took it slowly.
Atop the pass, beginning the long descent into Gressoney.
Gressoney dead ahead! Weather looking good, ready to roll.
The trail dumped us onto the dirt road, <1km to the aid, SWEET! I began to take a mental tally of what I needed to do in Gressoney; eat a meal, hydrate, put on tights and overall just prepare myself for what appeared to be a long, cold, damp, dark night ahead. I rolled through town, hopped through the aid station door (79.8km, 14:27) with a smile on my face (I was feeling a bit spunkier), ready to keep rolling, that’s when it happened….
“Welcome to Gressoney, in case you haven’t heard your race is canceled…” -Aid worker “Excuse me, what?” -Me
I was stunned and completely dumbfounded. I’d only used my rain jacket for a total of 45min, I was sweating and the weather wasn’t bad at all, wtf was going on???? I spent the next half hour trying to understand what was going, then pleading for them to let us continue, then trying to convince them to let us continue in the morning with the other races (Friday’s 100km and stage race hadn’t been canceled…yet). As those of us in the aid station commiserated, we watched the face of each new arrival go from excitement to disbelief to sadness. We were all still having trouble processing the news.
After much deliberation those of us waiting in the aid station decided to throw in the towel and catch the 9pm bus back to the start line in Grächen as there was a good chance they weren’t going to let people run from Gressoney on Friday morning either. We were trying to lighten the mood as much as possible, but it was evident how depressed many of us were that our race was so suddenly cut short, but the adventure didn’t end there…
Gressoney is the furthest point on the course from Grächen, 5h by bus, and our 9p departure, turned into 10:15p. Oh, and there was only one bus (48 seats) for the 80 something runners, meaning half the crew would be spending the night in the aid station on the benches and dozen mattresses available. The first priority was based on arrival time, and thankfully I fell squarely within that group. I dozed intermittently on the bus, and we finally arrived back in Grächen at 3:10a, to light rain. I quickly showered and went straight to bed.
Fresh dusting of snow on the mountains Friday morning after our race had been cancelled.
I awoke the following morning to steady rain and a fresh coat of snow on the
mountains above. As I chatted with other runners more stories began to trickle
in; many were stopped at Gangehütte (47km) due to white out and snow. I then
got a message from Ellen that there race was delayed until noon, then that a
bus was coming to move runners to Macugnaga?, then the 100km was outright
canceled!!! WTF was going on??? It took Ellen, Dana and a few other 100km runners
until 4pm to get back to Grächen, all of them understandably frustrated and mad
they hadn’t run a single step!
The 2019 UTMR event (all races) was a bit of a mess, not because of bad
weather, but because of how it was handled (in my opinion). The weather was a
known factor coming into the race (cold, wet, possible snow), but it was
evident the race committee hadn’t laid out a definitive alternative plan in
case of bad weather. When I asked the aid workers if the 170km runners would be
allowed to continue if they started the 100km race the following day (a delay,
not outright cancellation) they were surprised, because apparently no one had
thought of that scenario??? Really???? When the 100km race was told the
mountain passes weren’t safe so they’d just have to go home and NOT RUN A
SINGLE STEP, how is it acceptable that no alternative was planned out ahead of
time?
European races make runner safety a big priority; mandatory gear list,
runner tracking, experience requirements (we all had to prove we’d run mountain
100k/100mi races before), but when it comes to actually putting runners in a
situation where they’d need this gear….then it’s not safe? Anyone who’s spent
time hiking/climbing/running in the mountains has been rained on, snowed on,
had to escape storms….but this year at UTMR we were told that we couldn’t
handle what POSSIBLY might happen. When they stopped the 170km race it was warm
(60F/15C), partly cloudy, with a few showers around….but there was a forecast
storm that night, so we had to be protected from the potential weather that
might come?
I’m not saying that we should have been sent over the high passes with the impending forecast (yes it did snow), but with known bad weather coming in, how was there NO contingency plan created? How was the only option to pull the plug, throw in the towel and tell runners, sorry you trained so hard, spent all this time and money on this race, but bye??? That’s mostly what left a bad taste in my mouth, the lack of commitment to making the event the best it could be, even despite the poor weather. This is what frustrates me the most and many other runners as well (I know because I’ve spoken with dozens of them, even if they haven’t shared their stories/opinions yet). While UTMR seems like it might be a wonderful event, the handing of this year’s weather situation and cancellation has me doubting if I’ll ever come back. I’ve helped organize/put on races, volunteered at dozens more, and run numerous race course ‘reroutes’ because of bad weather/snow. But in all those previous circumstances I felt like the race organization did their best to not only look out for runner’s safety, but to make the race/run the best experience possible for it’s participants. I have no doubt the UTMR race committee had runners safety in mind when they cancelled, but the commitment to the latter was not apparent. In the end many of us jumped into the 20km race on Saturday 9/7 (also with a rerouted course, we didn’t touch a single drop of snow) just to get some sort of running in. This definitely helped to lighten the mood around town, as most of us were a bit run-gry from sitting around for 24-36h doing nothing (instead of running).
Runners ascending through the clouds during Saturday’s 20km race.
Clouds parting to mountain views, briefly, during the 20km race.
So now this leaves me (and several hundred other runners) in a very strange place. We’re fit and tapered with no where to go? I personally have a strong interest in personal unsupported, self-created adventure runs, so the wheels are already turning for how to use this untapped fitness. Others are stressing to find ways to cap off a season’s worth of training with something fulfilling and meaningful. In the end it’s just running, and any day you can come back from the mountains safely is a win, but most of the time we prefer to also enjoy some sort of adventure or experience as part of that process. Here’s to always moving forward, dreaming of the next big adventure, and not dwelling too much on the past that can not be changed. Huge thanks to all the volunteers who did everything they could to helped us run what we did, made every aid station stop I had a fantastic experience, and who really did try to help us navigate the mire of confusing messages and constantly changing news. My Strava track for the route I ran. I’m still working on a video from the 80km I ran on the course, so hopefully will have that put together by next week.
Squish, splash, splosh….what had started out as such a beautifully promising trail had quickly descended into a horse trodden mud bog….would the whole run be this way? The Maple Springs Trail had started out as beautifully cruiser crushed gravel meandering through the lush green forest, but as soon as I turned onto the Mill Branch Trail I found out what the ranger had warned me about, the horse trails were muddy….
Lush green forests and muddy trails of Kentucky along the Mill Branch trail in Mammoth Cave NP.
Mammoth Cave National Park is best known because its currently (May 2019) the world’s longest cave system at over 406miles of passageway with more still being discovered. The cave system has a long history of human exploration and exploitation along with a hugely diverse ecosystem inside and out. While the cave itself may be the best known feature of the park, the park also has a beautiful trail system, covering over 70miles, exposing one to the surface geology and weather that makes the formation of the cave possible (more on the caves at the end).
My run set off from the Maple Springs Trailhead cruising the beautiful crushed gravel paths through some of the greenest forest I’ve ever run through. Several days of rain had really brought everything to life…. including the mud. As I transitioned onto the duel use horse trails, the smooth path turned into a chopped up muddy mess. I sloshed my way around the North edge of the park on the Mill Branch and Blair Springs trails, both of which consisted largely of ankle deep mud…bleh. I got a short reprieve as I passed the First Creek TH (7.6mi, 1:30) and climbed the ridgeline high above Second Creek. The foliage briefly transitioned to pines and hemlock, before returning back to the dense hardwood forest.
My starting point at the Maple Springs TH in Mammoth Cave NP.
One of many cascades along the trail in Mammoth Cave NP.
When the trails weren’t a mud bog they really were beautiful…rolling
single track, swooping through the neon green forest and limestone rock
formations randomly jutting out of the hillside. As I made a turn to parallel the
Nolin River the trail transitioned back to the horrid mud bog, and I splashed
my way passed First Creek Lake (nice campsites) and then up the steep hill to
Temple Hill (14.3mi, 3:00).
First Creek Lake, several lovely campsites.
Most of the terrain had been incredibly runnable to this point, so it was nice to have some hiking grade to break up the pace. I passed a few hikers on this stretch, the first people I’d seen all day! After a short but abrupt descent down the McCoy Hollow trail, the grade mellowed and the trail weaved in and out of various river drainages before descending to the Wet Prong of Buffalo Creek (20.4mi, 4:20). Another short steep ascent up to Collie Ridge before the trail plummeted straight down to the Dry Prong of Buffalo Creek. When I finally turned onto the Sal Hollow Trail (24.4mi, 5:25, final trail of the day) I was pretty ecstatic to see find it was a non-horse trail, meaning it was the most beautiful section of trail I’d been on all day.
Limestone formations and lots of greenery await you on the trails of Mammoth Cave NP.
Soaking my legs in Sal Hollow to wash off a little mud and cool the feet.
The damp single track weaved around trees and rocky limestone outcroppings, passing springs flowing out of caves and sink holes where the water was most likely draining into the cave system below. I even took a short break to crawl into one of the cave springs for 20-30ft, opting not to delve too deep on my own though. I splashed through a puddle now and again, but overall the footing was stellar, and my tired legs were glad for the reprieve from the mud bogs of earlier. This was the trail I’d been hoping to find all day, and despite being a tired and a little grumpy I was thoroughly enjoying the cruise through the forest, listen to the birds singing and the water cascading out of every hollow. It was on this stretch that the clouds finally broke and the first rays of sun shown through the foliage, dotting the green underbrush with its yellow glow. If only all of the trail system had been this lovely….After 33.1mi and 7:17 I popped out of the forest and back onto the Maple Springs Rd, what a day it had been. National Park Ultramarathon #15 complete.
One of several cave springs along the trail in Mammoth Cave…where did the water come from?
Riding the Green River vehicle ferry across, and me without my floaties.
This trip had been my first real exploration of Kentucky, and it further confirmed my belief that every single state has something beautiful and unique to offer. The rolling green hardwood forests are so unlike anything we have in the West it was a nice change of pace. While I could have done with a little less mud, I’ve never minded getting a little dirty on the run, sometimes you don’t get the perfect conditions, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have an amazing experience. The forests of Kentucky may not have the altitude or expansive views of some of the Western parks, but the beauty lies in much more subtle things. The millipedes crossing the trail, a heron flying across First Lake, unexpected caves dotting the hillsides or simply the ability to get lost in the forest for hours and only see a handful of people.
Sunlight trickling through the leaves of Mammoth Cave NP.
Now on to what brings most people to central Kentucky, the underground labyrinth that is Mammoth Cave….and it sure is mammoth! With a history dating back 1000s of years (to early Native Americans), Mammoth Cave was a known entity long before the Europeans arrived to exploit it. It wasn’t until the mid 1800s that people really began to explore the cave (Stephen Bishop) and cave tourism began to form. Mammoth Cave became a National Park in 1941, and now to visit the caves most people must participate in one of many organized cave tours. While I was not fortunate enough to get on one of the ‘Wild Cave tours’ (reserve early!, includes crawling and scrambling) I did get onto three different tours into very different parts of the cave. In the following paragraph I’ll describe the three tours I took and what I liked/disliked about them. Cave tour reservations can be made here.
The first tour I got on was the ‘Domes and Dripstones tour’ that enters through the New Entrance, which is essentially a dynamite blasted hole into the cave. From this entrance one descends straight into the heart of the cave down a very steep narrow set of stairs. You get a sense of the size of the size of the massive domes where water seeps into the cave and underground rivers. The tour then winds through a variety of passages ending at the Frozen Niagara formation, one of the few formations in this section of the cave. While interesting and beautiful, it was my least favorite tour as it’s a very large group and moves pretty fast, giving one less time to enjoy sections of the cave.
Descending the steep stairs down from the New Entrance deep into Mammoth Cave.
The Frozen Niagara formation in Mammoth Cave.
The second cave tour I took was the ‘Historic Tour’, this one enters through the original historic entrance in the center of the park. The initial passageways are massive, quickly letting one understand why people call it ‘Mammoth’. You then learn a good bit about the history of the cave, from early Native Americans to the salt peter mining and tourism of the 1800s. The walking tour then crosses the Bottomless Pit and into Fat Man’s Misery, a narrow section of passageway (all walkable, with a slight crouch). I found the Historic Tour more interesting than the Domes and Dripstones, partially because of the history, but also because you got a much better sense of the size and variety the cave offers.
The main hallway in Mammoth Cave is pretty darn big.
Looking up one of the giant silos in Mammoth Cave.
The last tour I took was the ‘Great Onyx Cave’ tour, part of the Flint Ridge cave system that as of this writing does not connect with the rest of Mammoth Cave (but is believed to). As we passed through the damp entrance, careful not to step on the cave salamanders (cool!) we quickly emerged into a room adorned with cave formations (drapes, columns, stalagmites/stalagtites, flow stone). As our small group of 20 slowly made our way deeper into the cave by lantern light the cave slowly dried out and the formation disappeared. Replacing the flow stone formations were delicate gypsum crystals, some of them assembled into the most beautiful gypsum flowers I’ve ever seen. While we didn’t cover as much cave passage on this tour I found that the time allotted allowed us to better appreciate the cave and the formations, as did the smaller group size. This was by far my favorite tour of the day.
Wandering Great Onyx Cave by lantern light.
Delicate gypsum flower formations in Great Onyx Cave.
It may be becoming cliché, but my National Parks project is taking me to areas of the country I otherwise may have never visited and explored. The rolling green hills of Kentucky and the always fascinating underground world of the cave truly exceeded my expectations. The US National Park system is not just a collection of big mountain landscapes or desert canyons, though those get most of the attention. Mammoth Cave is definitely worth exploring, both above ground and below. Because it’s the world above (the rain, the rocks, the ecosystem) that make the caves what they are. As always, special thanks to Vfuel for powering all my crazy ideas and adventures and to our National Park System for preserving such amazing places for all to see and experience in a responsible manner. Next up….Badlands National Park and Wind Cave National Park!
Saguaro cacti, cholla, barrel cacti, prickly pear cacti, ocotillo, catclaw, yucca….there are a long list of things in the desert that are just looking to stab, scratch and tear at you. Our lesson learned, just don’t touch anything and you should be good.
The winter of 2018/2019 has been great for skiing, but it’s also seen most of the trails in my home town of Boulder covered with snow/ice and temperatures just cold enough that things have never quite thawed out (which they normally do). In need of a little desert therapy I booked a quick weekend get away to Phoenix/Tucson. This would also give me a chance to knock out another one of my National Park ultra marathons, Saguaro National Park, which borders right up to the city of Tucson. As I started researching routes in the park I was astounded to realize that the park covered a huge diversity of ecosystems; from the desert lowlands covered in its namesake Saguaro cacti, through pinyon and juniper forests to the summit of 8666ft tall Mica Mountain complete with snow and ponderosa pines. Thanks to a little local insight from trail guru Benedict Dugger and the Tucson Trail Runners group I mapped out what looked to be a spectacular 38mile Figure-8 loop that covered a large portion of Saguaro East. A last minute surprise found me able to convince fellow Colorado runner Helen Cospolich to join me for the adventure.
Hiking our way up Picacho Peak, there are a few cabled scramble sections, but the conditions were phenomenal.
I flew out to Phoenix first thing Saturday morning and hit the ground running…literally. I grabbed Helen from her hotel and we headed straight for Picacho Peak State Park for a little warmup jog. The park was crowded, but we were in for a very special treat, as the winter’s unusually high precipitation had turned the park into a carpet of golden poppies and lavender lupine. We spent almost as much time taking photos as hiking and running. When the desert blooms it’s a truly spectacular sight, as the entirety of the landscape turns a vibrant green and wildflowers mingle with spiny succulents. After our morning tour I couldn’t help but head out for an afternoon run up Wasson Peak in West Saguaro National Park. It felt soooo good to simply run on trails again. The colors in the park weren’t peaking to the same level as Picacho Peak, but beautiful displays of wildflowers and smooth flowing single track made for a wonderful loop. Then it was back to the hotel to plot and scheme for the big adventure the following morning.
Desert bursting with life, lupine and poppies carpeting Picacho Peak State Park, 3/19/19.
Helen cruising around the Nature Trail in Picacho Peak SP, how can you not be giddy with trails like this, 3/9/19.
Trail running along the Sendero Esperanza in Saguaro National Park West, 3/9/19.
Sunday morning (3/10/19) Helen and I set out from the Broadway trailhead in the NW corner of the park, cruising our way through a network of trails, surrounded by giant Saguaro, crossing flowing washes (water!) and just ambling our way up to the Carillo and Three Tanks trails (3.2mi). Then the climbing started, up into the foothills of Saguaro we went. The trails were beautifully runnable, lined with an assortment of desert succulents and fields of greenery surrounding the babbling creek that was filling the desert with life. As we made our way up the Three Tanks trail and onto Douglas Springs the cacti gave way to rolling grasslands dotted with pinyon and juniper, slowly transitioning to ponderosa pine forest as we passed the Douglas Springs campground (10.2mi +1mi of detours).
Helen running up the Carillo trail in Saguaro National Park, 3/20/19.
Water flowing in the desert making everything super green this year, 3/10/19.
The Douglas Springs trail, out of the Saguaro zone and into the grasslands, juniper and pinyon, 3/10/19.
Here’s where the real climb began, 1400ft over the next few miles on a somewhat overgrown trail covered in manzanita and catclaw (ouch!) to the 6100ft Cowhead Saddle. This would be the middle of the Figure-8, and the next section was all business. The trail grinds its way up through ponderosa pine forest, passing jagged rock out croppings, and expansive views of the Sonora desert surrounding the mountains on all sides. The wind was really starting to whip through the trees, and boy was it chilly. Helen, opted to turn back and cut it a bit shorter (the trip was promising to run longer than the mapped 38miles). Around 7500ft the snow began, just a few small patches at first, but as I neared the summit of Mica Mountain I found myself more often on snow than not. Thankfully the tracks were easy to follow and the snow held my weight, soon I found myself atop 8666ft Mica Mountain (17.3mi +1.9mi of detours). There weren’t any views to speak of unfortunately as the summit was densely wooded, so I jogged on down the Mica Mountain trail toward Manning Camp.
Ponderosa forests high on Mica Mt, and a little bit of snow, 3/10/19.
I followed the beautifully clear Chimenea creek down the mountain (refilled water) through now slushy snow to the cabin at Manning Camp, then on down down down the Manning Camp trail to Grass Shack Camp (23.6mi +1.9mi of detours). Trail was fun and technical as it zig zagged its way down the steep hillside back into more arid desert terrain. I washed off in the creek at Grass Shack camp and started the climb back up to Cowhead Saddle and Tanque Verde Peak. The temps were cool and the trail pleasant, but the miles and elevation were starting to take their toll, my poor road legs definitely weren’t in shape for this. The first stage of the climb to Cowhead Saddle went by quickly, but the rolling climb up to the summit of the Tanque Verde ridge was a grind. I felt like I was moving in slow motion but, finally I hit Tanque Verde peak (28.1mi +1.9mi of detours), a bit exhausted, but excited that I was done with most of the uphill, downhill running has always been my thing.
Looking over at Tanque Verde Peak from the Manning trail, oy that’s far away, 3/10/19.
Summit of Tanque Verde Peak, happy to finally be going downhill, 3/10/19.
The descent down Tanque Verde peak was long and far more technical than I’d expected, rocky enough to slow the pace, many sharp turns that took one out of any rhythm, and the ever present sharp pointy desert flora threatening to impale one if you happened to stray from the trail even just a little bit. The miles were starting to drag on, but Tucson was slowly getting closer. Past Juniper Camp, and back into the desert, which was bursting with greenery and life, at last I saw the parking lot marking the 5mile to go point of the run (36.7mi +1.9mi of detours). Back down in the desert the afternoon sunlight cast beautiful shadows across the landscape, ocotillo were blooming and the massive Saguaro towered all around. I set out to run every step of that final 5miles across the Cactus Forest trail. Even though I was moving pretty well, the miles seemed to move by sooo slowly. When I finally hit the 2mi to go road crossing I pushed my legs a bit, crushing some 8:30 miles (ha!), and collapsing back at the trailhead 10h59min after we’d set out that morning. Total stats were 43.75mi (1.9m of detours), 9300ft of elevation gain, high point 8666ft, low point 2713ft, lots of cacti seen and my 14th National Park Ultramarathon completed.
The gauntlet of sharp pointy things on the way down the Tanque Verde ridge, 3/10/19.
The desert was bursting with life this spring after some heavier than normal winter rains, 3/10/19.
Back in the Sonoran desert, blooming ocotillo and Saguaro cacti everywhere, 3/10/19.
My run through Saguaro National park perfectly encapsulates why I started my National Park Ultra Project. It was a park I knew very little about other than it had giant Saguaro cacti and was a desert. I never expected to be climbing to the summit of a snow capped mountain, crossing numerous streams and rivers, get startled by white tale deer crashing through the brush, or taking photos of blooming poppies, lupine, prairie clover, evening primrose and globemallow. Our National Park system as a whole covers a huge array of beautiful places with unique ecosystems, but within a single park there is often so much more than its name sake implies for those willing to take their adventure beyond the visitor centers and paved nature trails. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to explore the trails of Tucson and Phoenix, but I will definitely be back. It’s a perfect escape for those of us living in snowy winter climates, because who doesn’t need a little desert therapy once and a while (and good Mexican food!). Special thanks to Helen Cospolich for enduring my slightly longer than advertised run and keeping me company for many miles, Benedict and the Tucson Trail Runners for all the advice. To Vfuel for keeping me energized through all these long unsupported adventures, Adam Engel at Waldron’s Peak for helping fix my arm (still a work in progress) and Myriam Desrosiers massage for taking care of my aching muscles. Next up the Boston Marathon in April and Mammoth Caves National Park in early May! The adventure continues….
The Saguaro are very big, and I am very small. Approx 100year old cacti.
I’m writing this blog to detail the accident and recovery process from my dislocated elbow back in December. When I tried to find information on the recovery process and return to sports/activity, I found very little information, so hopefully this will be useful to someone in the future.
2018 ended on a little bit of a rough note as I took a fall while running down my home town trail of Gregory Canyon (on Green Mountain Boulder), smacking my elbow just right (or wrong) fully dislocating the elbow. Oh boy did that hurt like hell. I sat in the middle of the trail, taking very controlled deep breathes for what seemed like 5-10min (but could have been much longer), trying to figure out exactly what had happened. I initially thought I’d broken something, but as I probed the bones of the upper and lower arm, nothing distal hurt, and the hand, while it tingled was not numb. As we rolled up my sleeve my friend Andrea and I noticed my elbow appeared hollow, yep dislocated, and holy hell did it hurt.
One gnarly looking Xray of a text book elbow dislocation without fractures. I dislocated the elbow in flexion because of major trauma to the humerus during the fall.
Jake and Andrea used two jackets to sling my left arm to stabilize it so I could walk myself out. The final 1/2mi to the TH seemed to take forever, but with the help of a few friends I was able to slowly trudge my way out to the trailhead. For better or worse, the OSMP rangers had been alerted to my fall, so they met me at the trailhead and asked me to wait for the first responders to arrive. The firetruck pulled up, they interviewed me as I sat shivering in the cold, and once they determined I was ‘stable’ they allowed me to forgo the ambulance ride and to arrange my own ride to medical care.
Andrea was kind enough to drive me over to Urgent Care where we were hoping to get my elbow fixed, though when I described the injury the nurse said ‘nope, you need to go to the ER, because you’ll need to be sedated, given muscle relaxers, and it’s a violent procedure to relocate an elbow’….well ok then. We walked into the ER, second in line and I was soon taken back into the operating room. After some very painful X-rays (involving moving my still dislocated elbow around), I was sedated and next thing I knew I awoke, asking when they’d reset my elbow, glanced down and it was already done. They put me in a half cast, wrapped me up and sent me home with some Percocet.
I done broke myself again…argh.
Over the next week all I could do was rest the arm (in a sling) and learn to do everything else one handed. Opening pill bottles with my feet, typing with one hand, showering with a bag over my left arm, getting dressed was a fun adventure. After a week I went in for my first visit with Orthopedist, who gave me the good news that nothing was broken and nothing was completely torn (ie no surgery!). So they took the cast off and told me to move the arm around but NOT to lift anything heavier than a coffee cup. Let the rehabbing begin.
After only a week, the cast comes off, and the elbow/arm looks all kinds of nasty.
Over the next several weeks I gently used the arm for some limited activity; picking up items, typing, showering, but still very minimal weight/pressure. My range of motion had been reduced to 45-90 degrees, pretty pathetic, so I was tasked with moving the arm around and slowly working the ROM back, the most important thing to focus on in the first few weeks. After about three weeks the elbow finally began to feel stable enough so I started some easy jogging and pushing the ROM a little further. After four weeks I began some very light band work (5lb resistance), to try and reengage the atrophied bicep, tricep and forearm. By the new year I was running uninhibited, but still limited to 8lb of resistance in the left arm, so of course I did 60-100 reps of each exercise to compensate….cause that’s what you’re supposed to do right? Working not only on the bicep, tricep and forearm, but all the shoulder, back and chest muscles that had been neglected as the arm recovered. Rehab isn’t very sexy when you’ve got a 5lb weight in your hand.
Working on getting stronger however I can.
Back on the sticks finally, feels good to be out even in a limited capacity
At my 5week post-accident appointment my Dr took some additional Xrays, did some stress tests on the elbow, measured my ROM and declared me healthy enough to start weighted rehab and to increase activity. I was permitted to ski (YEAH), carefully, but to stay away from any activity that would put impact on the arm directly (volleyball and climbing) for at least another 3 weeks. So that brings me to the present day (1/16/19), where I’m now up to 12lb weights for my left arm, I’ve skied, done some wall pushups, a few assisted pullups and have increased my ROM to 10-115 degrees (a dramatic improvement). I’ve still got a lot of work to get back to full strength (still at less than 50%), but I’m getting there. The most important thing at this stage (6weeks out) is to regain the final bit of extension in my arm to straighten it, easier said than done, but with daily stretching and strengthening I’m getting there.
Weighted stretching of the elbow, trying to regain ROM 6weeks after the accident. Getting closer.
Update 1/30/19:
Now just over 8weeks out from the injury and my strength is coming back quickly. I can do assisted pull-ups without pain, push-ups on my knees (albeit with a hitch in my elbow), and even started doing some very easy bouldering. The weight and stretching actually feels good on the elbow. I’m still not at full range of motion as there is some stiffness/tightness in the joint so I’m stuck at 5degrees (not full extension) and I’m almost back to normal on the flexion side. Progress…
Update 5/14/19:
Just over 5 months after my accident I’m ‘fully’ healed, but still dealing with some lingering joint stiffness and I don’t have the last 3-5degrees of extension in my elbow, which may never come back. I’ve been back at full unhindered activity, but still rehabbing the strength and flexibility deficits. I started hitting heavier weights in late March and climbing regularly as well to help stretch the joint and strength the tricep and bicep on the left side. It’s been a slow process, but overall I no longer feel hindered, but it still feels like there’s a block in my left elbow preventing me from fully straightening the arm.
2014 started on a very somber note for the Boulder trail running community, our friend and fellow runner Marcy Servita had just been diagnosed with late stage pancreatic cancer….a diagnosis which is never good. The community rallied around her, those closest to her gave everything they could; time, energy, food, love….but on March 16th, 2014 we lost Marcy. It was a tremendous loss for the community, and obviously hit those closest to her very hard, including my friend and fellow ultra runner Greg Salvesen. Greg and Marcy had been ultra running friends (and training partners) through the Boulder Banditos running group (where we’d also met). To honor what Marcy loved (running) and as a way to cope with the loss, Greg decided to run a 100mile+ race every month in 2014…..so the story begins.
On March 16th, 2014 we lost Marcy Servitas to her battle with Pancreatic cancer.
As 2014 rolled on Greg was ticking off 100mile races as if they were 5k’s; HURT, Rocky Racoon, Antelope Island, Zion, Peak 200, Bighorn, Vermont, Fatdog…… After a hiccup with the cancellation of Mogollon Monster due to weather, Greg decided to still finish up the year’s races….though there was one issue, there were no 100mile race in December? Thanks to good friends Ryan Smith and Nick Pedatella a 100mile route was drawn up to circumnavigate Boulder, and a crew was recruited to support the run. In December 2014, supported by a crew of his friends, and joined by Ryan, Nick and a few others, they completed what became the first Boulder Badass 100 run. Since that time the Boulder Badass has become an annual event, focused on community, comradery and just doing crazy things. Fast-forward to 2018, in June I received a group message welcoming me to the 2018 version of the Boulder Badass as one of 8 participants….oh damn, I’d have only four weeks after the Grindstone 100 to recover and run yet another 100mile event.
The original Boulder Badass crew in 2014. A bunch of Dodos.
After a summer full of adventure culminating in a sub-24hour run at the Grindstone 100 (see previous post), I had four weeks to get my legs to a place where I could yet again run 100miles, by far the quickest turnaround I’d ever attempted. At 10pm on Friday Nov 2nd to the melodic reverberations of the Fart Blaster, seven of us pranced out my front door into the rainy night with only one goal…to survive the 100mile circumnavigation of Boulder before work on Monday morning. We ran head first into the cold driving rain, mud from the trails sticking to our shoes and rain threatening to soak through our jackets. Thankfully by the time we reached Dowdy Draw the rain tapered off and the stars began to break through the clouds. We fought our way around the South Boulder trails, 30-40mph winds intermittently whipping across the grasslands, just the seven of us joking around in the dark night.
A crew of dedicated friends had volunteered to crew us through the cold dark night, and were always an energetic and welcoming site for the seven of us. As we jogged our way through Walker Ranch daylight finally percolated through the cloud layer and we were able to switch off our headlamps. By the time we reached the Walker Ranch TH we were 38miles and 10hours into the Boulder Badass, but had a long way to go. The crew was ready and waiting at Walker Ranch, and we were happy to see them. We refueled, joked around then packed up and dragged our first set of pacers off onto the Meyers Gulch trail with us. We dropped down into a snow storm on Magnolia road, where Hurculean Paul ran into a dead tree at full speed knocking the 20ft tall trunk in Colleen’s direction with a huge crash, narrowly missing her. We all had a good laugh at Colleen’s near death experience, and spirits stayed high as we pounded down Magnolia road to the next crew point.
Party at the Walker Ranch Aid Station.
The gang cruising along the aquaduct toward Magnolia rd.
We arrived to quite an entourage at the base of Magnolia road, there was lots of stoke and despite having 43miles on our legs we were all moving pretty well. Next up was a little jaunt through Betasso with a whole new crew of friends hitching along for the ride. We jogged, laughed, screwed around a fair bit but kept a slow and steady pace forward. The continual stream of fresh faces joining us for Sanitas, the Hogback, Boulder Valley Ranch and finally the long haul along the bike paths back into town kept us distracted. Each time we rolled into an aid station the crowd seemed to grow, the noise decibel increased and a handful of fresh meat would join us for some miles.
The whole gang still together in Betasso. Photo by Flannery Davis.
Road side madness in Sunshine Canyon. Photo by Brendan Davis.
70miles and 20hours in we reached the Cottonwood trailhead on the East side of Boulder. I picked up Adam who was to join me for the rest of the fun filled night ahead. We had broken up into runner/pacer teams now, though none of us were far apart and I spent the boring bike trail miles leap frogging with Colleen, Paul and Doug. We all had a good laugh at the ridiculousness of our situations, the pain we were willingly enduring and as always at Doug’s endless stream of entertaining word vomit. When I rolled into Eben G Fine just after 8pm there was a serious party going on, it was a bit overwhelming for my tired brain, but I did feed off the energy a bit.
Summit of Mt Sanitas party!
Arriving at the Foothills TH to quite a welcome.
All business, or were we…..Photo by Brendan Davis
After Eben G Fine the fun began, a proper skyline traverse, with a full descent between most of the peaks to maximize elevation gain. Chapman Dr was a slog, and the mindset of most of the runners was slowly deteriorating into ultra-mush. After a little bit of confusion that had all of us taking different lines down off Flagstaff Mountain, we hit the last aid station at the Gregory TH, staggered 5-10min apart. This was our last refuel point before the long haul up and over Green, Bear and SoBo, so each of us took an extra few minutes to get our shit together. As I stood up to leave Ryan informed me that in proper Badass tradition we’d be running down Baseline Rd to Chautauqua then BACK to Amphitheater (which was currently 200ft away). In a moment of childish frustration I picked up a handful of cheese and threw it at Ryan before jogging off down the road with Adam.
Sunset from the Res, damn those peaks are far away.
I hit the climb up Amphitheater with reinvigorated legs, but just after the ladder that energy soon faded and the death march was on. Doug soon caught back up to us, greeted us with a ‘Hello Assholes’ and we commiserated our way to the summit of Green, two more summits to go. Doug and his entourage of three took off just ahead of us down Green. Fern turned out to be the slog we were all dreading. Colleen caught up to Adam and I about half way up as I drunk stumbled my way up the steep stairs, half awake, but half in a glazed over stupor. We rolled over Bear Peak and to the summit of South Boulder Peak, bypassing the crew at the saddle until the return trip. Once back at the SoBo saddle we all had only one thing on our mind, getting this shit done. I chugged a little redbull,thanked the badass volunteers who had trekked all the way up there at midnight and began the painful rock hop down shadow canyon.
“Hello Assholes”, Doug says the skyline is hard. Photo by Adam Chapman.
My feet ached with every step, the tendons in my ankles were stiff, my knees sore and my mind foggy, but with only 5miles to go it was time to get this shit done. I limped my way slowly down shadow, finally exiting the canyon only to see Jeff and Colleen’s lights coming back from the wrong direction? I made a joke to them and Colleen’s only response was something to the effect of “we went the wrong @$%* way…” and she ran off, woman was on a mission. The final few miles went by slowly, as my drive to push had faded and I was happy to power hike my way to the finish and just enjoy the cool night air. Adam and I arrived back at my house 31h54min36sec after departing on Friday night. It had been a long couple days, lots of highs and lows, lots of banter, lots of non-sense shared, and laughs had. In the end six of the seven starters had completed the entire 100mile+ course. It also turned out that the Badass was my 10th 100mile event finish, my ‘1000mile buckle’ in a sense.
Gwen overwhelmed with emotion after becoming the first finisher of the 2018 Boulder Badass. Photo Ryan Smith.
As we all lay crumpled on the floor of my living room, the only thought that came to our minds was how happy we were to be done. We were sore, exhausted, a bit delirious, but all really happy with our efforts over the past several days. The Badass had never been about beating anyone or breaking a time goal, it had been about the shared experience, the comradery and the community. While the seven of us may have been the centers of attention, the event was about bringing the local ultra community together. To support and be supported, to show that running is just running, but what makes these crazy long events so special is the community surrounding it and the friendships they foster. The Badass was created as a way to commemorate someone who left a whole in our community’s heart, but in its place was born an event that, even after five years, still emanates the love and good vibes that makes Ultrarunning so unique and amazing. This is why, even after 12years of running these things, I’m still not ready to throw in the towel, because of the support and the community that is ultrarunning.
The 2019 Boulder Badass planning has already begun. Eli is the first new participant welcomed to run.
Enjoying my 2nd 100mile burger in 4weeks. 2000 Calories of greasy goodness, thanks Southern Sun.
Finisher plaques for completing the 2018 Boulder Badass. Sweet Dodo bird fossil molds, with custom inscription. Thanks Julia & Silke!
Special thanks to all of the Rocky Mountain Runners for keeping such an awesome tradition alive and supporting us through this huge undertaking. To my fellow runners; Gwen, Colleen, Paul, Dan, Doug and Guy for sharing so many miles and all the laughs along the way. To the Godfather Greg Salvesen and the Mastermind Ryan Smith for inspiring this event (yes it’s your faults). To my pacers Nick, Josh, Derek, Mike, Aiden, Ginna and Adam…it really does take a village to raise an Idiot, and we’re especially big idiots. Lastly thanks to Vfuel for keeping me energized through this brutally exhausting two month stretch and my massage therapist Myriam Desrosiers for keeping my legs functional after all the beating they’ve taken.
It had been over 3 years since my last 100mile race (2015 UTMB), and with family now in the Durham region it gave me a little extra incentive to try my hand at an East Coast 100. If you know me you know I like things with lots of climbing and the more technical the better, so the Grindstone 100 seemed to fit the bill. I spent my summer doing my usual thing of running around the mountains and just playing, though I threw in some long runnable mountainous terrain, knowing that Grindstone had a lot of runnable vertical and my legs would need to be in shape for the grinds.
On the summit of Castle Peak, with the rest of the Elks over my shoulder, it was a long journey.
Maybe it wasn’t the most appropriate training, but on September 9th I completed a 31hour solo ‘run’ of the Elks 14er traverse. The 55mile, 24000ft vertical, class 3-5 felt good and I had faith that if all else failed I could slog out Grindstone. So all that was left was a few maintenance runs and a solid taper. Well I kind of failed on the taper part, throwing in a few flatiron tempo run/scrambles and the week before Grindstone a 26mile pacing gig at the Bear 100, but hey, they were all tons of fun 🙂
Scrambling up Fi Fun the week before Grindstone (I’m third), its hard to taper with cool shit like this in the backyard. Photo by Todd Straka.
Pacing Bailee at the Bear 100, we were twins! Photo by Lori Burlison.
Taper jog with the nephews and sister. Next time the older one will be pacing me!
The week before I spent a few days relaxing with family, slowly adapting to the steamy humidity of the East Coast. The race was shaping up to be a warm and humid affair (60s-70s). As I packed my drop bags I felt as though I was missing something, was I really not going to need any warm clothing? I arrived at Camp Shenandoah just in time for 2pm check-in, met up with fellow Coloradans Nick and Andrew and settled in for a quick race briefing before laying down to try and catch a few hours of napping in the steamy afternoon sun. I laid in the car for a few hours, not really sleeping, but getting some pre-race rest none the less.
Race kit, ready to rock and roll.
Pre-race briefing madness all crammed into the dining hall.
I roused around 5pm, did my last minute race prep, then made my way over to the start line. Runners were nervously wandering every which way and a crowd was gathering near the start line, it was almost go time. Pre-race I always try to keep my distance from too much of the madness, just trying to relax the nerves and the anxious energy, Grindstone was no different. A few minutes before 6pm on Oct 5th the mass of runners assembled behind the banner in the field, all of us hoping that in less than 38hours we’d be crossing back under that banner in one piece. I took my place about 3-4 rows back, hoping to start out more casually and to stick to my strategy of just cruising the first 51miles, then seeing what would happen after that. The count down was on, and off we went, at a hot 7min pace, no surprise there. I dialed it back quickly to an 8:30, much more comfortable and reasonable. You see, 100milers are, well, 100miles long, so hitting it hard the first few miles never does you any good.
All lined up at the start, 70F and humid, its gonna be a warm one.
The first several miles alternated between single track, open double track road and rocky creek beds. The pace was quick as we all pushed to squeeze in as much daylight running as possible. I blew through the first aid station at mile 5 (as planned) and just kept on jogging toward the first major climb of the race to Elliot Knob. The initial part of the climb was fairly runnable, save for some really wet and rocky sections along the creek. As we made our way up through the trees another runner asked if anyone had checked the dew point….why would that matter, what a silly question, or was it??? When we hit the fire road that leads to the summit of Elliot Knob I was sooo excited to be in steep hiking territory, that’s where I excel (at least more so than running). I settled in to a nice strong power hike, slowly picking off people as we climbed up and up.
As we climbed higher the fog started to descend upon us, so that’s why he was asking about the dew point! Soon we were fully enveloped in a dense mist, our headlamps reflecting every way but to the ground, moisture building up on my eye lashes, this was going to complicate things for sure. Elliot Knob was full on zero vis, so I pulled off my headlamp and held it in my hand as I ran down the hill, catching up to Andrew as we made our way over to Dry Branch Gap (2:53). I eased off the gas a little bit on the rolling downhill and settled in for the long night ahead. The section from Dry Branch Gap through Dowell Draft, Lookout and into North River Gap was a misty blur. I settled into my own head and just let the miles flow by.
I jogged into North River Gap (7:30) at mile 37 feeling ok, the course had been very runnable to this point, definitely not my strength, but I was looking forward to the long climb to Little Bald Knob. I took a few minutes to refuel at North River Gap and started jogging up the rolling climb before settling back into a power hike. The fog dropped back in, and I was once again isolated, just me and my headlamp. After cresting the endless climb the terrain mellowed out and it was back to shuffling along the muddy double track (I gave up dodging puddles and just ran through everything), through the Little Bald AS up Reddish Knob, and finally on to the pavement that led to the Turn Around.
My legs were feeling a bit tight so I opened up the stride on the road, it felt good to just run downhill. I even flipped off my headlamp for a few minutes, and to my excitement saw the stars breaking through the fog overhead. After a fairly quick stop at the Turn Around (11:20) I settled into a brisk power hike back up the road. When I crested the uphill near Reddish Knob and began running down the muddy road everything just felt good, so I started pushing the legs a little faster, then a little faster. I ran all the gentle uphills and cruised back into Little Bald Knob AS with a new fire, now I was racing. I jogged most of the rolling uphill back to Little Bald Knob as the first rays of sun light streamed through the fog. It was game time, and I opened up the pace hammering the downhill, passing 6 more runners on the steep terrain (including Andrew and Nick) moving up into 8th place.
After a long 12hours in the dark the sun breaks through the fog and day is here.
My legs felt really good and I rolled back into North River Gap (14:18) almost an hour ahead of schedule, so early that my friends Tressa and Doug weren’t expecting me. I quickly dumped all my night time gear in my drop bag, grabbed a handful of gels, some gummy bears and started running up the road toward the Lookout AS. I was determined to keep pushing as long and as hard as I could. Tressa’s friend Doug joined me for this section and it was nice to have company for a bit, since I’d run almost all night alone. As we hiked and jogged our way up toward the Lookout AS I could feel the after effects of pushing hard the past 20miles catching up with me. We rolled into Lookout and took a few minutes to try and recharge, I’d put myself into a hole that I now had to dig out of.
Not a bad place to slog out a few miles in some lovely hardwood forest.
The final 28miles was a brutal slog in proper 100miler fashion. My energy levels alternated between peppy and zombie, but my legs were totally shelled and I had no oompf uphill. Though I can’t say I ran well those final 20+ miles, I just kept on grinding. My legs were stiff, my muscles were exhausted, I smelled terrible (according to Tressa), but we were still able to share many laughs and stories in those final miles. We rolled into the final aid station and I told my sister (who was going to pace me) that we had 1:27 to go 5.3mi to make it in under 24hours, I didn’t know if my legs had it in them, but I sure as heck was gonna give it a shot.
Nick and I being entertained by Frank, Dave Horton and crew at Dowell’s Draft. Even when hurting you can still have fun.
I may have felt like crap, but its only running after all.
I put my head down and slow shuffled the flats, power hiked the ups and tried to let the legs roll on the downs. The miles slowly ticked away, and I just kept grinding. We finally reached the edge of the Boy Scout camp with 27min to go and 1.5miles, for the first time in the last 20miles I felt confident we were gonna make it under 24hours! We jogged through the trees and around the lake, the stiffness was still there, but the pain had temporarily gone numb as the adrenaline of the finish line surged. We ran across the field, I crossed the finish line in 23:51:27 (16th overall) and crumpled to the ground, thoroughly wasted. A high five from my nephew, hugs from my sister and friend Tressa and the satisfaction of knowing I’d given the race all I had, it had beaten me down, but I’d persevered regardless.
My sister and I joyously crossing the finish line in under 24hours.
The race had many ups and downs, for 20miles I’d felt nearly invincible, only to come crashing back down again. Despite all that it was great to share those final 20miles with first my friend Tressa and then my sister. 100 mile races are often very solitary adventures for me, as I end up running alone for countless hours, but it’s always great to share some of those miles with good people. Grindstone was an amazing adventure in brand new terrain. The race had lived up to its billing as a tough and unrelenting East Coast mountain run. The night was long and hard, the trails were a mix of runnable terrain and brutal climbs, the damp fog and mud added a whole new dimension to an already tough course. I would highly recommend Grindstone to anyone looking for a challenging but really well run and well supported 100miler. Thanks to both Andrew and Nick for sharing some of those miles and a few laughs along the course. To Doug, Tressa and Kirsten for slogging out those final 35miles with me, Vfuel Endurance for keeping me powered up to reaching my ‘A’ goal despite the ups and downs. 100milers are never easy, but they are always an adventure, looking forward to the next one on Nov 2nd (?!?!)….stay tuned.
This is what 100miles of wet and muddy feet without a shoe change will do.
Post-race recovery tour of Shanendoah NP.
The infamous 100mile burger, >2000calories of greasy amazing.
Map of my route through the Elks, with a few deviations.
“We do not conquer mountains, nor tame the elements. The true conquest lies in penetrating those barriers of self-imposed limitations within our minds.” – Sharon Wood (1st North American woman to climb Everest)
Oh great fresh snow on the scree, my favorite…as I stared up at the back side of Castle and Conundrum peak, rolling my eyes at the continued absurdity of the route commonly known as the Elks Traverse. I’d been awake and on my feet for almost 28hours at this time and what an adventure it had been… but let’s take it back a few years to where this stupidity all began.
I’ve always loved climbing mountains, gasping for breath in the thin crisp air, panoramic views, the technical challenges of route finding and scrambling. All of these things draw me to the mountains, but mostly it’s the adventure of delving into the unknown, into a landscape where you are the guest and not in charge, where you can go for hours without seeing another soul because no one else in their right mind would come this way. The mountains are a place I go to both escape and to find myself. The Elk Mountains near Aspen are no exception, a rugged group of crumbling peaks, containing seven of Colorado’s vaunted 14ers. The difficulties of these peaks is what initially drew me to them; from the Knife edge on Capitol to the ‘Deadly’ Bells traverse, and the crumbling ledges of Pyramid peak… the 14ers of the Elk Mountains are among the most difficult in the state.So naturally it wasn’t enough to just climb them, but could I link them all together in a single push?
This is what 7000calories looks like.
All my gear for the Elks traverse.
Over the past several years I’ve scouted various connections; running the sections, wandering through some scary and sketchy no-go routes, but eventually finding reasonably passable lines between all the peaks.In 2015 I made a horribly misguided attempt to link Pyramid to Capitol (it snowed and rained all day so I bailed), then in 2016 I linked Capitol through the Bells in a solid 15hour push, so linking them all together started to seem feasible. Fast forward to 2018, with no distinct summer plans other than to play in the mountains I was keeping a keen eye on weekend weather windows in hopes of finding a time to make an attempt at the linkup. Finally on the weekend of Sept 8th-9th the weather looked good enough, so I called up a friend Jeason to join for the first section and help with the car shuttle and we were set to start at 4am on Saturday…oh boy, here goes nothing.
Sunrise on our way up Capitol Peak.
Capitol Peaks knife edge and final ridge straight ahead.
We set off in the chilly morning air (410a) from the Capitol Creek TH just rolling along, jogging and chatting as we moved through the dark. As we ascended the switchbacks above Capitol Lake, the first hint of morning cast dark shadows across the tundra, and the horizon began to glow orange. The sky was completely clear and as we made our way up toward K2 the talus was finally bathed in warm sunlight, perfect. We scampered past a few groups, across the Knife edge, and up the direct ridgeline to Capitol’s summit (my preferred route, #1, 3:20). We had the top all to ourselves, and as I looked across the range it struck me that I could see all the peaks of the traverse…%#$ Castle was far away. Well, no time to waste, from here on out the route is mostly off trail until reaching Maroon Lake.
Looking down across Pierre Lakes basin, miles of talus.
Back across the Knife edge, down the scree, we banked a hard right dropping into the scree chute that is the Wandering Dutchman couloir. After slip sliding our way down the class 2-3 gulley we were faced with crossing Pierre Lakes basin, several miles of rarely traveled scree and talus that separates Snowmass from Capitol Peak, bounded by the heinous cliffs of the Snow-Cap Ridge. Thankfully I have the route across the basin pretty dialed so Jeason and I made quick work of it (filling our water along the way), soon arriving at the base of the most hideous part of the route. The class 3-4 shit slope that leads to the Snow-Cap saddle and allows passage to the West face of Snowmass, a necessary evil.
Looking up at the Snow-Cap saddle, all the choss.
Crawling up to the Snow-Cap saddle, its that shitty.
We staggered ourselves and crawled (literally) our way up and over the saddle then rock hopped around to the West ridge of Snowmass Mountain. I felt like I was moving in slow motion up the ridge, but we hit the summit in 7:00 (#2), not bad considering the effort and terrain. The weather was still spectacular, so we quickly jogged off down the ridge, and descended the open scree and slab face formerly known as the ‘snowmass’. I made a last minute change that rather than take the high route over the subridge that I’d descend to Snowmass Lake, grab water then use the trail to traverse around to the back side of the Bells, approaching from below. This would allow for a water refill and also more oxygen, as I wasn’t feeling very strong above 12k.
The talus traverse around to the West Ridge of Snowmass.
View from Snowmass Lake back toward Snowmass.
The trail section over to the base of Buckskin felt really good, but before I knew it I was bushwacking my way up social trails towards the backside of the Maroon Bells. At first the travel was easy going on game trails (as I’d remembered), but soon I found myself traversing a bit too high above the valley and bushwacking through willows, ug. At last I arrived at the base of the Gunsight couloir and North Maroon, though with a slightly different plan this time. I took off at an ascending traverse around North Maroon, popping out right at the start of the Bells traverse, perfect! I’ve always enjoyed the traverse, as the climbing on the most technical sections is solid, but definitely in the low 5th class range. As I neared Maroon Peak I realized that the lingering snow was definitely going to be an issue, forcing me to tiptoe very carefully up the slick ledges to the summit (#3, 11:10).
Looking up the valley toward the backside of the Maroon Bells.
Looking up at the Gunsight (left) and North Maroon (middle).
Then, as per my plan, I set back out across the traverse again, this time getting to upclimb all the technical sections, making it back to the summit of North Maroon in just 46min (#4, 12:00). It was a quiet afternoon on the mountain as I began my descent of the standard route on North Maroon Peak, hopping around a few wet and snowy sections, losing the trail a few times but finally reaching the Buckskin Pass trail and the Crater lake junction. I’d be lying if I said that the ascent of Pyramid Peak didn’t scare me, but looking at my watch I knew I had about 2hours to get as much of the ascent done before things got dark…no time to waste.
View of South Maroon from the traverse, a little snowy.
Looking down the valley I climbed up to connect from Snowmass.
Making friends on the descent of North Maroon Peak.
I settled into a power hike up the very good climbers trail into Pyramid’s upper basin, feeling sluggish, but making good time. As I began to crawl my way up the dirty gravel slope to the saddle at 13000ft the evening light began to wane (15:20). I glanced up at the maze like upper slopes of Pyramid, well, here we go. As I began to scramble across the ledges the final light of the setting sun faded away and I was left with just my narrow headlamp beam, the occasional cairn and my memory of the route. To my surprise I soon found myself on the summit of Pyramid Peak (#5, 16:10). The descent went surprisingly well, and though the talus and scree was slow I made my way back down to the climbers trail without incident, very excited to be back on a trail again and able to jog a bit.
Sunset over the Bells from the shoulder of Pyramid Peak.
Last light as I climb my way up toward Pyramid Peak.
After a quick stop at the oh so quiet Maroon Lake TH to fill water and use the bathroom (19:00), I jogged off into the lonely darkness. I power hiked and yogged my way slowly up East Maroon creek, occasionally catching a few sprinkles, enjoying being able to move without too much thought to each foot step for the first time all day. As I ascended toward treeline a soft rain began to fall….then it picked up to a steady rain. I threw on my rain gear hoping for a passing storm, but no such luck this night. Above treeline the driving rain muted my headlamp and I lost the trail several times in alpine meadows, but I finally got myself up to Copper pass, as a cold sleet pelted my jacket, which was struggling (but thankfully succeeding) to keep me dry. As I traversed the ridge to Triangle Pass the rain finally began to let up and out of the darkness came a sign marking the top of the pass, a welcome sight (25:05).
Morning hot springs action at Conundrum hot springs. It was a long night.
I jogged down the steep trail into the valley below, just as the first light of morning began to illuminate the horizon. I’d survived the night, it had been a slow and damp slog, but I was nearing the final two summits, I was actually going to finish this thing. My feet and legs were soaked from the night’s rain and all the willows, so I walked straight into Conundrum hot spring (shoes on) to warm up my feet (26:10), and damn did it feel good. As I ascended up the valley on the backside of Conundrum it became apparent that the adventure of the Elks Traverse wasn’t over just yet. The last 600ft of talus to the saddle was covered in a delightful glaze of fresh snow, YEAH, because miserable talus wasn’t enough fun, now there was a glaze of snow and ice on top.
Climbing up more talus on the way to Castle and Conundrum, note the snowy talus ahead.
Staring at Castle Peak, my final summit, from the top of Conundrum.
On the summit of Castle Peak, with the rest of the Elks over my shoulder, it was a long journey.
I slowly crawled my way up the final talus slope, one step up, slide 6” back down. When I finally reached the sunlight streaming through the saddle a wave of relief came over me, all the adversities were behind me, and all I had to do was follow the standard routes to Conundrum and Castle. I quickly tagged Conundrum (#6, 29:00) then cruised over to Castle Peak’s summit, topping out on the beautifully clear fall day, all by my lonesome on the summit. It was only fitting that after spending over 29hours in the mountains (mostly alone) that I’d have the final summit (#7, 29:30) all to myself. I hiked and jogged my way down the Castle Creek Rd and back to the 2wd trailhead, finishing my journey in 31:34:52, the second fastest time on the route and the fastest known unsupported time.
Quick stop along Castle Creek Rd to take in some fall colors.
Now over a week after finishing I’ve finally been able to absorb a little of what the journey meant. It was the culmination of many years of scouting and planning. A line that when done unsupported requires one’s full physical and mental attention to deal with the constant off trail navigation, endless miles of talus and scree, numerous class 4-5 climbing sections plus the rest of the adversity that comes with moving through the high mountains for 30hours+. The scenery had been stunning, I’d traveled through areas very few others have seen, experienced two sunrises and a sunset without sleeping, but most importantly I’d proven to myself that such a daunting line was not impossible (for me). While I have no desire to go back and attempt this line again any time soon, the experiences of the journey will forever be etched into my memory, an adventure I will not soon forget.
Special thanks to Jeason Murphy for keeping me company for the first two peaks and for helping with the logistics of the car shuttle. To Vfuel for keeping me powered through such crazy endeavours, Salomon for providing me with the perfect tools for adventure (Advanced Skin 12 pack), to Myriam Desrosiers and Ginna Ellis at Boulderacusport for making sure my legs are able to keep up with such madness, and all my friends and training partners for always challenging me to be stronger and faster. I’ve included a handful of photos with this report, but am also working on a little video slide show of the journey.
Gear List for Unsupported Elks FKT, 9/9/18
Salomon Advanced Skin 12 pack
Patagonia R.5 long sleeve
Hind Drylete long sleeve
Tech shirt
Patagonia strider shorts
Ski socks
OR Fleece gloves
Smartwool beanie
OR Swift cap
Adidas Terrex sunglasses
Ski socks
Inov8 X-talon 212
OR Helium II jacket
Luke’s Ultralite silnylon pants
SPOT locator
Garmin Spartan Ultra watch
Samsung Galaxy Phone (also camera)
Emergency Kit: space blanket, bandages, alcohol wipes, gauze, lighter, 1.5″ pocket knife, ibuprofen, chlorine dioxide tablets, garbage bag, three 1q ziplock bags, hand warmers, albuterol inhaler.
There are a lot of arches in Arches National Park…duh! But there is so much more than is written on the tourist map or than one can see from the road. Over the years I’ve had a chance to explore some of the lesser traveled canyons, climb some of the rock formations and stumble upon hidden arches, making me realize that within the craggy desert landscape lies so much more. So when I set out to map a route across Arches National Park I knew it was going to be an adventurous one; full of sand, route finding and a good bit of unknown.
The first half of the Arches NP Ultra route.
The second half of the Arches NP Ultra route.
I convinced Adam and Ben to join me on a toasty April day (28th, 2018), and we set out from the Sand Dune Arch trailhead deep within the park. We jogged our way across the nicely packed sand and slickrock, past Sand Dune arch, Broken arch and into the Devil’s Playground campground for the short section of road over to the Devil’s Garden trailhead. We chatted, oogled the pale red rock formations and posed in front of what seemed to be an endless stream of arches. Tunnel arch, Pine Tree arch, Landscape arch, Wall arch, Navajo arch, Partition arch…..and we were only 5miles into our 50k journey! As we continued around the primitive loop we ascended to the tops of the rock fins that make up the Devil’s Garden, by far the coolest trail in the park. We jogged past the tourist across a 6ft wide fin, hopped off and continued on our way toward the Dark Angel. From the Dark Angel came the first bit of real adventure, as we dropped down a rocky gulley to a plateau that sheltered some of the coolest petroglyphs I’ve seen!
Our first arch of many, Sand Dune arch.
Double O Arch, one of 13 arches we saw on the run.
Running the fins in the Devils Garden, weeee.
Petroglyphs hidden deep within Arches National Park.
The next section would prove to be pretty slow, as we descended a rocky wash (all off trail) then hacked our way through low brush down sandy washes all the way to the Salt Valley road. Once back on the road it was smooth jogging back up to Tower Arch and into the Klondike Bluffs. As the maintained sections of the park goes, this is probably the least traveled, and we saw all of two parties as we headed South along the spine of the ridge. The April sun was starting to beat us up, and temperatures were rising into the 80s as we trudged across the sandy hills. This 8mile section was definitely the mental crux of the route for us all. We finally approached Herdina Park, another cool set of rock formations that rise out of the sandy desert. We struck off trail again, hugging the rock walls, passing by the Eye of the Whale and soon arriving at our refill rendezvous point along Willow Flat Rd, except our crew (Amanda) was no where to be seen???
So begins the first off trail portion of the adventure, scrambling down the wash.
Running the dirt road to Tower Arch and the Klondike bluffs.
Tower Arch (below the tower on the right) and the remote backcountry of Arches.
After 15min of searching up and down the road we finally got a text that Amanda was on her way to us, pffeeww, cause we were all running out of water. I refilled all my water and food stores, but as I did it became apparent that both Adam and Ben were pretty beat up from the heat and sand and wouldn’t be continuing. So it was down to just me, the rocks, the sand, and the canyons. I jogged a short way down the Willow Flat rd then took a hard Southernly turn into Upper Courthouse wash. From here the route finding got really simple…head down the canyon until I reached the park road again, or so I thought.
The sculpted upper section of Courthouse Wash.
The spring in upper Courthouse Wash….
As I descended down Upper Courthouse I had to dodge a few dry falls, no biggy, then dropped into this cool sculpted canyon, where a few springs popped out of the rock walls. Then all of a sudden there was as pool of clear spring water right in front of me…huh, didn’t expect that out here. I waded on through and continued through the thicket on the other side, only to be confronted with a 20ft wide canyon that was water and thick brush from wall to wall…ok guess I’m wading. As I waded down stream the water got shin deep, then knee deep, then really murky…..ahead I could see a beaver dam, the reason for this pool. As I scampered over the dam and looked down the valley I quickly realized the adventure was far from over. The stream continued to flow down canyon and on all sides the valley was choked by dense brush and tamarisk, my favorite!
The beavers of Arches National Park????? That water was nasty!
Courthouse Wash, no longer flooded, but a delightful romp in the creek and shade.
The obvious choice was to just splash my way straight down the stream (only ankle deep now), which turned out to be amazingly refreshing in the 87F heat. When I plotted out the route I never anticipated running several miles through a flowing stream in the middle of Arches NP, but here I was none-the-less. I hadn’t seen a soul since I left my friends, and as I bushwacked and splashed my way down canyon, knew I wasn’t going to see anyone until I hit the pavement 7miles later. After a short section on the park road I dropped onto the Park Avenue trail, the grand finale. Even though I was again surrounded by tourist, the final 2.5miles was stunning and perfect. I was hot, tired, sore, but immensely happy. Towering sandstone walls rose hundreds of feet on either side of me, blooming desert cacti nestled in between the rocks, and I was finishing up another big project in my quest to run an ultra through each of America’s National Parks, my 13th National Park Ultra to date. As I climbed the last few stairs up to the trail head I was met by Ben, Adam, Amanda and baby Odessa. A few last photos, and my 8hour 40min journey across and through Arches National Park had been a success.
Descending into Park Avenue, home stretch!
At the finish of my Arches NP Ultra, 30miles and 8h40min later!
Arches may not have the big sweeping vistas one finds in the mountainous national parks, but its got all the subtle mystery and wonder of the desert, plus the grandeur of the massive stone arches and rock formations around every corner of the park. It’s truly a unique park, and holds its own spot within the National Parks system. The run was far more difficult than the 30miles and 3000ft of elevation gain my GPS recorded, primarily owing to many miles of sand. The nice thing about Arches is that it’s a part that’s runnable year round, and while there may not be an extensive trail system there opportunities for running off trail are almost endless. Special thanks to Adam, Ben, Amanda and baby Odessa for indulging my wild run creations (and putting up with the hot sandy desert), Vfuel for keeping me fueled on long adventures and our National Parks system for keeping places like Arches preserved so that all of us have a chance to experience them in our own way, now and in the future. Protect our public lands, support the parks and treat them like the special places they are.
Recovery day of rappelling and canyoneering.
Adam rapping down out of U-turn canyon, its a long way.
Why do I sign-up for these stupid things? This thought circled through my mind on repeat as I slowly trudged up the fully sun exposed douche grade dirt road on Guaje ridge. I had felt so wonderful only a few miles before, running smoothly, taking in the scenery and just enjoying the morning, but as all too often happens in ultra running things can change dramatically in just a few miles. The question is, how do you deal with adversity, it doesn’t always get worse…..does it?
While I don’t race much I’ll admit sometimes its nice to have a big goal on the calendar to motivate one to get out and run, especially in the early season before the mountains open up. So when the opportunity arose to make a trip back to New Mexico to run the Jemez 50miler I thought it would be a great chance to visit a new place, explore some new trails, and to force myself to train a bit more. So while training went pretty well; 44miles in the Grand Canyon and 32miles in Moab plus others, I definitely didn’t do much race planning, which left me scrambling for a ride down and place to stay. After working out those last minute logistics, I hopped in a car with Dave and Mike on Friday afternoon before the race and we booked it straight to check-in in Los Alamos. After grabbing our race bibs and a short stroll around town we were off to bed for our 4am wake-up call.
The gear is all laid out for race day.
The race start was one of the most casual I’ve been at, I was still strapping on my watch when Bill (RD) yelled go, oh shit, better start running. The pace set off a bit quicker than I’d have liked, but with the amount of dust getting kicked up I didn’t want to hang too far back for fear of setting off my asthma. So on ahead I charged into the darkness, just cruising along. As we began the climb up Guaje Ridge the morning light allowed us all to ditch our headlamps and simply enjoy the slow uphill grind in the cool morning air, though we all knew the heat was coming. I felt great in the cool morning air, making very quick work of the first 15miles to the ski lodge.
First glimpse of the sun over the Jemez Mountains, time to run and hide.
Climbing up Guaje Ridge.
While most people seemed to be dreading the steep climb through the Pajarito ski resort, I was excited for something I knew I wouldn’t be running. I put my hands on my knees and do what I do best, power hiked the shit out of it. I reached the summit in no time, switched back into downhill mode and found a happy pace on the long downhill to Camp May AS (mm22). At Camp May the temps were just beginning to warmup, but I pushed on, attempting to bank some miles before it got really hot. Quemazon (mm27) began my slow unraveling. I was doing a poor job of taking care of myself in the heat, and it was catching up to me. I began to feel lethargic, a little light headed, dry mouth and just out of sorts. While I was continually drinking and trying to cool off, it obviously wasn’t enough.
Up up and away through the Pajarito Ski area.
I held it together through Rendija (mm30), but had a complete meltdown as I trudged up into the heat of Guaje Ridge for the second time. The constant sun exposure, warming temps and stagnant air just crushed my energy and slowed me to a trudge. I mustered up a slow shuffle every once and a while, but it was mostly an 8mi death march up to the Pipeline turnoff. By then the shade of a few pine trees, coupled with my increased hydration and a slight breeze began to normalize my core temp, and I was able to jog my way down to the LA Canyon AS (mm40) where I promptly sat down, determined to fix my shit before leaving.
Gettin hot in herr, climbing back up Guaje Ridge on the second loop, oh so hot and sunny.
Feel like I’m about to meltdown in the sun.
I’ve never been great in the heat, but have found that I can tolerate it if I carefully manage my core temp. After downing a bottle of ice water and a few pieces of salted watermelon Blake Wood offered to douse me with a pitcher of water and fill my hat with ice, that did the trick. I was finally cooled off and I could feel the pop flowing back into my legs. I ran all the way back down to the Quemazon AS with a renewed determination to finish strong. I quickly filled my bottles, drenched myself and took off on the hot dusty trail toward the finish. At the final AS (Rendija mm47) I had them throw a pitcher of water on me and pushed hard for the finish. I hadn’t been eating much for the past 3hours and knew I was running on borrowed time. As I approached the final rolling mile my energy level began to suffer from lack of calories, but now it was just mental….keep on pushing, almost done. As I crested the final steep climb the finish chute came into view and I jogged on across, 9:49, not what I’d hoped for, but a time I’m satisfied with considering how up and down my race was. All I wanted now was something cold to drink (ended up drinking 3 bottles in 30min) and to stop moving. 2hours after finishing, we crammed back into our car and drove off for Colorado, cramping, sore muscles and all (last thing I wanted to do).
Recovery after a hot race should always include a slush puppie/slurpie.
The Jemez 50mile (alternate course), lived up to its billing as a interesting but tough route. With a good mix of runnable terrain and some steeps thrown in for good measure, it kept one guessing. And while my day didn’t go very smoothly, the race was superbly run and all the aid station volunteers were wonderful. It was unfortunate that this year we weren’t able to run the normal course through the Caldera, but with the extreme fire restrictions it was nice that we were able to run at all. Highly recommend the race and the area to anyone looking for an early season mountain adventure, especially if you’re the kind of person who likes a little heat. Thanks to Vfuel for keeping me fueled up all race long, all the volunteers and organizers at the race and to my fellow runners whom I slogged along with all day. Run fast, run healthy, but most importantly run happy.
