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25 2013 San Diego 100: A Burner

First steps of the 2013 San Diego 100 Miler. Photo: Jeff Johnson

What a tough race. A heat wave hit the mountains for a 48-hour period during the heart of the race to create one of the lower 100-mile finish rates in the past few decades  — 45%. In contrast, San Diego 100 usually has nearly a 70% finisher rate. Conditions with the heat and the exposure — a large chunk of the race being at 5,000-6,000 feet with no shade — made for a very challenging day.

cipro Lurasidone 40mg The Course

Stonewall Peak at sunset. Photo: Stephanie Helguera Plomarity

The course is about 50 miles inland from San Diego with approximately 15,800 feet of climbing at elevations ranging from 4,000-6,000 feet. The terrain is rocky, exposed with very little shade for a majority of the race. The course’s main vain is on the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail) and other trails the spur off the PCT. Temperatures tend to be in the high 80s to low 90s with higher temps in Noble Canyon (mile 25-44). This year’s heat wave made sure those “norms” were not the case. It was a scorcher.

where to buy Latuda online The Race

At 7am sharp, we were off from Al Bahr Campground and Bandit (aka Rod Bien) took it out at a pretty healthy clip. First mile was 7:15 pace. I told Rod, “I’ve been worried about Dave (Mackey) taking it out hard, when all along it’s you I should worry about.” A little surprised by his fast pace, I gave Rod a little space, took it back one notch and settled into running behind him about 50-60 yards and Dave doing the same behind me. This stayed status quo into the first aid station at 7.5 miles with Rod gapping Dave and I a bit, as he kept on the slightly quicker pace. My split into Meadows Aid Station was 54 minutes (5 minutes faster than last year). WAY too fast. This had me pace check myself leaving the aid station. We left in the same order and off down the trail. Dave caught up to me and we ran together chatting about mountain biking. We could still see Rod on longer, open sections, but he was definitely still putting time on us every mile.

Just after race morning check-in. Photo: Jeff Johnson

Dave seemed antsy with Rod pulling away, so when we hit some double track, Dave pulled up next to me and took the lead on a mellow climb. We had pretty much quit chatting at this point and as we went into a series of little grunt ups, I quit trying to run Dave’s pace, as it felt like he’d picked it up a bit. I figured he was itching to go after Rod. So, I settled into a more comfortable early pace and took a deep breath. I felt like the race had now sorted the 3 of us out and this evening we’d see where we were. We were only 10 miles in and I felt the heat hitting and didn’t want to push too much too early. After letting Dave mentally go, I relaxed and just concentrated on taking care of myself and not racing yet.

We soon came into Red Tail Roost Aid at 13 miles with Rod, Dave and I about a minute apart. Still ahead of last year’s splits. Josh Nordell was there and gave me some words of encouragement. I just gave him a “mellow, it’s early” comment. More to verbalize this to myself than to him. This was my mental reminder over the next few miles as I ran down the double track to pick up the trail and run the PCT to Todd’s Cabin.

I got into Todd’s aid and they told me Dave had taken the lead by 1 minute and Rod was 4 minutes in front of me. I was still over 5 minutes up on last year’s splits and it was much hotter, which meant they were 9 and 10 minutes ahead of my course record pace from last year. I felt like we were pushing too hard for this early. And, to reinforce this, a little mental math also told me that Dave had run the last section over a minute a mile faster than me and Rod about 40 seconds a mile faster. It being a 100 miler, this is where I really had to trust my own pacing and not get caught up in racing. I felt like I was moving well and if I went faster, I’d be pushing too hard. Hopefully those guys were pushing too hard. Time would tell.

7am start...and we're off. Photo: Jeff Johnson

Leaving Meadows Aid Station (mile 7.4). Patagonia Teammate Keira Henninger handing off fresh bottles. Photo: Jeff Johnson

Getting close to the 3rd aid station, Penny Pines, There is a sweeping switchback and the trail backtracks up a ravine then back up another bare ridge where you can see the trail across the ravine well ahead of yourself. I happened to catch a glimpse of Mackey climbing. I made a quick watch check and a mental note of where he was. When I arrived at that spot, he was about 9 minutes ahead of me. Still going faster and it was getting hot.

I arrived Penny Pines (23.6 miles) still ahead of course record (CR) splits, got into my drop bag, new gels and was off with Mackey up 10 minutes and Rod up 9. The next section was where the heat hit hard. It’s a long downhill into Noble Canyon that gets increasingly more rocky, technical and more hot. When I got 2/3 of the way down, I passed some hikers at a creek crossing where I was stopping and dunking my hat and taking the time to get my shoulders, neck, and quads wet before leaving. They told me Rod was only a couple minutes in front of me. Early hot pace was catching up to him looked like. I was carrying two 24 ouncers and I was draining them by every aid station.

When we were just about a 1/2 mile from Pine Creek aid station (mile 30) I saw Rod ahead. He was in the aid station when I arrived. I had been rationing water for about the last mile or two but had not run out. Rod said he’d run out of water and looked at me, “you?” I said, “No, but it’s really freakin’ hot.” With that, we both went to the task of getting ourselves taken care of. This would be the last I saw of Rod, he had a rough time in the heat and his stomach went south and was throwing up. He dropped at Sunrise 1 (mile 51.3) — his first DNF ever in over 80 ultras. My heart goes out to him on that one. Rod is a fierce competitor and I really, really respect that dude. He’s a stud and hated to see it get that bad for him. He had a stellar and commanding PCT 50 miler a month ago where he crushed the course record.

Volunteers sponged cold water over my quads, neck, shoulders and head while I chugged 3 glasses of Gu Brew and got moving again for the hot 4.5 mile loop back to the same aid station in a very toasty Noble Canyon (NOTE: temperature reports were varying, but Noble Canyon reports were anywhere from 101 to 107 at the aid station. I would wager hotter pockets existed on the 4.5 mile section we loop, especially on the south facing side of the butte the course loops around).

This section I ran in just over 43 minutes last year and it was probably 15 degrees cooler. I felt I was moving pretty well and sure enough, came through this split 3 minutes faster than last year. I arrived back to Pine Creek just finishing my bottles and got really cooled down with the help of volunteers. I chugged water, ate a banana, and left with ice in my hat to grind out the 8-mile, 2,200 foot climb back up to the PCT.

I got moving up the old single lane paved road with some hiking and running transitions and let all the liquid I chugged settling in. About a mile up the road there is a bee hive in the base of an old dead tree right on the edge of the road. I was skirting that side of the road trying to grab any tiny bit of shade I possibly could get when I walked within 2 feet of the hive. I was immediately swarmed with at least a dozen bees. I started running up the road swatting bees away. Once I was a good distance, they gave up the chase only to be stung — BAM — by a single bee another mile up the road, right in the middle of my back.

I shook it off and was almost out of water 2 miles up the road when I hit the water/popsicle minimal aid station. Filled bottles, grabbed a mango popsicle and started up the road. I kept plugging away and soon was getting close to Pioneer Mail aid to pick the PCT back up. Hard climb in the exposed sun and heat. I was again rationing water the last 2 miles.

Arriving Pioneer Mail Aid station (mile 44.1), after the gnarly heat of Noble Canyon. Jesse Haynes ready to give me water to chug and swap fresh handheld Ultraspire bottles. Photo: Jeff Johnson

I arrived Pioneer Mail at mile 44.1, 19 minutes behind Dave. My crew said Dave was looking hammered and weaving. I was hot, but felt like I had got through the crazy heat in semi-one-piece. I knew Dave’s style and he likes to push it and was sure he’d keep putting time on me through through halfway, then I’d hopefully be able to start closing that gap. I got my core temps cooled down and drank a ton of water, I ran the next stretch to Sunrise aid 1 minute slower than last year. It was hot for sure at this point. I was just getting close when I had some hikers tell me Dave was 28 minutes ahead. Dang. he’d run that section pretty fast. But, my crew said he’d arrived and sat for 10 minutes and I’d only been there less than 3. So, he’d only really gained another 3 or 4 minutes on me…a little more than 20 minutes ahead, not 28. Manageable.

Arriving Sunrise 1 Aid Station (mile 51.3). Photo: Jeff Johnson

Jugging water at Sunrise Aid. I drank nearly 60 ounces of water at this checkpoint. And volunteers worked hard to get me cooled down. Photo: Jeff Johnson

Sunrise Aid Station at a little over halfway mark. Hot. Trying to get cooled down. Just chugged A LOT of water. Photo: Jeff Johnson

I took time to really cool down, left with a bandana with ice (thanks to Patagonia Teammate Denise Bourassa). The next section was REALLY hot as you run toward Lake Cuyamaca into the afternoon sun with absolutely no shade. I kept plugging along and focusing on taking care of myself. Again, rationing water the last few miles.

I was looking forward to hitting the the climb up Stonewall peak, after Stonewall Mine aid station. It’s the first spot you start to get a little tree cover, albeit sporadic. I got into Stonewall Mine Aid station (mile 58) to find out that Dave had taken a wrong turn at the main intersection of the start of the 29 mile northern loop just after the last aid station. This really surprised me. A veteran like Dave taking a wrong turn at a key spot on the course. It was marked well, with at least 4 or 5 ribbons and chalk dots on the ground. Not sure how he blew through it. Bummer for Dave.

I would like to give the course marking folks a little credit. It was marked. Brett Rivers — who ended up in 2nd place — confirmed it was well marked too. This was before they went out and “over” marked it. A good to reminder to everyone. This is a very important part of running 100 mile trail races. Not only studying the course to know key intersections, but also stopping at intersections to make sure you make a good choice and go the right way. Making good decisions, course recon (via in person or via map) is essential.

I spent the next section over Stonewall Peak just really going slow, I hiked most of the climb and ran the down at a mellow pace in kind of a distracted mental state, reflecting on how bummed I was for Dave and the fact that I wasn’t getting a chance to beat him fair and square. I’d held back in the heat and was ready to roll on this 29 mile loop and had started to see him come back to me at the last checkpoint. So it goes.

Arriving Paso Picacho Aid Station (mile 64.2). Photo: Jeff Johnson

Ice water on the quads at Paso Aid Station. Photo: Jeff Johnson

I arrived Paso aid station at mile 64 to a huge entourage. George, a good fried, Patagonia Team rep and crew master at last year’s race, was attempting his first 100. However, he had dropped early due to some stomach issues and was there to greet me with my crew. Awesome to see him. Scotty Mills (the RD) was there to ask me about course markings and I told him it was marked with chalk and ribbons. He seemed relieved. Knowing Scotty, he’ll OVER mark that spot next year. He also said Dave was making his way around the loop backwards.

I had some avocado, resupplied my gels, and got headed for Sweetwater. About a mile out of Sweetwater (about halfway around the loop) I ran into Dave coming the other way. I apologized to him and gave him a hug. As I jogged off, I stopped, looked back and asked “Rematch at Run Rabbit Run?” Hopefully he’ll take me up on it. I really meant it. He’s a good guy and I was bummed he took a wrong turn.

Running into Sweetwater checkpoint in the evening, mile 72. Photo: Jeff Johnson

I cruised along the next section still reflecting on Dave and that situation. I guess I ran that section okay, even though I felt like I wasn’t pushing at all. I ran 3 minutes slower than last year (where I felt like I was really pushing that section). At sweetwater, I sat down to eat. The only place I sat all day. It really mirrored my mental state. With Dave out, I was not pushing at all. I was just cruising along, finding reasons to take walk breaks and generally not having my head in the race. Enter George…

He bends down as I’m eating, looks me square in the eyes and tells me Brett gained 10 minutes on me on the last section and was in and out in less than a minute at Paso looking very good and very focused. He later told me my entire countenance changed at that moment and saw complete focus. I immediately got up and left and proceeded to run 85% of the next 8-mile climb back up to Sunrise 2 aid station. 5 minutes faster than last year.

I arrived mile 80 at Sunrise 2 at 8:11pm, at dusk. I got my lights, soup, new bottles and gels and was out of there with Jesse pacing me the last 20. He’s only the 3rd pacer I’ve had in fifteen hundreds, but he wanted get in a long night run so I was fine with having some company. We ran really hard until we had to turn on lights. I told Jesse at this point, we should have a good enough lead on Brett to just cruise it in. My quads were sore from fighting some form of dehydration on and off all day and were more tender than normal at this point in a 100. I knew from the last 10 minutes of going hard I could bring it if I had to, but wanted to save my legs and coast it in. He said cool and we silently cruised with me in front. The rest of the run was pretty uneventful besides a couple of good wildlife encounters.

Leaving Sunrise 2 Aid Station with lights on, ready to head into the night. 20 miles to go. Photo: Jeff Johnson

On the way to Pioneer Mail 2 on the PCT, we stopped to check out a huge Tarantula on the trail that went down a hole in the middle of the trail. Then, at mile 97 a skunk jumped onto the trail in front of us running down the trail about 20-30 yards in front of us. Jesse jumped in front of me and tried to scare it off the trail. It wouldn’t budge, just kept running down the trail. It’s a section of tall grass and shrubs and every time the skunk would run around a bend in the trail, we’d slow to a hike. Jesse would peer around the corner, then wave me to proceed. This went of for a 1/4 mile, until we hit a double track section and he threw a rock at it and it hissed and ran off the road so we could run by (fast).

Then, less than a mile later, we were traversing the meadow in the trees when I caught movement in my light to my left. I looked over just in time to catch a long brown animal on top of a big granite boulder jump down and look at me—green eyes. Cat. Brain processing…cougar! I yelled back to Jesse, cougar! He said, where?!” I yelled, “40 yards in the brush!” We were walking and looking and he caught it in his headlamp too. He yells, “I see it, I see it!” We started grunting loudly and making a bunch of noise as we hiked and Jesse picked up a large size rock. Just in case. I started running again and yelled back over my shoulder, “stop and check behind us every once in a while to make sure it isn’t tracking us!” He did and we didn’t have any other issues. I heard later that a cougar had been sighted in the campground the night before. This was less than a mile from the western edge of the campground, so I’m sure it was the same one.

We kept plugging away and I glanced at my watch to see that I had a shot at sneaking under 17 hours. I didn’t mention it to Jesse, but this was in my head, which helped me push a little through the last mile to the finish. We soon had the finish line in sight and I crossed the line in 16 hours, 59 minutes, 24 seconds for my 10th 100 mile win and 15th 100 mile finish. Hard but good day.

At the finish, a little girl came up and said in a cute little voice, “Congratulations.” I have a daughter about the same age and held my hand up for a high five. She kinda missed so I held my hand out to her level and asked her to “give me five.” She gave me a little slap and I said, “Oh come on, give me another!” She did but it was still a little weak cause she kinda missed. So, I said, “C’mon, ONE MORE TIME!” This time she had gained some confidence with practice and laid a hard SLAP on my hand. I said, “Ah YEAH!” and she walked away beaming. KIds are so cool, great way to end a 100 miler, connecting with a future little runner. Giddyup.

A little girl at the finish givin' me five. Photo: Jeff Johnson

Thanks

Big shout out to my wife and kids for all their love, prayer and support during the race and putting up with my training. I do try to minimize the impact on the family time as much as humanly possible and I appreciate their patience and understanding. Thank you, Jennifer. A special thanks to Patagonia and the decade of support they’ve given me…awesome pocketed shorts and some wickedly sweet shoes for this race…and the old school duck bill cap is back, baby! The gear is awesome. It’s an honor to represent such a responsible company. Big thanks to Keira Henninger and Jesse Haynes for crewing and Jesse for jumping into pace the last 20 miles.

Thanks to Rocho at Black Diamond for the stellar bright lights so I could get a good look at that cougar. Ultraspire for awesome handhelds and night time running would be a lot blurrier without Rudy Project glasses. Also, Barlean’s for the supplements. What a cool suite of products they have. Teague and all the folks at FootZone in Bend — if you’re in Bend, check out their new expanded space downtown. G5 for a long leash during the business day so I can live life. Mark DeJohn for the ART (Active Release Technique) and massage both pre- and post-race. Tracy at Ruby’s Lube (this stuff rocks the house, all natural anti-chafe balm…no gross, cancer-causing ingredients like all the other lubes out there), check it out. And, especially the Big Man upstairs for keeping my path safe, stink-free and avoiding being kitty dinner.

0 Spring 100 Mile Training — Staying Local

I’m traveling today and finally getting a deep breath to post. All in all, working on the new house, getting garden beds built and making a  house a home. Working full time, coaching, parenting 3 kids with my hardworking wife and training my rear off to get ready for San Diego 100. 34 hours to the start. Here’s a little look back at my spring.

March: Gorge Waterfalls 50k

After recovering and building mileage back up after Bandera 100k in January, I decided to stay close to home the beginning half of the spring and run local. A return to Rainshadow Running’s Gorge Waterfalls 50k was in order. This is such a beautiful race James puts on. Not only do you get a awesome sampling of the heart of the waterfalls that the Columbia River Gorge has to offer, it also boasts a deep field for a “low-key” race, great micro brews, bluegrass, and handmade pizzas at the finish line. Not to mention the weather was off-the-hook-stellar. 70s and bluebird skies. Unheard of this time of the year in the Gorge.

I went out easy with Patagonia teammate Ty Draney, who was coming from only snowshoeing and running in sub 20 degree snowy weather since the fall in Wyoming. 70s was feeling mighty hot for Ty and he slowed around 10 miles in, so I took it as an opportunity to pick up the pace a bit.

When we got to the out and back road section toward the turnaround, I had pretty good legs and picked a couple of guys off. I could see Hal Koerner ahead of me a minute or so and at the turnaround as I met Hal, he jokingly said, “What’d you do, turn into some kind of road runner?!” Ha. I yelled over my shoulder, “I’m coming to get you Koerner!” I grabbed my poker ship out of the bucket at the turnaround and soon popped off the trail, dropped my chip to a volunteer and took off down the road with the short term goal of reeling in GQ (aka Hal).

Hal doesn’t go down easy, so I put my head down and tried to hold a sub 6:30 pace. I had been doing some good long tempo workout and was even able to throw a 5:58 mile split in on the road. I gained ground, but he was still 30 seconds up when we hit the singletrack again. After a few short climbs and windy turns I finally caught him. Usually I can’t keep up with GQ in a 50k, but he’d been fighting a foot thing again. I feel for him, I hate when you’re fighting little stuff. I’ve had both PF and Morton’s Neuroma over the years. Not a fun thing to be dealing with. After catching Hal, I just kept rolling and soon picked off another guy. I ended up moving from 12th to 6th by the finish and taking the Master’s win.  Great trainer and good to hang out at the finish with Stephanie Howe, Zach, Hal, Ty, and Ian Sharman — whom I’ve trained  quite a few long runs this spring with before he moved back to the Bay Area.

Capped the Easter weekend off by staying at the Hood River Hotel with the family and hanging with my wife and kids in Hood River. Such a cool town and a gorgeous weekend to be enjoying the shorts weather.

Zion Nation Park

April: Patagonia Design Offsite, Rolled Ankle and Ultraspire Retreat

The week after Gorge, I headed to Portland for a design offsite with Patagonia to check out the Spring ‘14 line and talk design ideas for the future. It was a great 2-day session at the Ace Hotel geeking out on gear and hanging with the Patagonia design team and some of the Ultrarunning Team. Awesome and productive. I truly love supporting this responsible company.

After the design offsite, the plan was to train right up to Peterson Ridge Rumble 40 Miler in Sisters, OR and do a mini 4 or 5 day taper and use it as a build up for Ice Age 50 in May in Wisconsin. 2-days before the race, I was cruising in my neighborhood park  and was cruising on a buff section of trail while scouting a 1 mile trail loop for my kids to run (complete with quarter miles markers), when BAM stepped on the only rock on the trail while gawking and rolled my right ankle all the way to the side. I immediately hopped on one foot and knew it was a bad one — one that makes you sit down until your foot stops trembling. Sucked. I walked on it for about 10 minutes and it was ballooning. So, ice-backward treadmill hiking rehab regimen immediately, no Rumble 40. So it goes.

I have a pretty good rolled ankle rehab program, so I got to work on my ice-treadmill routine and had Mark DeJohn do some light work on it. 2 days after I walked 4 miles with no pain (gently), biked 5 days in a row, so no “endurance” days off and by 6 days, I was lightly jogging on a taped and still swollen ankle.

That Thursday (day 5) I was flying to St. George, UT for a design and testing retreat for Ultraspire in Zion National Park. I spent Friday hiking and jogging 8 miles, super mellow, and exploring a dome and a canyon with Speedgoat Karl. He’d just come off racing Lake Sonoma 50 miler Saturday before. Good to hang with the old goat as usual. We always have good times. Ankle was still visually swollen and purple below the ankle bone.

Day 2 I was able to run 3 times (morning, noon, and evening) — all 4 milers for 12 miles total. Ankle was coming around. I kept compression on it when not running and by Sunday Karl, Ashley Nordell, Scott Jaime and I ran an easy 15 miler to check out an arch. Ankle was fine on everything. Still had to go gentle on the downs, but swelling was lots better after all the running on it to flush out the fluid and bruising was gone.

After getting back, I kept training hard at Smith Rock to get ready for Ice Age 50.

Shake out run after travel day with Patagonia peeps. With George, Rod and Katie, and Ken.

May: Ice Age 50 Miler, The EVERlong, and Every Day May

May was a big month: peak training month, Ice Age 50 Miler, Patagonia Footwear meetings and my self-imposed training regimen of no running days off in may…”Every Day May.”

Second weekend in May I flew to Wisconsin with teammate Denise Bourassa and her husband Ken. Fun to hang with them for the race weekend. We had a cloudy and rainy weekend, but got a good couple of last shakeout runs in before the race.

The race went well. Super fast field this year. The race director, Jeff, mentioned it was the fastest top 10 race in the race’s 30+ year history. I had been doing some good, long tempo workouts all spring and they came into play on race day. The first 9 miles I was hitting 6:45-7:15 pace on the rolling XC ski trails in Kettle Moraine Forest and was in 14th place. I settled in and just concentrated on nutrition and turnover and good form. This course consists of a loop, then two out and backs (turnarounds at 26 miles and 40 miles). A great place to see competition and see how your doing in the pack.

At the first turn I was in 12th and the guys up front were running well (Josh Brimhall, Zach Bitter, and David Riddle). They looked strong when we passed on the trail. I picked off a few more guys on my way out to the next turnaround and by the turnaround at 40 miles, I had moved up to 9th place. About 2 minutes out of the turnaround, I met the first place woman, Cassie Scallon (on course record pace). I was kind of in a funky headspace here and that snapped me out of it. Funny how a little assault on the male ego can light a fire. I was quickly running a minute a mile faster and picking off a guy in front of me. I hammered it in and finished 8th place in 6:36 and good enough for the Master’s win. (Cassie ended smashing the 15 year old women’s course record by 18 minutes! A stellar 6:46…watch out for her.)

After the race, I jumped a plane to Grand Rapids, MI for the annual Patagonia Footwear meetings. It was an awesome week of geeky running shoe talk and trail running with The Dirty Herd and West Michigan Trail Runners, as well as Gazelle Sports. Highly recommend stopping in their shop if you’re in town. Met some great folks in Michigan and ran some great trails.

It was also a chance to show the Sales Reps the shoe I’ve been helping Patagonia develop the past 8 months. The EVERlong — a stellar trail shoe coming from Patagonia in Spring ‘14. It’s good. I’m stoked. It’s been my only shoe since last fall. I’ve run in NOTHING else. And anyone that knows me (yep, you know what I mean FootZone folks), this is not normal.

So, now I’m tapered and ready to roll at San Diego inside of 48 hours. Every Day May is complete (35 straight running days, capping off my final week of peak training with 96 miles and almost 15,000 feet of climbing). I feel ready — mentally, physically, and spiritually. I’m stoked to come back to this race. Great course, great volunteers and a great event. Love supporting it. Looks like it’s gonna be sunny and hot in the mountains on race day. I’ve done 5 sauna sessions the past 2 weeks. Let’s do this. Giddyup.

17 San Diego 100 Race Report: Course Record Run

Where do I start. Wow. What a day. I truly had “one of those days” where it all clicked. I’m SO pumped to have PR’d on a technical course for 100 miles. I can’t say enough about the race itself. Super-well organized, well-stocked, well-marked and hot and technical. Fun course.

Stonewall Peak at mile 60ish of the course. We went up and over this bad boy.

The Course

The course is held 40 miles inland in the mountains east of San Diego. There is 15,800 feet of elevation gain. The course is known for being pretty technical, exposed (no trees) and windy. June is usually hot, typically in the 80s and windy on the ridge and 90s in the canyons. The hardest part is that, after mile 15, you NEVER, ever have shade until 72 miles into the race. The course starts and finishes at Al Bahr Campground on Sunset Highway and does a loop SW and then connects to the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail) and runs north hovering on a ridgeline between 4,500 and 6,000 feet overlooking the Anza Borrego desert to the east. The course then heads west and down into Noble Canyon (the hot part of the course) for a figure eight loop and back up Green Valley to the ridgeline and the PCT. Then a northern loop along the shore of Lake Cuyamaca, over Stonewall Peak and then down the drainage paralleling Hwy 79 as it descends toward San Diego, then back up to gain the ridge (at mile 51/80) and take the PCT back 20 miles south to finish at Al Bahr.

Crew in the House

My buddy and Patagonia Team Rep, George and his fiance, Steph (a gifted photographer) were my crew. They did a great job. Steph got to geek out on photo opps and George got me through key checkpoints like a well-oiled machine. He was so ON IT. Going into evening, I was quite a bit up on course record and some of the stations hadn’t gotten word yet. George was paramount in filling them in, getting them firing up some broth and had it ready in hand when I arrived, ready to chug. Nice because I was SO over bananas and orange wedges at that point (a good focused crew is paramount when you’re trying to grab time everywhere you can).

The Race

We assembled for the 7am start at Al Bahr Campground on Saturday morning. My Patagonia teammates Luke Nelson and Roch Horton were running (and Krissy Moehl was pacing). The main contenders were Luke Nelson who ran a sub 20 at Wasatch last year (but showed up with a head cold…bummer), Adam Hewey — a solid 100 mile runner and probably who I was most worried about. The dude’s a closer in 100s, 19:05 at Cascade Crest 100 last year (3rd fastest time on that course) and I heard he was super fit, as well as Dan Olmstead from Eugene. Plus a few other dark horses (Fabrice Hardel and Tim Long).

After a few quick reminders from RD Scott Mills, we were off and running at 7am sharp.  Luke and I settled into 3rd and 4th place respectively, little bit of chatting at a relaxed pace. I don’t like to go out like a shot in a 100 miler, so I was content to cruise for a few miles, let everything warm up and relax.

A few laughs before the start with Adam Hewey. Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

The start at Al Bahr Campground, 7am sharp. L to R: Tim Long (foreground, end up in 3rd place in 19:01), Jeff Browning (aka, me), Luke Nelson, Adam Hewey (looking at watch, 2nd place under the old course record too in 17:54), Fabrice Hardel (long hair in black). Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

The first few miles are mellow, buff singletrack trail and we were just cruising along. After a couple of miles I passed Tim Long and moved up to 2nd and was running behind Fabrice Hardel. About 4 miles in we were rolling through a rocky singletrack section in some Pines and Fabrice was running very carefully on the technical sections and I felt like I was right on him. So, I decided it was time to pick my own line and jumped around him. I really enjoy the technical stuff and immediately opened up a good gap without even really trying.

I just concentrated on not racing and just staying relaxed and cruising and soon arrived at Meadows aid at 7.2 miles a little slower than Bowman’s CR pace last year. I knew Rod, Yassine and Dylan — namely Yassine, had gone out hot last year, so I wasn’t too concerned. Side note: I did figure the win was going to take a CR time and was willing to give it a shot and had Dylan’s splits on me for reference.

Approaching Meadows Aid Station at mile 7. Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

I swapped my single water bottle for two bottles with George and headed back the short out and back section. I hit the split in the trail just as the other guys (Tim Long, Fabrice, Nelson and Hewey) were coming in, about 2 minutes back. Little did I know that this would be the last I would see anyone the rest of the race.

Rooster Aid Station, mile 13.8. Crewin' in style, George, gettin' me the goods on the drive-by. Photo by Krissy Moehl.

After Meadows, I kept running comfortably, letting the miles roll by and soon cruised into Rooster and got there right on CR splits. I got in and out with some banana and more water and was soon turning onto the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), heading north. The heat was starting to hit here, because you start moving out of the tree cover and into the exposed shrubs that make up a majority of the upper course. I just kept plugging away and was soon through both Todd’s Cabin and Penny Pines a few minutes slower than CR pace.

Heading down from Penny Pines into Noble Canyon, I took it easy and stopped at the few small stream crossings and dipped my hat. On the lower section of this descent, it’s really technical and I ran up on some downhill mountain bikers all decked out in full faced helmets. We leapfrogged a couple of times and finally I dropped them and soon arrived at Pine Creek aid (mile 30) and was really feeling the heat.

I had been talking race strategy with my training buddy Rod Bien (2nd here last year) and he told me this section sucked and was hot and advised me to go easy so I would have legs for the 8-mile climb up to Pioneer Mail. I did just that. I took it slow and steady on this loop back to Pine Creek 2 (mile 36). I was about 9 minutes slower than the record splits at 36. This was okay, because I knew the leaders last year struggled on this climb and I felt pretty good leaving Pine Creek. So, I got what I needed…fruit, chugged 2 glasses of gatorade, ice and water in my bottles and got moving up the single lane paved road for the 8 mile grinder.

After a few miles the pavement ends and rolls down a little into a small basin on dirt road, then climbs again before hitting a water only aid station. I had already drained my two 24 ounce bottles and was ready for water. I refilled and the dude manning the station had popsicles. They were tasty. I had a melting popsicle and within 50 meters turned onto the trail that continues to climb. This section is mostly south facing to gain the ridge at Pioneer Mail aid (44.1) to pick up the PCT again. It was hot.

And, by the time I was nearing Pioneer, I was rationing my remaining water and having a bit of a low spot, but I got to Pioneer a few minutes under CR splits. George was there to make me drink a 20 oz. bottle of water and eat while I was at the aid station. Got new bottles and was off on the PCT to Sunrise 7.2 miles away.

The next section on the PCT to Sunrise was a little rough for me, but beautiful. You are traversing the ridge on it’s eastern side, just below the top and looking off into the Anza Borrego desert to the east, thousands of feet below. Awesome views into a dry wasteland. Very stark and beautiful. It was super windy too. Had to be 40+ mph gusts and just hot, sunny, no shade and wind burn to top it off. This was a challenging section for me mentally. I had no idea how far back 2nd was, I wasn’t halfway yet and was getting sunburned with no hope of shade for hours and hours. Buck up, Bronco, quit feeling sorry for yourself. Sometimes half the battle of a 100 miler is staying mentally in your “happy place” even when your conditions are pure fodder. Good life lesson.

I got into Sunrise (mile 51) around 2:56pm, 13 minutes up on course record pace, and was told by George that Adam Hewey came into Pioneer (the last aid station) 7 minutes back and was looking good and was in and out. Dang, Hewey. He’s a good closer and knew he was due for a good one. He’s a 100 mile runner that has been under the radar because his insanely fast 19:05 at Cascade Crest 100 last year was overshadowed by Rod Bien’s course record run. I knew he’d be a player.

Hewey. That got me motivated. I got moving over to Stonewall Mine looking over my shoulder with a little fire in my step. This section again was a hard section mentally. It drops down into a open, dry, yellow grass meadow near Lake Cuyamaca. You’re running on flat, dry, sandy trail and double track dirt road where horses have been and it’s soft, sandy, choppy and hot and you run into the afternoon blazing sun. Plus, I was pushing the pace to put some time into Hewey.

A couple of miles out of Sunrise, I went to take a salt pill and it went down sideways and got stuck and I gagged and threw up. Not a ton, but a chunk of orange pulp from the last aid station. Whatever, I didn’t need that fiber anyway. I waited a minute or two, took another salt, took a gel and then seemed to be fine. Phew. I kept on the pedal through this section and got into Stonewall Mine 30 minutes up on the CR, around 4:04pm and George and Steph were lounging in their vehicle. They were surprised to see me, as I’d gained another 17 minutes on the record there. They got me in and out and I was on my way to climb up and over Stonewall Peak.

This section I started feeling really good, as I started to get some shady sections along the lake, then more shade on the northside climb up Stonewall and when I hit the summit, I bombed down the 1,000 foot descent to Paso Picacho aid, arriving at 5:05pm, gaining another 5 minutes on the record. I was also told by George that Hewey came into Stonewall 20 minutes back and looked worked and immediately sat down. I was stoked. I felt good, I was gaining time on the record at every checkpoint and putting time on 2nd. I grabbed my lightweight single headlamp in case I didn’t make it back to Sunrise before dark (where my good lights were in my drop bag). I told George I was going to push to get to Sunrise at mile 80 before dark. With a fist bump to G-man, I was off to make it up the 3 mile gradual climb, before you finally get a 5 mile rolling, technical downhill to Sweetwater Aid. This was almost all in the shade and was a welcome change from the exposed sun I’d been dealing with ALL day.

Leaving Paso Picacho at mile 65. Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

I really felt good here. It was my kind of technical, narrow, rocky singletrack descent and the music was good on my iPod and I just got in a rhythm here and flowed. Before I knew it, I arrived into Sweetwater (mile 72) at 6:23pm — almost an hour faster than CR splits. This was a pretty minimal aid station but they had rice balls (salted white sticky rice). Man oh man were those tasty (whoever you are that made those, thank you). I ate 2, chugged some more gatorade and got moving again to beat the sunset to Sunrise aid at mile 80.

Coming into Sweetwater at mile 72. Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

The bridge and creek coming into Sweetwater Aid Station. Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

Chowing rice balls at Sweetwater aid station. George giving me the stats...split compare to the record, where Hewey is. Like I said, he's the man. Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

I was a little slow starting on this section, but once I got out of the sandy lower sections and onto the old dirt road, I started motoring again. I ran 85% of this climb, with only an occasional short hike break. It was nice and cool and I just concentrated on a good rhythm and soon was merging onto the trail section of the course that shares the exit and approach to Sunrise aid. Here I started meeting people just leaving mile 51 and I was almost to 80. I have to say, I did feel for them, but they gave me some good juice. It was nice to see people. I’d been solo all day. Lots of cheers and a couple of “Hey, you’re going the wrong way!”…uh, nope. Sorry, not doing that loop again. I’m starting to smell the barn and a sub 17 finish y’all. Giddyup.

I got into Sunrise at 7:52pm, still a full hour ahead of CR splits with a little daylight left. The wind was still whipping up on the ridge and with the sun setting, it was getting cool. I changed out of my Patagonia Cap 1 sleeveless jersey and into long sleeve Cap 1, my favorite lightweight Patagonia merino wool gloves, dialed in my superfly Black Diamond light set up (thanks Rocho) and with George keeping me eating during all this, I chugged some chicken noodle soup and got moving. As I checked out, the aid station staff was like, “Whoa, wait, wait, wrong way,” and George set them straight… “No, he’s the leader, he’s heading back!” Giddyup, George.

Arriving into Sunrise Aid Station, mile 80 at dusk. Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

Sunrise Aid Station ahead at mile 80. Last rays of the day hitting the rocky outcropping in the distance. Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

Leaving Sunrise Aid at mile 80 with Allen Skytta at road crossing (one of the Seattle ultra homies). He gave me big hug and shouted, "Man, you're crushing it!" Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

Here’s where I was thinking I needed to bust a move and get as far toward Pioneer Mail aid (7.2 miles away) as I could before I had to turn on lights. So, that became my near-term goal. And, I was able to get about 25 minutes out of Sunrise before I had to flip on my lights. This was paramount in grabbing more time, because I came into Pioneer at mile 87 at 8:52pm — over an hour and a half on the record. From there, I was just being conservative and careful so as not to eat it on the technical PCT in the dark and just keep moving, running 90% of the climbs with a few short hike breaks here and there. The remaining 13 miles were pretty uneventful, just relentless forward motion to get done so I could sit down. The last 20 miles of a hundred are usually just moving forward, eating, drinking, taking salt — repeat. When I got to the last aid station at 96, I knew I had sub 17 locked up and was then just seeing how low I could get the record.

I was so psyched to get into that last section through the campground and see the finish line. Teammates Luke Nelson (who dropped in the 60s due to his cold) and Ty Draney (who was there to pace him) greeted me at the finish, as well as Scott Mills the Race Director, Glenn Tachiyama and George and Steph. I was so psyched. Definitely my best 100 mile performance to date and a PR for that distance as well. Awesome, awesome day.

Big Thanks

Special thanks first and foremost to the Big Man Upstairs for keeping my path safe out there, my lovely wife and kids — without their support and love none of it would be possible — y’all are so lovely. And of course all my peeps: Patagonia…special thanks to the Michelle for the last minute customization to the Strider Pro shorts (look for them in Spring ’13…pockets, baby, pockets), Ultraspire for the hydration handhelds, Rudy Project glasses, Black Diamond for the awesome lights, First Endurance, Teague Hatfield and all the peeps at FootZone, my awesome crew George and Steph, the race staff and volunteers. Giddyup.

Tired but happy at the finish line with a new course record of 16:38:59. Photo by Stephanie Helguera.

0 Leadville Trail 100 Race Report

Here’s a little video highlight of the race. Thanks Angie for capturing video. Leadville Video

Man oh man, where to start. This was an epic adventure for my 12th 100 miler. I’ve had Leadville on my list for several years and just hadn’t been able to make it back to Colorado to run it. I knew about it back when I lived in Denver in the late 90s but was only a recreational runner back then and thought it was CRAZY. I was mainly a mountain biker back then. Fast forward 13 years and I don’t think these things are so crazy any more. Funny where life leads you.

Pre-race Build Up: Lots of Balls in the Air
This season has been my most hectic yet. Not only did I turn 40 in August, my wife and I welcomed our third child into the world in May. Needless to say, my life is busier than a one-armed paper hanger. Being a working and family man, coming out to Colorado early to acclimate was definitely not an option, so, I opted to sleep in an altitude tent for 6 weeks leading up to the race. This proved somewhat challenging and I thank my patient wife, as having a new baby in the house made any thought of extra sleep this entire summer simply not an option. Pile on the fact that I took a graphic design director position at a local internet company and still have my graphic design consulting business, I’ve basically been working two jobs this entire summer. Working 4 full days (Mon-Thurs), then Sunday through Thursday nights catching up on my consulting projects after the kids are in bed, made for a challenging summer. According to my training log, my average sleep for the entire summer is 6.2 hours/night. Not the best for recovery when putting in 12-16 hours of training a week. There were times when my work and family responsibilities just didn’t allow me to run, so I would cram in a night run at midnight and sacrifice sleep. So now that you get the snapshot of my crazy life, I’m blessed just to get to the start line in one piece.

Travel Mishaps: Learning to Roll With It
The plan was to fly into Denver Thursday morning, have my folks pick me up at the airport (they were driving from NW Missouri) and be in Leadville by late afternoon. No problem right? Wrong. After hitting Whole Foods in west Denver on the way, we started to drive up out of Golden into the mountains. Less than 10 miles up out of Golden, my Dad’s car overheated and we pulled off, called AAA, waited. That’s okay, Jeff, just roll with it, man.

After 30 minutes, the car had cooled down. We cancelled AAA tow, drove back to Golden and dropped the car at a local repair shop and planned to rent a car. To our dismay, NO ONE in ALL of Denver had rentals available. Finally, I reserved a rental car at Denver Airport through Expedia on my smartphone, 40 miles in the wrong direction. 80 miles extra driving. Yep, just roll with it.

Luckily, my cousin, Angie, lives in Denver and picked us up, drove us to DIA to pick up the rental and by 6pm we were on the road to Leadville. We arrived about 9:30pm Thursday night, checked into the Timberline Motel, hung out a bit and then went to bed. My father, who is 64 and pretty darn out of shape started coughing and hacking about 11pm. The coughing got worse and by midnight, he couldn’t lay down, and was almost constantly coughing til he gagged and hacked up stuff. His left lung had fluid in it. The start of Pulmonary Edema. Leadville, at 10,200 feet, was proving just to high for his body to handle. Uh, still rollin’ with it.

I woke my Mom up and sadly informed her that she had to drive Dad back to Denver to lower elevation immediately. So, after reloading the rental car, I sent my folks back to Denver about 12:30am to find a hotel. I laid down and slept soundly that night. It actually was a blessing in disguise, as my Father’s snore is louder than a 747 (no offense, Dad), so, having a completely peaceful motel room to myself was nice. Silver lining.

At the pre-race meeting on Friday, it really started to hit me how deep in tradition Leadville is with regard to this race. The race started in 1983 and would be the 29th running of the event in 2011. Cool. Over 800 people had entered and 640 showed up to toe the line at 4am on Saturday morning. The biggest 100 miler in the U.S. and the 2nd oldest. Very, very cool.

My cousin Angie stepped up to take my folks spot for driving and crewing, while my buddy, Dave Bowman, drove up Friday from Glenwood Springs to crew and pace the last 23 miles to the finish. Note to self, roll with it.

Grabbing some quick calories at first aid station, May Queen, mile 13.5

The Race

I got to the line Saturday morning about 5 minutes before the start and squeezed my way up front. For an ultra, it felt more like a marathon start with so many runners. With a shot of the shotgun to signify the start and the Leadville Police car escorting us down 6th, we began. I settled into a group of 12 runners, slightly behind 3 guys who shot off the front. My garmin showed us running conistently 7-7:20 pace for the first 5 miles and our group quickly gapped the remainder of the field. This start is pretty unique for a 100 mile trail race, as you are on a gravel, double track then, pavement for most of the first 7 miles before hitting Turquoise Lake trail. We all were chatting and joking and as I took inventory of the runners in the group, it really dawned on my how deep the field was this year. The deepest in Leadville’s history for sure. Lots of fast, solid elite runners.

After cruising the north shore of Turquoise Lake on the technical singletrack we popped out at the campground and through the May Queen aid station at mile 13.5 at 5:45am. I was surprised at how packed it was. Tons of spectators. After May Queen, you run up a road and into the Colorado Trail and climb up to a gravel road, then onto rough double track up and over Power Lines and Sugarloaf Pass at 11,100 feet. I started settling in and arrived at Fish Hatchery at 7:22am, swapped bottles and gel flasks with Dave and hit the highway, then Halfmoon Road section to Half Pipe aid. I started catching a few guys in this section and moved onto the Colorado Trail up and over and down to Twin Lakes at mile 40. About here I started to get a little dehydrated more and more at each aid station. I made the mistake of not drinking an extra bottle at the aid station, then topping my bottles. This mistake started to add up with the long sections between aid at Leadville. NOTE: Leadville has some of the longest sections at any 100 miler, with 9-10 mile sections between water. I carried two 24 oz. bottles and drained them dry on several sections before getting to the next aid station.

So, as I launched into the section across the marsh and creek crossing from Twin Lakes to the start of the Hope Pass climb, I really was progressively getting farther and farther behind on drinking. Not my normal thing. I’m usually good at catching it, but I was for some reason lazy this time. I rushed through aid stations when I should have stayed an extra 30 seconds and got more water down. That’s okay, Jeff, just roll with it, man.

Crossing creek at mile 41, on my way to Hope Pass

I got up and over Hope Pass at 12,600 feet and up to the ghost town of Winfield and the half way point in 9th place. I got into Winfield pretty dehydrated. Dave ran with me about a mile out of Winfield to check in and see how I was feeling. Not good. I got to the Hope Pass trailhead 3 miles down the gravel road from Winfield and had already almost drained both bottles. Luckily, Sean Meissner was sitting on a rock (he was passing through on his way to TransRockies Stage Race, which started the next day) and had a big jug of water. I bummed some water off him. Chugged a bottle and refilled and got power hiking up Hope Pass again. I got over the top and down to the aid station just above treeline and refilled and got moving down the big descent to Twin Lakes at 9,200 feet. About halfway down, I had already almost drained both bottles again. Still several miles from the aid station at Twin Lakes, I opted to dip out of the fast rushing creek that paralleled the trail coming off Hope Pass. I chugged a bottle, dipped and got going again. I was starting to feel better on the marshy swampy section over to Twin Lakes and came into Twin Lakes at mile 60 and met Dave to swap bottles and gels. We walked and he had a Nalgene Bottle with water. Again, I chugged about 25 ounces and dumped the rest over my head and shoulders. 8th place was 15 minutes ahead of me when I left Twin Lakes—pretty sloshy in the belly from all the water. I had downed over a gallon of water in less than an hour. It took me most of the climb up and out of Twin Lakes to get my electrolytes and salt levels back balanced with all the water I’d consumed. But about 45 minutes out of Twin Lakes I started feeling better, which in turn meant moving better. About 66 ot 67 mile mark I caught 8th place and kept plugging away.

I arrived at Half Pipe aid, mile 70 and asked how far up the next guy was…30 minutes. Dang. I figured I was now racing for 8th place. 30 minutes up meant I needed to run 1 min per mile faster over the next 30 miles in order to catch him. I kind of accepted my fate at that point and trudged the road section over to Fish Hatchery to pick up Dave as my pacer.

I arrived at Fish Hatchery feeling, well, less than motivated. At this point, with little incentive, I just wanted to get finished. So, that’s easy, just kept moving. Dave offered me my Yerba Mate special concoction (I call Giddyup juice), I declined. Was kinda in a funk. So, Dave and I slowly but surely got up and over Sugarload again, with all it’s false summits and cruised down the double track to the Colorado Trail section. This section we hit right before dark and I was starting to feel pretty good. I wanted to get through this technical trail section to May Queen before dark so I picked up the pace here and ran that pretty quickly. And sure enough, we made it to May Queen right at dark.

When we got in, my dad, mom and Angie were there to greet me. They asked if I wanted the Giddyup juice. No. Just tryin’ to get ‘er done. But, to my surprise, I was informed that 7th place was only 5 min in front of me. That kind of lit a fire under me and I looked at Dave and said, “get the Giddyup Juice, dude!” He smiled, turned and ran back to my folks and Angie and grabbed the 6 ounces of Giddyup juice. I chugged and we flipped on our lights and headed into the 6 mile Turquoise Lake trail section. This section is pretty technical and undulating along the North Shore of the lake. This is the kind of trail conditions I thrive in and really started to click.

Within 15 or 20 minutes we saw lights ahead. Sweet. It was Montrails’ Ryan Burch and his pacer. We went by them and I kept pushing to gap them. Within a few more minutes, more light and we blew by Duncan Callahan and his pacer. At this point, I was pumped, I had moved up two places in about 15 minutes and felt pretty good. I kept pushing low 8 min/miles and to my even greater surprise came upon Timmy Parr sitting on a rock, looking rather white. That put us in 5th and I just kept plugging away with the goal to hold my position.

We were getting near the end of the Lake trail when Dave informed me he couldn’t keep up the pace anymore. So, he stuffed 3 gels in a pocket of my Ultraspire handheld and said “Go!” I left Dave and soon was on the road making the final slog back to town. This section is REALLY long. It feels like it takes forever. But, I soon was on the outskirts of Leadville and onto the pavement of 6th and topped the hill and could see the finish line. I crossed in 18 hours, 27 minutes for 5th place. Solid day, even though is wasn’t an “A” performance with the massive bonk I had over Hope, but all in all a good day. The buckle is HUGE. Leadville style. Giddyup.

Thanks to my family, crew, friends for all your love and support. Also, thanks to Patagonia, Ultraspire, Black Diamond and FootZone of Bend. All your generous help. You all are awesome. Thanks.

The "Dinner Plate" Buckle

2 Leadville 100 Pre Race — the “old guy” perspective

Hydrating at Tennessee Pass Cafe in downtown Leadville

Ten hours to race start. Tons of chatter on the race this year, who’s gonna run what and how fast and who is the favorite…thanks Rod for keeping me abreast of the gossip. 🙂 What are my thoughts? Well, it’s simple…

It’s 100 miles. No matter how you cut it, it’s a long way. I know who’s running it, but I don’t worry about other runners or who’s who. I’ve always seen it as me against the course. It’s a distance that has to be respected. I don’t have any predictions or grand plans, except to run my own race and let the chips fall where they may. Do I do everything that is within my power to get ready. I’ve been sleeping in an altitude tent for 6 weeks…so, heck yeah.

I’ve trained…but to be honest, I really haven’t had much time to dwell on this race until today (not as much as past races). Life is just too busy right now. I have 3 kids (one is 13 1/2 weeks old today) and a beautiful wife who give me just enough hall passes to race these crazy adventures. So, dwelling on running has not been an option. Period. And that’s okay. Family is always going to be more important than running…and it should be, otherwise life is out of whack.

Will I run hard tomorrow. Yep. Will I leave it all out there. Yep. I owe it to my family to run hard and finish with no regrets. Anything less would be an insult to them. I’ve taken precious time away from them to train. I’ve sacrificed 6 weeks in a tent at night with a baby in the house. (Luckily my wife has been a saint about that part.) I’ve put in the training for this distance. Same volume that I have in the past. That’s all I can do. This will be my 12th hundred miler. I love this distance. It’s hard, it’s complicated, but yet so brutally simple—one foot in front of the other.

I’m honored to be running in the 2nd oldest 100 miler in the country. The pre-race meeting was inspirational. To be in a town that so revolves around this event. So embraces it. The tradition runs deep—it’s oozing from the town. I dig it. The energy is good. I’m stoked to be back in the Rockies and running in the footsteps of all the previous runners that have run this race for almost 3 decades. Cool to be here and the best way I know how to respect that tradition is to run smart, run hard, and leave it all on the course. Giddyup!

Leadville 100 pre-race meeting in the 6th St gym. Standing room only. 29 years of tradition.

2 Coyote 2 Moon 100…well, 78-miler

Well, what can I say, the C2M adventure was a good one, even though the “fun run” got cancelled in the middle of the night…a 78 mile training run with 22,959 feet of climbing was well worth the adventure…

Thursday training run on the 7-mile Ray Miller Trail, just south of Ventura, CA overlooking the Pacific. Patagonia teammates Clark Zealand, Scott Wolfe and AJW in tow. © 2011 Stephanie Helguera

Mother Nature won this bout with some pretty darn strong weather. Bottom 3,000 feet of the course had heavy rain and the top 1,000 feet of the ridge was covered in a soup cloud with some snow and high winds. Visibility was challenging (3-10 feet at times), especially once night hit.

The Coyote Two Moon 100 Miler has a staggered start with the early folks starting on Friday evening at 6pm and the last group (my group)  started at 10am on Saturday under cloudy skies and upper 50s temps. I went out  with Karl and Padre up the first climb. Karl and I hung out on the lower 2/3s and chatted with Padre up ahead 40 meteres or so and finally toward the top I caught back up to Angle and we topped out the climb together and hit the first downhill. Karl ended up getting a yucca sticker in his IT band on the first climb, so he dropped off the pace a bit.

Justin soon gapped me and he stayed a few minutes ahead of me until about mile 28 on the climb out of Rose Valley. It was starting to sprinkle up that climb and by the time I climbed out of Rose Valley the 2nd time, it was raining down low and snowing up on the ridge. Not really sticking, just bad visibility going into night time was total junk. By nightfall I had about 15 minutes on Angle and 25 on Karl.

The weather really turned as I was heading down into Cozy Dell at about the 100k mark. The rain got really heavy and the clay section the last 2 miles into Cozy Dell aid station was like grease. I fist planted my bottles a few time in the mud skiing down to the aid station. But, kept feeling great and by the time I hit Gridley Top aid up top at 72 miles I was up by 30 minutes on Padre and 40 on Karl.

When I stepped out onto the pavement at Gridley Bottom (mile 78), Sheryl Meltzer was standing there with a giant umbrella and my drop bag with the news that the “fun run” had been cancelled. I guess a few folks were coming in to Gridley Top a bit hypothermic and the weather was really buffeting Gridley Top. Bummer. But, conditions were hard enough that after sweeping and getting all the runners off and checked out, they abandoned that aid station and vehicles and hiked out until the weather subsided.

Awesomely hard course and would love to run that course when there were clear skies and big views. Would be sweet. Definitely some of the most challenging conditions I’ve been in during an event. I was ready for the elements. I had cold hands a few times, but it wasn’t that cold…low 30s. Warm compared to what I’ve been training in the past few months. I had plenty of good layers (little shout out to Patagonia, nice duds y’all). I have to say, the two days in Ventura and running the Ray Miller Trail on Thursday were stellar and gave me a taste of the nice weather there. Great hanging at Patagonia HQs…good times with the team. AJW is always in rare form and bowling on Thursday was hilariously entertaining.

Good job out there C2M folks. Great aid stations, great volunteers. All in all…giddyup.

Bronco Billy and  Nacho Delgado at bowling night. © 2011 Stephanie Helguera

Heading into the evening after grabbing my lights and new Ultraspire Spry pack. Had been raining on and off at this point. Real weather hasdn’t hit this valley yet. Heading right into it on the way to the next aid station. © 2011 Stephanie Helguera

Getting some calories down in the calm before the weather socked in. © 2011 Stephanie Helguera

Chillin’ after Ray Miller Trail run. © 2011 Stephanie Helguera

Most of the Patagonia Ultrarunning Team outside the original “tin shed” where it all started at Patagonia HQs in Ventura.

14 2010 Cascade Crest 100: Bruised Shin + Owl Attack = Course Record

Getting started in Easton, WA. How come I'm the only one yelling?!

Photo Courtesy: Glenn Tachiyama

Wow, what a trip this one was. Loaded up the family Thursday and headed for Bainbridge Island, WA to stay with my in-laws and visit family. After a good night’s sleep we got up and went to Battle Point Park with the our kids (and their cousins) to let them run off some energy. Plus, I needed to do an easy 20-minute “flush out the legs” run after being in the car all day Thursday. I had a nice easy run with some stretch sessions, headed back to the car, changed and went to hang out with my wife, sister-in-law, kids, and nephews.

The boys soon roped me into a game of “chase Uncle Jeff” around the playground. Okay, I’m tapered, rested and raring  to go. So, I joined in without a thought. Soon, 6 other boys on the playground (ages ranging from 4-8) decided it looked like awesome fun and joined in the chase. I obliged and started running all over the playground to keep away from the boys, occasionally letting them catch and “jail” me. I would then quickly break out and it would start all over again. After about 10 minutes, I was scaling a rope/wood wall with 2 boys hot on my heels. I slipped and banged my shin/tibialis anterior muscle about 3 inches above my ankle joint. After I sat down, it really started to hurt. Walking, flexing my foot—all hurt. Oops. That wasn’t smart.

Friday evening I went and crashed at my wife’s sister’s house in Seattle. That way I didn’t have to deal with the ferry on Saturday morning. We had dinner and after hanging out with them and my little 1-year old niece (SO CUTE), I hit the sack at about 10:30. My shin was still sore (this made me a bit nervous). Next morning I was up at 6am, on the road by 7am, and in Easton and checking in by 8:15. After catching up with a few folks (Jamie Gifford and his wife, Matt Hart, Betsy Nye and Paul Sweeney and few others), we made our way to the start at 10am. After the Canadian and U.S. National Athems, we were off and running. The first thing I noted was that my shin hurt every foot strike. Not promising, but I pushed the worry out of my mind and settled in and ignored it.

Hangin' with Seattle's Mike Adams before the start.

Photo Courtesy: Matt Hart, CoachingEndurance.com

I had decided I wasn’t going to let anyone go in this race. And with Phil Shaw, Lon Freeman and Dan Barger in the race, I was prepared to go out quick. Rod said Phil went out pretty quick from the start last year, so I was ready for that. And true to last year, he did. I went with him and by the time we hit the first climb a couple miles in, Phil and I had gapped everyone with Dan Barger chasing. Phil and I settled in to running up the first climb and chatting a bit. I felt good and soon we got into some downed trees. I continued to run while Phil hiked. I quickly gapped him and took the lead up to the first water-only station at mile 3.7.

I had gone out with one bottle half filled and one bottle empty, and was planning to fill at 3.7. Jamie Gifford quickly topped off my bottles, and Phil didn’t stop and assumed the lead as we jumped onto the singletrack switchbacks that climb up to Goat Peak. I ran back up to Phil and started to settle in behind him when he suddenly stepped aside and said “go ahead.” So I did. It was early and Phil was obviously running his own race. I checked myself and felt like I wasn’t pushing and kept running with a few short hike breaks on the steeper sections. Soon I was about 100 meters ahead, but could always see Phil a couple switchbacks below. The terrain up Goat Peak is pretty gnarly and loose (as it’s a high-traffic motorcycle trail). Soon I was up Goat Peak and ran into three motorcross riders, one of which had dumped his bike off the steep trail into the trees (upside down) between two switchbacks. They were all standing there assessing the situation. Bummer for them.

Soon we were rolling along on our way to the Cole Butte aid station. I arrived at Cole Butte, filled my bottles, grabbed some banana, and watched Dan Barger run right through the station and head up the rocky double track. I settled in about 30 meters back. We summited the road and Dan stopped to re-tie his shoes. I took the lead and started the dirt road descent. Dan caught up to me and we started chatting about Western States and Bighorn, and soon Phil caught up with us too. After descending 1500 feet, we started up the 1500 foot climb together — talking, running and hiking. We soon arrived at Cole Butte together. We left together and kept climbing on our way up to the PCT junction. I again pulled ahead on the steeper climbs around mile 17 or 18. I soon gapped Phil and Dan, and couldn’t see them anymore. This would be the last time I saw them during the race.

Rolling on the Pacific Crest Trail...sweet part of the course. Photo: Glenn Tachiyama

Photo Courtesy: Glenn Tachiyama

I soon jumped on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and started the nice rolling running the PCT dishes out on this course for nearly 30 miles. Awesome. I really enjoyed this part of the course. I felt good (except for the sharp pain every step in my left shin/muscle). I ignored it. At one point I thought about dropping, but then thought about Jurek’s 2007 win (and former course record) performance at Hardrock (which I witnessed) with a badly sprained ankle. It was black and blue with an air cast on. I thought…if Scott can run on a sprained ankle, I can run on a bruised shin…suck it up, Jeff, ignore the pain. So I kept going.

Leaving Tacoma Pass Aid Station with mouthful of banana (Mile 23). I took the lead for good about 4 miles prior. Photo: Candice Burt

VIDEO: Tacoma Pass Aid Station, Mile 23, 1 minute lead. Video by Matt Hart, CoachingEndurance.com

Since I didn’t have a pacer or crew and was going on drop bags, I was in and out of the early stations with the help of Jamie Gifford, his wife and Matt Hart who jumped in without prompting to help me out (thanks y’all!). At Stampede Pass (mile 33), you leave and immediately start climbing up into the woods. I glanced at my watch when I left and then listened for clapping for the next runner, which was Dan Barger. About 2 minutes. Not much. He was right behind me. I just kept on plugging away and soon arrived at Meadow Mountain aid (mile 40) and got in and out and listened again. I never heard clapping so I knew I had increased my lead over the last 7 miles.

VIDEO: Stampede Pass Aid Station, Mile 33, 2 minute lead. Video by Matt Hart, CoachingEndurance.com

I came into Olallie Meadow, Scott McCoubrey’s aid station at mile 47. I gave Scott a high five, downed some bananas and kept rolling. From Ollalie to Hyak were probably my lowest point in the race. My shin was really hurting badly by this point and there is a lot of rocky terrain in this section. Plus, the off-trail section on the ski resort at Snoqualmie  just killed my shin. Downhill running, especially technical downhill sections…the kind I normally excel at, really hurt. I had to really go gingerly down on these sections. I was grunting and growling coming down that thing. I really couldn’t run the steep technical stuff fast like I normally would, it just killed my tibialis anterior, it was like somebody was ripping it off. Best way to describe the pain was with every foot strike it was like stabbing needles in my shin muscle. It hurt enough that even with the lead, I thought about dropping…and I’ve never dropped out of a race…ever. In 48 ultras…never. So, I kept pushing the pain to the side. I concentrated on quick, light steps and kept turning over.

VIDEO: Hyak Aid Station, Mile 53, 30 minute lead. Video by Matt Hart, CoachingEndurance.com

Getting my Black Diamond lights set up for night running at Hyak (mile 53).

Photo Courtesy: Matt Hart, CoachingEndurance.com

I arrived at Hyak (mile 53) at 6:51pm and got my lights and gear for night time. I had some soup and jammed out of there not knowing where 2nd place was. I got through the paved section and started running up Keechelus Ridge on the gravel road, where I encountered my most bizarre experience in ultrarunning. I was buzzed by a Spotted Owl about 3 feet over my head. Wait, it get’s better. He swooped up into a fir tree about 20 feet off the deck and stared at me. Immediately the line from the kid’s book “Sam and the Firefly” by P.D. Eastman came to mind (I read it to the kids)…so I quoted, “Who? Who? Who wants to play?” and proceeded to run up the road. As soon as my back was to the darn thing, it swooped down and clawed me in the back of the head. WHAP! I felt my head and checked for blood. Nope, just stunned me, but thankfully didn’t draw blood or get my hat or headlamp. I guess the sucker wanted to play. I ran about a mile uphill without any hike breaks. I kept looking over my shoulder, completely paranoid he would come after me again. Good motivation.

I soon arrived at Keechelus Ridge aid and had some soup and got running again. I turned on my lights leaving here and was soon running down making my way to Kachess Lake. When I arrived at Kachess Lake at 9:20, I asked Matt Hart how far back 2nd was at Hyak. He said 30 minutes. That sat well with me, as I knew I’d run pretty hard up Keechelus Ridge and down. Hopefully the lead was more now.

I had some more soup, got bookin’ up the road and into the 5-mile “Trail from Hell” section from Kachess Lake to Mineral Creek, along the banks of Kachess Lake. In the past, this section has been pretty slow with regard to splits and the fastest split was Phil Shaw from last year’s course record run, covering the 5 miles in 1:42. I was hoping to break 1:35. This section is the no-rhythm section. Well, that’s the rhythm…no rhythm. I just ran everything I could possibly run, even if it was only 3 strides. I got through this pretty quickly, and finally found myself turning and crossing Mineral Creek. I ended up running that section surprisingly quicker than I anticipated in 1:26.

I had more soup at Mineral Creek, and got into my final drop bag to get all the gels I’d need to get me to the finish. I was stocked up and moving up the 3,000 foot gravel road climb to No Name Ridge. This section was nice, as my shin was really bothering me after Trail from Hell. The smooth, consistent climb was a nice breather for my leg. I was soon up to the Ridge, drank some soup, ate a peach slice, and was off and moving into the Cardiac Needles section.

Everyone talks about this portion as such a hard section, but I found this trail to be nice. The climbs are steep, but not huge. The downs are steep, but not long. I found it was just a good rhythm through here. I was still in my sleeveless jersey, arm warmers and gloves and didn’t need any other layers. The night was awesome. There was a good amount of dew on the underbrush, but it’s not too overgrown here. I got to Thorpe and went straight up and down it before getting anything at the aid station. It was kind of cool and spooky, as Thorpe was engulfed in a whispy cloud when I went up to the summit and back.

I got going out of Thorpe after downing an orange wedge and getting my bottles topped off. At this point, I knew I had the record, but wasn’t sure by how much. I was ahead of my original splits (for an 18:55), so, I just kept plugging away. This section has a few steep, rocky downs that I could only hobble down. I couldn’t run downhill like I normally would. My shin was just too tender. I made the rocky traverse over to French Cabin aid, and was in and out quickly and making my way up the final grunt climb before the final descent down to Silver Creek. The section from French Cabin to Silver Creek seemed like it took forever. My shin was really bad by this time and I had to walk down some of the more technical, rooty sections…I just couldn’t run downhill fast at all. It felt like someone was jabbing needles into my shin muscle. I gimped down to Silver Creek and knew I was going to be well under 18:55. I got moving through the whoop-dee-doo section after Silver Creek and was soon turning onto the gravel road, and onto the ATV trail. The road section over the overpass and into Easton popped up and went by pretty quickly and I soon saw the lights of the fire station.

Finishing at 4:31am in the dark. New course record by 1 hour and 19 minutes (18:31:09)

After the shin debacle and the owl attack, it was nice to be coming out on top. And, getting Phil’s record was just icing on the cake! It was definitely the most pain I’ve dealt with during a race. I ran with patella tendonitis in ’04 at Wasatch for 60 miles. But, this was way, way worse. Sharp pain in my shin for every step for 100 miles. My brother -in-law and I (afterwards) estimated I took over 100,000 steps on my left shin. A good beating. It was a good discipline in pain management. Just push it down and out. I’m still hobbling (6 days after the race) and the swelling is still there, but got it checked and it appears to be only a severely bruised muscle. Obviously pounding it for 100 miles made it worse, but it will heal—thankfully.

Thanks so much to the race volunteers, Charlie the RD…he’s the man….great race he puts on up there. Everyone should come check it out. It’s a stellar, tough course. My Suunto watch clocked 20,960 feet of climbing! Much love to my supportive family (as always), my sponsors, and Scott and Siiri for all their post-race advice dealing with the gnarly after-effects of the shin. Also, thanks to Jamie Gifford and his wife, Matt Hart for helping me get in and out of the early drop bags. Nice to have impromptu crew. And, as always, the Big Man Upstairs for blessing me with the drive and abilities to gett’er done! And finally, I leave you with this great photo taken of my shin, a few hours after the race, right after I took off my compression socks, right before it balooned up to freakish size…a big gnarly giddyup…

Gnarly after-effects of running on a bruised shin for 100 miles.

35 Three 100 milers and my Valentine

Now that the minimalist running switch is in “turtle progression” and I’m back training full volume in biofit insoles (albeit in lighter shoes), I’ve had a hard time thinking of quality blogging material. Chalk it up to slight depression from having to back off on my running a few weeks, I guess. Anyway, then it hit me, my old friend…the 100 mile race. After finding out I was 242 on the Hardrock 100 waiting list last weekend, I entered 3 hundred milers…yep, three (Bighorn 100, Cascade Crest 100, and Hal Koerner’s new Oregon 100, Pine to Palm).

So, the only issue, I had to break it to my lovely wife…now don’t get me wrong, my wife loves a 100 miler—ONE hundred miler a year. She worries, she frets, she doesn’t sleep during them. The problem is, I live for the 100 miler. It’s hands-down my favorite ultra distance. In my humble opinion, it’s the bar. I love everything about them, the prep, the pain, the emotions—no faking it, no shortcuts.

Now, it really  isn’t my habit to neglect to obtain wife approval for big races such as three 100 milers in one season—it’s the truly respectable thing to do when you’re married with kids. And, in my defense, I did mention all 3 separately in conversation. Whether she’s learned to tune out my obsessive ultra chatter and constant talk of running, training, shoes, races, and the like…well, the reality kicked in tonight in conversation. Our banter was something like this…

I said, “I need to do a blog post. Not sure what to write about since the minimalist transition is kinda on the backburner. Maybe I’ll just post on the three 100 milers I just entered.”

Silence.

Then she said, “You entered…three hundred milers? Did you tell me about these three hundred mile races?” I replied (rather sheepishly),  “Well, I mentioned them all separately,” and I quickly added, “two of them are local…one in Oregon, one in Washington.”

And that was it. She didn’t storm out, throw me to the ground, or punch me in the face.

Did I mention how amazing it is to be married to such a gorgeous, patient, beautiful, intelligent, hot, rock star of a mama, wonderful woman? (She checks my blog occasionally, so this will help.) Happy Valentine’s Day sweetie. Three. Giddyup.

22 Ozark Trail 100 Race Report: Trail by Braille

Getting ready to start. Photo by Paul Escola.

Pics of the course…lots of oak leaves. This is actually an easy part of the course to see. Photo by Paul Escola.

Can you see the trail in all the leaves? It’s there somewhere. A hint of what we had to deal with. Photo by Paul Escola.

Arriving Sutton Bluff aid station (mile 17). Photo by Paul Escola.

Done! 18 hours and 38 minutes on a very leaf covered course. Talking with my sleepy son, Benjamin, at the finish line. Mama woke him up after 3 hours of sleep.

Turning off the Black Diamond headlamp after crossing the line. Ah, to be done running!

Respect where respect is due…

Hats off to the volunteers and race staff…awesome aid stations, I never filled a bottle and the course was marked perfectly. You would never know this was a first year hundred. Very smoothly run—like a well-oiled machine! I was extremely impressed. Awesome, awesome job.

Now, since this my blog, I like to be honest and constructive…if I may, I’d like to make two small suggestion to Stuart and Paul (the RDs) for next year. Give the belt buckles out AFTER the 2pm cutoff. I know they want to be “low-key”, but I really wanted everyone to stick around so I could talk to all the runners post-race. Plus, it makes it really cool for the back of the packers ’cause EVERYONE is there to cheer them in. A few did stay and I enjoyed hanging out (you Arkansas boys), but I love to swap war stories and hear the first hand accounts of the runner’s experiences on the course. After all of us get done battling the course—especially a challenging course like that—it’s nice to share the experience with everyone who fought hard in the woods. Secondly, maybe a good ol’ fashioned Missourah BBQ. Swapping war stories with some ribs or a half a hog in my belly wouldn’t be bad either. Seriously though…great job Paul and Stuart and all the race staff and volunteers. Cool race, I hope folks will return to support this race. The leaves give this course a whole different level of technical complexity.

On an unfortunate note, I heard some horse riders pulled some flags on part of the course later in the day…which gave the race staff some stress. We used to run into the same issue when I mountain biked in Missouri in college. Horse folks rule the roost on trails in the midwest and have a long standing history of trail use. Too bad, considering how much time and volunteer effort was put into clearing the Ozark Trail (OT) for this race. Given the high horse use in some areas of the OT, maybe race staff try to reach out to the horse folks next year and get them involved with volunteering in the future and it would help with runner-rider relations and mutual effort to get the trail maintained. I think all could benefit. The 20 or so riders I ran into at mile 40ish did not know the race was happening. They were very nice, but surprised there was a race and seemed a little flustered that over a 100 runners were headed their way. I think warning and awareness will go a long way in the future. Much like the horse folks get involved in Western States 100. It’s a mutual benefit for trails and sharing. They learn about our crazy sport and runner’s get a reminder on trail etiquette when encountering horses on the trail (let the horse take the high side of the trail, talking to them, etc.). Plus, it get them emotionally attached to this thing too. Something to ponder.

Anyway…less deep thoughts and more about my actual race experience on the OT…

This was the most dangerous course I’ve been on at night. This course includes 80+ miles under 4+ inches of fallen oak leaves. You can’t see the obstacles under the leaves, which is basically running by braille—using your feet as feelers and being ready to adjust on the fly every step. On paper—this course looks easy. Race description said 15,000 feet of climbing (I think they must have used GPS units to figure that…which exaggerates elevation because it doesn’t take into account barometric pressure. My Suunto actually clocked a lot less—10,906 of ascent and 11,572 of descent). And I’ve found my Suunto to be the most accurate. It’s all at low elevation, rolling, no major climbs—well, it looked really fast. Even though it was 98% singletrack, I thought it would be pretty darn fast. Within the first 20 minutes of running in the pre-dawn dark, I realized my original plan of going under 17 hours was not realistic. The challenging footing in the dark with the leaf factor, as well as the route finding. Many times you had to look closely to barely see an indentation in the leaves where the trail was. Tricky, especially when trying to run downhill fast. Plus, certain sections of the OT are very rarely traveled, making the faint trail almost invisible.

We started promptly at 6am and ran the first 20 minutes in the dark before it got light enough to see. I went out leading the front pack with Ryne Melcher, Dave Wakefield, and Ben Creehan in tow. We were a few miles in and I stopped to tie my shoe at a power line crossing in the woods. They continued on and I jumped in about 50 meters back and we came to a down tree and no markers. We all looked around, Ben ran up the wide trail and then I backtracked to the last flag and sure enough the trail had veered left into the trees. We all missed it. Maybe a minute off course. No big deal. Once we were back on track, I joked that I let them lead for 30 seconds and they tried to get us lost!

The trail at times was easy to lose with the heavy amount of fallen leaves, especially if it switch backed hard. Plus, add in the thousands upon thousands of blow downs from the windstorm last winter (that uprooted, root ball and all and laid them over) in the first 40 miles of the course….well, it made for some slow going in spots where there was a 2-4 foot hole in the ground in the middle of the trail and you had to negotiate your way around the root ball and hole. At one point, I missed a switchback for about 3 or 4 steps and stopped to look, Dave scouted the trail and took the lead and I tucked in behind him and we stayed in that order into aid station 1. I ditched my lights, filled my bottles, ate a bit of banana and took off ahead of the other 3 guys by about 50 meters.

As we traversed, I just kept a steady pace and would occasionally catch a glimpse of Ben, Dave and Ryne across a drainage in the woods a few minutes back. After about 20 minutes I quit seeing them. I decided not to worry, as I felt comfortable and didn’t feel like I was pushing it. So, I just settled in and concentrated on not tripping in the deep leaves. I came into Sutton Bluff at 8:52am, the first crew spot at 17.6 miles hootin’ and my brother, Joel, yelling back. My sister had my bottles, Dad had food, and Joel swapped my waist pack and I was out of there in less than a minute. Later I found out that I had about 7 minutes on Dave and Ryne, who arrived together. Ben arrived right after them, but was in and out quicker and left before they did in 2nd place with Dave and Ryne close behind.

I continued to cruise in and out of aid stations and kept looking back but didn’t see anyone. I kept plugging away to the crunch-crunch rhythm of oak leaves underfoot. The heat started to be felt late morning and I was getting pretty warm. I was downing my two 20 ounce bottles and running out before the aid stations. I was feeling pretty overheated when I arrived at the next crew spot at Brooks Creek at mile 43.5 at around 1:25pm. We did the quick swap, Joel set up my iPod Shuffle and I got some ice in my hat. I was just about to leave, when an aid station volunteer yelled, “Runner!”

I bolted out of there like a shot.

Come to find out, the person they saw coming down into the aid station on the switchbacks was a hiker. I didn’t know that. So, I was out of there running everything. I went to turn on the tunes on my iPod and the battery was dead! What a bummer. It must have been accidentally on in my drop bag. So, after trying to get it to work about 10 times, I stuck it in my waist pack and accepted that this would be a music free hundred miler. Well, sometimes you just have to roll with it. As it turned out, with so many leaves, later in the race, I ended up talking to God a lot. There was some leaf-induced soul searching going on.

I had packed a back-up light (single, small headlamp) at 43.5 to make it to the next crew spot at Hazel Creek (68.5) where I had my night light gear. My original plan was to make it to Hazel creek by dark. But, the leaf factor had me running a little slower than my splits. And, thinking I had someone breathing down my neck in 2nd, I just kept pushing the pace on and off until dark. It got dark about 25 minutes from Hazel Creek and I had to switch on my light. With the hidden, challenging footing, it was definitely slow going once night fell.

I arrived at Hazel Creek at 5:45pm. But, I was feeling better with the heat gone and the night coolness setting in. I came in asking how far back 2nd place was and my crew told me they had mistakenly thought the hiker was a runner at 43.5 and that 2nd place was an hour back at 43. I told them I pushed pretty hard the last hour of light and hopefully gapped 2nd even more. I was off my original planned splits now by about 45 minutes and I told them I was not going to be pushing to get back on splits, just “gettin’er done” without hurting myself. The leaves and route finding was pretty tricky. I told my crew I’d see them in 13 miles at Berryman Campground and got moving again.

The next section was really slow going, as I had really pushed the last hour before dark and I now mentally knew I had a good cushion. I really slowed down from Hazel Creek to Machell Hollow. It was super slow going. I just was very unmotivated and almost exclusively oak groves (meaning, TONS of deep leaf cover on the trail). I got a bit of a second wind after Machell Hollow and there are a few pine groves, plus creek bottom trails not covered in leaves—so, I really ran those harder. If the trail opened up with no leaves, I started running harder until oak leaves hit again, then slowed down and watched footing. It was kind of like a long interval workout.

As you approach Berryman, the trail has heavier use (horses and mountain bikers) and was easier to see rocks and roots, even if it was leaf strewn. I arrived Berryman (mile 81.5) around 8:45pm, sat down, did a shoe dump—I was really getting tired of creek crossing by then. They come in nice even intervals. Right about the time your shoes and socks are good and dried out—time to wade another knee-deep creek. I told my crew that I was going to try to get in before 1am (sub 19) and took off to finish the last 20 miles.

About mile 89, just out of Billy Branch aid station, I kicked a rock under the leaves and did my 3rd and final face plant and bruised my lower quad above the knee and bruised my palm. I rarely, if EVER, fall on trail. But, not being able to see the rocks and roots was pretty crazy (and dangerous). Luckily I was wearing full fingered cycling gloves and carrying handheld bottles. So, it protected my hands. I rolled onto my back yelling, and slowly got up and walked it off. I’m glad I missed banging my knee cap. I got shuffling again on the slow going downhills. The one thing you couldn’t do on this course at night was hammer the downhills…too sketchy. As previously mentioned, I just ran hard on any uncovered trail sections and then ran all the ups because if you kicked or stumbled over something under the leaves, you could recover and catch yourself. But, downhill, your momentum is going too hard forward and you get a face plant as your consolation prize. It was a little frustrating at night, as I like to run hard in the dark, but I think that is the most challenging aspect of this course—trail running by braille for nearly 100 miles.

I finally hit dirt road that heads back to Bass River Resort and crossed the finish line for my 6th 100 mile win in 18:38:59. Ben Creehan crossed the line in 2nd place in 22:59 and Ryne and Dave in 3rd and 4th about another 20 minutes back from Ben (Nice job Dave on getting that first 100 mile finish!). Only 56 out of 126 starters (44%) of us got across the finish line…tough conditions.

Thanks a bunch to my family for crewing and taking care of me. It was great to have the whole family there (wife, kids, brother, sister, mom, dad, nephew, cousins, aunts, uncles….great time). It was killer to hang out with midwest ultrarunners and be back in the Ozarks. The hills aren’t huge, but it sure is beautiful (and tough) down there. Giddyup!

6 Ozark Trail 100: Leaf surfin’ in Missouri—the quickie

I’m in my hotel in St. Louis, fly out early tomorrow. Will post full race report when I’m back in Bend. Short version—at least 80 of the 100 miles consisted of 4 inch deep fallen oak leaves covering rocky, rooty singletrack—trail running by braille.

Beautiful course, but definitely the most dangerous course I’ve been on at night for actual running (with all the leaves hiding the obstacles and route finding). I ended up running 18:38:59. Finishing rate was really low…not sure official finishers yet, but approximately 40 out of 126 starters finished. Big DNF rate due to the challenging aspect of the leaf factor.

Had a great time with family and the friendly folks in the Show-Me-State. Volunteers and aid stations were great and the course was marked perfectly. You would never have known it was a first year race. Like a well-oiled machine…except the leaf blower must have been broken. Giddyup!