100 mile races confront runners with challenges that need to be overcome in order to achieve goal #1 of finishing, but the problems I had completing my first 100 last year in
The Bighorn left me wondering what could have been, had I not been battling injury and lots of pain for many miles. That experience provided a good lesson in what it takes to finish one of these events.
I'm proud of what I was able to accomplish in the inaugural running of the
High Lonesome 100 on July 28-29, 2017. Coming in 10th place was surprising and I was very happy to finish this extremely challenging course in just under 28 hours. If you're interested in all of the statistics, click on the Strava link below, but
here's a beautiful satellite view of the course from Relive.cc.
As always, I could not have done this without Jennifer, and I think this time, I got an even bigger boost from her. We just had a blast of a weekend together. Starting with camping out the night before the race, I always get a kick out of how excited she gets when we break out the tent. She made me a pre-race meal of - get this - Chana Masala rice OVER mashed potatoes. Folks, don't try this at home when not topping off your glycogen stores (and then some) in advance of a big physical exertion!
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| White Carb Loading |
We had a fun, light Thursday before the 6:00am Friday start. At the start, she told me how much she loved me and I just felt loose, happy and carefree. And for the remainder of the race, she just knew when to let me have fun when I was having fun and pieced me back together with nutrition and precisely the right words to set my mind back into a determined state when it was wavering. After 27 years together I love this woman and am so proud of our team efforts. We're Team Kick Ass to each other.
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| Notes I Found In My Food Bags |
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| TKA |
Start to Antero Aid - Miles 0 to 16.7
At 6:00am the Race Director (RD), Caleb, fired the gun to begin the adventure in a high field at the base of Mt. Princeton.
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| Caleb Contemplating The Start - Or Opening the Complaints Dept. Not Sure. |
The first couple miles are on perfectly smooth pavement, but the entire field managed to negotiate this difficulty pretty smoothly.
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| Unfamiliar Footing, but All Came Through Un-Scathed |
I BS'ed with a few others and noted that it must be a pretty experienced group, as the energy was nice and controlled. I hate a high energy start and try to separate myself from it, but no need this time. In hindsight, it's pretty perfect to be on wide roads for the first few miles to let the field spread out a bit before we hit singletrack and it becomes a bit more complicated to pass or be passed. Fortunately, by the time we got to the singletrack for for the first 1000' climb, I didn't have to do much of either.
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| 3 Miles Down! |
Great start and soon enough, I saw Jenn at the Raspberry Gulch Aid. I also saw Caleb up close and personal and almost ran over him. No harm, no foul. Smack on the back to Caleb, quick refuel, water and kisses from Jenn and 3 minutes later, I was off and feeling great. Only 93 miles to go!!
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| Coming Down into Raspberry Gulch Aid |
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| Almost Crashing into the RD |
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| Feeling Good |
I was very fortunate to have done training on some key sections of the course in the preceding weeks and on the next section, up the Little Brown's Creek Trail to the high point of the course at the gorgeous 13,000' saddle between Mts. Antero and White, I knew exactly what to expect. That's a meaningful benefit when you know the terrain and where the top is. Plus, I knew the altitude wouldn't be an issue for me. It can be a problem for those coming from lower elevations.
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| Up Little Brown's Creek to Antero Saddle - Mt White Above |
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| Approaching the Mts White / Antero Saddle |
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Topping out with Dave Golden - Photo by Elizabeth Sasseman
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At the Antero Aid Station I had fun learning a new term from one of the super helpful young ladies running the aid station...Douche Climbs. I'd understand exactly what they are in the last 30 miles or so...climbs that don't look like much on your maps, but just kick the living crap out of you when you're down and out in the dark of the night and trying to move forward on tired legs. Ultra fun!
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| Descending the Jeep Roads Just Above Antero Aid |
Antero to St. Elmo, Cottonwood Out and Back - Miles 16.7 to 37.3
During the climb, then down the jeep roads on the other side of Antero, all the way to St. Elmo, I enjoyed the company of some great guys. Young Ben Dhiman from Silverton, who ended up finishing 4th, my Canuck friend Chris Mackey finished just ahead of me in the 9th spot accepted my humor of both making fun of and appreciation of our neighbors to the north and Dave from Durango (11th place) with whom I'd bungee back and forth all race. It was a particularly fun segment and, as it turned out, the only dry one. As I came upon the only major stream crossing of the course, I thought I remembered someone saying that big rocks had been strategically placed as perfect steps to cross without getting wet. I noticed nothing of the sort and went right through the knee-deep water. I actually took a picture of this spot to show Jenn, since we have memories of a painfully cold crossing here when we climbed Mt. Antero back in 2010. Maybe I missed something here on the right. Ya think?
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| Damned If I Can See any Perfectly Placed Rocks to Cross On - You See Anything? |
Further down the road, I was able to do my good deed of the day and pick up Dave's rain shell and Jenn got it to his girlfriend at St. Elmo. I ran into him on the Cottonwood out-and-back and he was so relieved it was found. I was really happy I was able to help him out, as I'm sure he was really stressed about it for a while. Ben, Chris and I continued through the small town of Alpine at the base of Antero and I was tickled that a few dozen people had come out to cheer us on. Really cool! As far as I can tell it's mostly just ATVs that pass through there. Just before reaching St. Elmo at about 3.5 hrs in, the rain began to fall. It didn't stop much from that point on. But really, it didn't bother me much. Footing remained pretty good, with only a few sections of ankle-deep mud that threatened to pull my shoes off, it didn't get below 40F, winds weren't an issue below 11,000' and most importantly, the storms didn't go electric, for the most part.
After a 6 minute stop, refuel with I think my second Red Bull and kiss in St. Elmo, I was headed out on the only out-and-back of the course, 2000' up and over a pass, down to Cottonwood Creek Aid, then back up 2000' and down to see Jenn again at St. Elmo. This 13 mile out-and-back was nice because it gives runners our only opportunity to see the leaders as they head back in the opposite direction, but also the rest of the field and you can gauge where you are in the pack.
Mile 90 Photography had two photographers out on the course taking beautiful photos. I've never had this before. Here are a few by Jordan Chapell from the climb up the pass.
I figured I was around 11th or so at that point. Wow! I've never been so bouncy on a course, but I was just having fun. When I got to Cottonwood Aid, things got even better! None other than
Blake Wood, finisher of 21 Hardrock 100s, President of the Board of Directors of the HR100, one of the originators of Nolan's 14 and finisher, and really smart dude, took care of refilling my hydration bladder. Blake, if you're reading this, sorry if I was yelling in your face and pointing too much, but that was really cool! A final word about the Cottonwood Aid...!!
PIEROGIS!! I stuffed all I could in my face and grabbed the rest for the way back up the hill. Everyone who came down as I was going up heard about the pierogis that hopefully would be awaiting them at the bottom.
St. Elmo to Hancock - Miles 37.3 to 48.8
I arrived back into St. Elmo 3hrs 10min after I'd left and after refueling (chocolate croissant!) and kisses and 7 minutes at 3:11pm, I was off again with a full 2 liters of water on my back and my poles for the next 12 mile section.
Up the jeep road I mostly hiked, past the unmanned Tin Cup water stop and out on a beautiful section of the Continental Divide Trail (CDT).
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| Beautiful Stretch of the CDT |
This is a section I ran overnight a few weeks earlier as my last big training run. Definitely worth repeating. You don't run into too many people, other than the occasional CDT thru or section-hiker back there between a bunch of 12 and 13,000' peaks. The field really spread out from here on, as well. I went to my music for the first time.
Just under 3 hours later, I rolled into the halfway point at the Hancock ghost town site and Jennifer's kisses and care. As always, she takes care of everything. In this spot, she got my mandatory nighttime gear check done without delaying me at all. As I've said, she is my secret weapon!
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| Hancock Aid - Mile 48.8 |
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| Rolling into Hancock |
I was surprised to see some runners who I knew were ahead of me sitting under the tent as I downed a 5 Hour Energy and a tofurkey, swiss cheese and mustard wrap. 11 minutes after arriving I was off, but not after resisting Jenn's correct insistence that I replace my hat with a Buff and put my headlamp on. Smartly, I fell into line and did as told and was off into the approaching night at 6:20pm, amazingly in 6th place - I didn't know at the time, but WAIT, WHAT?!?! 12:20 after starting and feeling great with Judas Priest
You Got Another thing Comin' maxed in my headphones. I might have replayed it 4 times in a row.
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| Heading Out in into the Approaching Night |
As the sun set, it really started to rain heavily, so I put on my hard shell for the first time. I'd keep it on most of the rest of the night. This next section is the crux of the course. Lonely, dark and multiple big climbs. It's a place where it's totally understandable for anyone without experience in a high alpine environment alone to get a little freaked out. Throw in cold, wind, rain, fog and technical footing up on the 12,000' ridge we traverse approaching Monarch Pass and it's a recipe to dampen a party mood. It did mine. Ideally, I would've stopped, put on a layer and gloves and stuffed my poles in my pack, but I knew that I'd go hypothermic almost immediately if I stopped. I wasn't comfortable, but my core didn't get too cold and I prioritized keeping my hands functional. Losing usability of my hands would be dangerous, as I would lose ability to adjust zippers, tie shoes, feed myself should I get injured and have to stop.
Monarch to Blanks - Miles 66.6 to 82
Just after midnight, in the fog and rain, I was escorted by a gentleman in glowing blue Devil's horns across Rt 50 at Monarch Pass at mile 66.6. I recall making some reference to Running with the Devil and maybe one or two other Satan references and I'm pretty sure I offered an apology for my foul mouth for the second time in the race. The Devil was cool with my language. I told him I'm from Jersey originally.
Jenn was waiting for me and put me in the passenger seat of the Jeep. She knew immediately that we'd left the fun part of the activity and were embarking on the hard stuff.
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| Accurate Depiction of How I Felt Arriving at Monarch - Cold, Wet, Fatigued |
I changed my shoes and socks and put a fresh coating of Trail Toes lube on my toes and heels, got bundled up, and Jenn cooked up some noodle soup on the JetBoil and we went over to the aid tent.
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| Dazed, but Ready to Push On |
Daisy Clark, who took expert care of me way back at the Antero Aid was here again and gave me a good looking over to make sure I was OK and good to go on. I didn't realize at the time, but she's a registered nurse. Makes total sense. Anyway, I was in good shape, so after 26 minutes in the Monarch aid station, I was off, down Satan's Slip N Slide as the RD liked to call it to the Fooses Creek Aid about 5 miles away.
Fortunately, Satan's Slip N Slide wasn't too slippery or slidy, but it was steep with some rutted trail, which made for difficult footing. With fatigued quads the descent was slow for me and even when it leveled out a bit, the trail was rutted and rocky and forced me to walk more than I wanted. I rolled my right ankle, which wasn't bad, and then I rolled my left, which was worse. The pain stuck with me a while as I walked it off in the rain, fog and night. I got the High part of the race done, now I was entering the lower, but Lonesome part. I limped into the Fooses Creek aid, the fantastic aid volunteers refilled my bladder, gave me hot broth, I think some chips and I was off into the night toward the Blanks Cabin Aid and my next rendezvous with Jennifer a little over 10 loooong miles away.
This could be officially called the Douche Hills section. The overall climb to Blanks doesn't look like much on the map, but it's just constant little ups and downs and often the footing is rough. On fresh legs, much of this would likely be runnable, but not 70+ miles in and in the dark, for me, anyway. It was during this section that I got passed repeatedly by guys I'd been with earlier with pacers and they were chugging along. This was frustrating, but I did keep consistently moving forward and the dark miles slowly clicked by.
Just before arriving at the Blanks Cabin Aid, I was confronted with about 58 green lights blocking the trail. I haven't been prone to hallucinations on night runs, but what the heck was this? Then I realized I had been hearing nearby cow calls of two groups of the herd vocalizing to each other. COWS! Big Black Cows! Lots of 'em! Lots of little ones too, and one really big one right in the middle of the trail. Concluding that was the bull (no horns, but BIG), I stopped, took one step back into a huge fresh cow patty, eased behind a tree and started talking sweet to them for several minutes. "Niiice cows...gooood cows and bull...You know, I haven't eaten your kind for over a decade now...niiice cows". This was me on this day in the total darkness, by myself at probably 4:30 in the morning, 80+ miles in, up for about 25 hours now, hiding behind an 8" wide tree, sweet-talking to a good number of ungulates, in the rain. Making memories, I suppose. Then the "bull" moved out of the trail. I eased by safely and made my way into the aid less about a mile away. Scared the crap out of me, but definitely broke any monotony of that long night.
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| Blanks Aid at an Ungodly Hour |
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| Coming into Blanks Fresh off the Satanic Cows Experience |
Jennifer sat me down, told me she was proud of me, refilled my water and food and talked me out of the dark place I'd lapsed into. I was convinced I was doing horribly and just moving way too slow. My mind was not calculating numbers properly (it's generally advisable to not engage in math in ultra distance events, but by yourself in the dark for many hours, the mind does things) and I was perceiving a real possibility that I would not be finishing much faster than my 30:40 at the Bighorn 100 last year when I was injured. Was I just kidding myself that I could do better? I also love to impress Jenn and I had in my mind that I'd be letting her down in some way. The things she said to me here started to bring me out of this darkness, but I still had a long way to go on multiple levels.
I think I got some broth from yet another in the string of great aid station volunteers and after 11 minutes at 5:34am, I was off again with a kiss on the unfathomably distant almost 10 miles to the last aid station, once again at Raspberry Gulch.
Blanks to Finish - Miles 82 - 97.8, but Let's Call it 100
Strategy going into the race was to be easy on my body the first 60+ miles and 80% of climbing to Monarch. Then hopefully, have enough in the tank and not be too beat-up to finish strong. I think the first 66.6 miles went according to plan, 66.7 to 91.7 didn't quite live up to expectations, but I do feel I did finished strong.
Morning twilight was supposed to begin around 5:40 and sunrise right around 6:10am. Well, the much anticipated sunrise didn't happen this day. The rain clouds made sure of that. I did come across 4 young women out for a hike in the rain at that early hour and they did get treated to a beautiful orange and red ribbon at the horizon, but that's all the sun could muster this morning. If I looked like I was on the miserable side of mile 85, they didn't let on and just continued on with their giddy enjoyment of this murky morning. I can't figure out what the heck they were doing out there.
The miles clicked off as the trail was a bit smoother here, enabling me to settle into a sustainable trot for most of the way and log some respectable mile splits considering where I was in the race. Even if the sun didn't rise on this day, it was still a somewhat uplifting milestone to be able to see by ambient light and turn off my headlamp. Raspberry Gulch Aid mercifully came a little earlier than I'd expected and as always, Jennifer was out in the middle of the trail in her red rain jacket, waving me in. Such an awesome sight every time and at these stages, I get physically emotional to see her. I've gotten better in controlling it and most of the time I'm able to will my throat to not close up like it used to.
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| Emerging from the Depths of Darkness and into Raspberry Gulch Aid |
In the 4 minutes I stopped at the aid, Jenn shoved two small pieces of one of her "cookie dough" energy concoctions (she has a repertoire of at least 8 different homemade energy snacks that she makes for me) in my mouth and set my intention for the last 7 or so miles. "
Go finish this in a way YOU'LL be proud of!"
I didn't know how it would happen, but I was inspired seeing a fellow runner and his pacer climbing the hill just a few hundred yards in front of me. I thought he was so much fresher than me the way he'd passed me a few miles back, but obviously he didn't just sprint to the finish, as I hobbled along, as I'd been imagining. The hill was my savior. I'm not a fast runner and not the best descender, but I can climb. So I did and I passed my friend, telling him that I'll probably see him again on the descent. But I didn't. I didn't see anyone as I made it back to the road as the skies opened up again. The pouring rain didn't bother me at all, as I made it first to the smooth dirt road and then the paved road and the final climb back up to the start/finish line. I ran, like I was not able to in the final 5 miles of Bighorn and MAN! There are few feelings better than finishing! Finishing means you can STOP and sit down and laugh again and just BE THANKFUL! So Thankful for what you've accomplished and for those who love and support you and all of the wonderful people who volunteer to help you do these silly things that can make you really feel so much of what's wonderful, painful, primal about being alive! The following photos are from Mile 90 Photography and are of utter joy and gratitude!
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| TKA at the Finish |
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| B&W Photo Op with the RD & Jenn |
The Aftermath
I physically feel like crap immediately after finishing. Can't eat much, can't do much of anything. Finish line accoutrements were outstanding, like I've never seen before. Bottomless quesadillas, hot water bottles, down blankets, chairs, whiskey - what else could you ask for? Thank you Kelly!
Seeing my winnings below, you can surely now understand why this is all worth it. Right? All makes sense now...right...doesn't it?
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| Custom Buckle |
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| Custom Bourbon |
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| Hugs with the RD |
Jenn, who also was up as long as I was, and I drove home late that Saturday morning and I slept for about 4 hours that afternoon, and then got an awesome night's sleep, until 4am when the hunger of a 17,000 calorie activity hit. 3 hours until the breakfast place opens! In the meantime, I woke Jenn up and we started our process of reliving and sharing our experience. This goes on for days or weeks. At 7am, we walked into
Bread + Salt in Frisco and ordered 4 breakfasts. We had to put food on the chairs when we ran out of space on the table. I was a little disappointed that I left half of one pancake, but damn, it's good to earn a hunger like that and then satisfy it!
Recovery has been amazingly quick. I'm usually able to descend stairs without the assistance of railings or walls by Wednesday, but after the Bighorn last June, I was in a walking boot for 2 weeks. So, I was a bit concerned when departure for my business trip got moved from Wednesday to Tuesday the week following the High Lonesome. Fortunately, I was showing off to Jenn by Monday that I could go up and down stairs unassisted. Things I did differently this time were - firstly, not getting injured. I also incorporated taking Arnica (a homeopathinc anti-inflammatory) tablets before and after the event, thanks to the generous advice from ultra legend, Kirk Apt, using topic Arnica gel on my sore mucles and immediately after finishing, getting Gnarly Vegan Feast and Block Chain Amino Acids (BCAA) into my gut.
I am unequivocally proud of our teamwork that enabled me to finish in an official 27hrs 56min 36 sec. A few days later, I realized that the spreadsheet we'd put together that tracks a bunch of data, including my estimated fastest and slowest times for each segment, and thereby rolling up to estimated finishing times, had my optimistic finishing time as 27hrs 53 min!
No blisters this time, thanks to DryMax socks and Trail Toes.
I can't thank Caleb and all of the volunteers enough for running this race so smoothly and taking such great care of all of us runners. This was the first year of the race and it couldn't have been smoother. Incredible work! The High Lonesome 100 is a top-notch addition to the Mountain Ultra Trail (MUT) scene and I anticipate it will become quite popular in the years to come.
That's it for this season as far as athletic challenges. The rest of the season, we'll be out hiking and camping as much as time allows!
Thanks for reading!
