This race took place in the Vedauwoo area in the Medicine Bow National Forest west of Cheyenne, Wyoming. It was a very pretty area that I remember reading about during my rock climbing days. Lots of cool formations scattered around the land.

The race sounded challenging. The starting point at the Lincoln Monument sits just below 9,000 feet, so there would be a little altitude involved. Then the course profile revealed that it would be a downhill start with an uphill finish (it’s a 13.1 mile course, run out and back – once for a normal marathon, twice for a double). The total amount of climbing is around 5,000 feet. Not as much as the race in Fruita, but still a fair amount.

Then the kicker – it would be all dirt road plus a few miles of pavement = lots of runnning. I tend to fare better on courses that are technical with lots of up/down, twist/turn, etc. Things that require you to frequently change pace and use different muscles. I’m not very good at just pounding out mile after mile. Sounded like it would be a good challenge and a way for me to work on some of my weaker points.

Now that the running is over, I figured I might as well get working on this report since the only thing I can move without a great deal of pain is my fingers. This race HURT. Considering the fact that I wanted to stop at mile 15, it ended up going pretty well, though.

I knew it was going to be a painful experience, because my legs had been feeling very tight and a little sore in the days leading up to it. After recovering for a couple of weeks from the 50 miler I ran last month, I experienced a pretty good rebound and felt my fitness starting to peak. My resting heart rate (normally in the low 50’s) dropped to 44, and I noticed I was running faster in training with less effort. I felt goood. So I pulled a pretty dumb move, I ran faster and faster each run, pushing the envelope, exploring my new limits. I found the limits… I just couldn’t help myself, it was great to finally feel like I was RUNNING. It just wasn’t the best way to taper down before a big event like this one. I did rest a few days leading up to the race, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

That’s ok, this wasn’t a major event on my schedule that I was trying to peak for or do especially well in. I kept telling myself to just treat it like a long training run with aid stations. Trouble is, once you pin a number on and line up at a starting line, it’s really hard to keep from racing.

I drove up to Cheyenne the night before and picked up my number and race packet. Then I used the remaining daylight to go check out the course. I had never been to this area before.

It was very beautiful, and I was excited about running in such a cool setting. It looked like there would be some pretty good hills to contend with.

I continued the drive over to Laramie (another 10 miles), got some dinner, and then settled into the north 40 of the Wal-mart parking lot. Most of their stores have a policy that allows overnight parking and semi trucks and motorhomes were already settled in for the night. I was able to fold the seats of my car completely flat and with a little bit of engineering could stretch out completely. I woke up a few times, but it worked well enough. The alarm(s) went off at 4:10 and I was good-to-go. The weather was excellent. 40 degrees and clear skies.

The start was pretty low key, and surprisingly my legs felt really good. I was optimistic, even. There were 38 runners doing the double marathon. Along with that, there were another 100-150 that were doing either the half marathon or the full marathon. As was the case in Fruita, I had to be careful not to get carried away running with people that were doing the shorter distances and try to stick to my own pace. I didn’t do a very good job of that and my legs were downright angry by about mile 5. I ran pretty hard up a mile+ long hill to try and get some blood pumping and open things up a little. That helped somewhat, but it made me tired as well.

There was a 2 mile stretch of frontage road that we ran along I-80. As I watched the countless 18 wheelers go by I thought of my dad and wondered how many times he had driven past that very spot and had seen the same Wyoming view. I settled on LOTS of times.

We then went under the freeway and headed down Vedauwoo Road. This was my favorite part because of the cool views. I really liked that area, plus it meant that I was getting close to the turnaround point. Definitely a good thing. The only downside was that we had been steadily losing altitude up until now, so now it would be time to gain it all back. I knew that was going to be tough.

By the time I made it back up to I-80, I was ready to be done. My mind was full of thoughts like – you’re feeling this bad, you haven’t even finished the marathon yet, and you’re going to do the double?!? Yep. Just keep running. I was determined to make it. I knew that if I just stayed hydrated, and took in calories, and put one foot in front of the other, I would make it. Sure enough, after some downhill sections around mile 20 I started feeling a lot better. I actually enjoyed the stout climb up to the start/finish line where I took 5 minutes to reload with gel packs and Power Bars before heading out for the second lap.

Now, much like I was at Fruita, I was in no-mans land. There were still some marathoners coming in going the other way, but I couldn’t see anyone ahead or behind me anytime during the 5 mile stretch before the climb back up to I-80. As I did in the morning, I ran this part pretty hard. Mainly to get it over with, plus I was feeling quite a bit better on the uphills vs. downhills. As I crested one of the final rises I caught sight of 3 runners ahead in the distance. This immediately put me into racing mode. I knew I was probably somewhere in the 15-20 range at the marathon turnaround point and wondered if I could make up enough ground to crack the top ten. So much for the long training run plan.

I picked off one guy pretty quickly and put some good distance on him while we were still climbing. I didn’t reach the other two by the top and could only manage to keep the gap steady at around a 100-150 yards as we made our way back down the frontage road section. I couldn’t make up any ground, and was hurting to hold their pace, but I hung on. It’s funny to look at someone ahead of you in a race and think of how ragged their running style is starting to look, or how slow it looks like they’re going, but you still can’t catch them!! Little did I know that this would be the start of a see-saw battle that would last for the next nine miles. I pushed hard before the turn onto Vedauwoo Road because there was an aid station there. I knew that if I could catch them at, or just before, the aid station I could make quick work of filling my bottle and stand a good chance of leaving with them. I pulled it off and ended leaving with the guy that had been in the front for quite a while. We ran side-by-side for a mile or two and put a little daylight between us and the third guy.

Long story short, due to some nature calls we all ended up changing leads again and running together in one form or another for the next few miles. After we hit the turnaround at the bottom of the course, I started feeling a little better (at least better than them) because we were going back uphill. I think we had all been running a little harder than we should, or normally would, have. It was good fun and helped pass the time, though. They started to crack just a little and I finally pulled away for good at mile 42. I had also picked off another runner or two and wondered how close I was to the top ten. I figured the next runner ahead of me (based on seeing him coming back from the turnaround) had to be about 10-15 minutes up the road. Unless he or someone else blew big time, I wouldn’t be passing anyone else for the rest of the day.

My strategy switched to just preserving my lead over the other guys and trying not to crack myself in the process. This took a huge amount of focus to deal with the pain, the steady uphill grind, and the strong headwind going back up the I-80 stretch. I carried my iPod with me for the entire race, but never turned it on. I thought about it a couple of times, but I didn’t want the distraction. For me it was all about trying to focus, maximize my speed wherever possible, and don’t let up. I didn’t even look at my watch. Music, a clock, none of that would make me run any faster at this point. I was just giving it my all and determined not to leave anything on the course.

Finally the last steep climb appeared and I found a spring in my step that had been missing for the last 45 miles or so. I felt like I was flying and ran strongly to the finish. 10:37 – good enough for 11th place. I was really happy with that accomplishment. I came into the race many levels below optimal, and was still able to push to a good finish. Part of my philosophy for these longer events (and the attempt at a 100 miler in the fall) is to learn how to still run effectively when I’m tired, sore, not feeling good, etc. It’s been a counter-intuitive process, but to me, that’s where the results are. As I reflect back on the race, I have the feeling that I didn’t really run any faster than those that I passed, I just didn’t slow down as much. That’s the secret, and will be what I continue to work on. Just as soon as I can move again….

With it being Wyoming and all, the double marathon finishers were rewarded with a cool belt buckle.

Now it’s time to drain some blisters. Don’t look if you don’t want to see them!

results

On January 1st of this year I started my training for this race with a 3 mile run. I look back on that and just shake my head. It was a pretty ambitious undertaking to get from there, to doing a 50 mile race in the desert in April. In the middle of January, I did a 12 miler and was thrilled with my longest ever run. It took me 4 days to recover…

I kept at it though, and had the crazy idea of running a marathon on a treadmill while watching the entire Super Bowl from start to finish. The last hour of that was a death march, but I made it in 4 1/2 hours. That is a looong time to be on a treadmill.

Fast-forwarding through Feb/March, I did a run of between 20 – 30 miles every weekend for 8 weeks in a row. Then I backed off for a couple of weeks in preparation for this race. I was really excited to do this particular race, because I knew almost every inch of the trail from having mountain biked on it several times. It also caused a little distress for the same reason. I knew how hard it was going to be! I read everything I could get my hands on, including reports (like this one) from people that had run similar races. I was an information sponge, and really tried to prepare as carefully as I could. I hoped to finish in under 12 hours as a conservative estimate, and I found the results from the previous years and plotted key split times based off of runners that finished in just over 12 hours.

Left to my own devices, I knew I would start out too fast and then slow to a crawl later on. I wanted to do everything I could to prevent that. It was tough. There were 200 runners that started the race together, but only 60 of us were doing the 50 miler. The rest were just doing 1 lap (25 miles). You had to be really vigilant not to get caught up running with people that were only in it to the halfway point. We started out with a big climb, and alternated between power hiking the really steep stuff and running the rest. I was feeling comfortable, and in awe of my surroundings, and the runners around me. For several miles, I followed right in this guy’s footsteps. Thinking to myself how cool it was to be able to run with a legend. There aren’t many sports where the average guy gets to go step for step with someone at the top of the food chain like Marshall. He was running very much at ease before finally opening the throttle and passing about 20 people before I had a chance to even blink.

The weather was cool and overcast. With a threat of rain that never really materialized. I pulled into the first aid station at mile 6, sucked down a gel, refilled my bottles, and was on my way in about 90 seconds. I checked my time against my times that I had taped to my water bottle. I was 4 minutes behind at this point – dang! I wasn’t pushing hard at all, but I guess I was secretly hoping that I would be running this comfortably and be ahead of the game. Instead, I was already lagging behind my most conservative estimate.

The trail leveled out a bit and I picked up the pace. I eventually hooked up with a guy that had flown in from California to do this race. He was doing the 50 miler, and had been running ultra marathons for 10 years, so I stuck to him like glue. Figuring that he would know how to run an even pace over such a huge distance. That worked well for about 20 miles or so, and I was very glad to have hooked up with him. It was so much better running with someone that I could hold a comfortable pace with. I really enjoyed it because all of my training had been solo. I was feeling super and having a lot of fun.

There were a few mountain bikers out on the trail and one guy yelled – ‘hey, you look like a cyclist!’ as I passed because he could see my tan lines peeking out from my shorts. I yelled back with positive confirmation, and asked if he wanted to trade – that got a good laugh.

I hit the 20 mile aid station and was now 7 minutes behind the projected times I had taped to my bottle. I was even more bummed because while I still wasn’t killing myself, I thought for sure I was going fast enough to make up some time. I started to mentally and physically fade a little after this point, and sunk a little further into despair when the leaders started passing me going the other way. I was still 4 miles from the turnaround when they came by. Meaning that while I was on mile 21, they were on mile 29. Ouch, that was depressing.

I wasn’t hurting at all, but my get-up-and-go had got up and went. Just felt kind of ‘blah’. I hit the finish line (5:22) to a lot of cheering and went straight to my bag that I had waiting there to take on a new supply of snacks and grab my ipod before heading out on my second lap. It was cool to hear the cheers get even louder when the announcer called my name and said that I was a 50 miler heading out for more. That gave me a boost for about a quarter of a mile then I was back to feeling flat again…

Up and over the mountain I went, then I hit the 30 mile aid station and was STILL several minutes behind my goal. That routine was getting old. I took a slightly longer stop (2.5 minutes) and really chowed down on everything I could get my hands on. M&M’s, potato chips, cookies – I could get used to this kind of racing! It worked, because within about 2 miles I was feeling like myself again and crusing along. I crested a hill just as the sun broke out of the clouds and a song I really like started playing on my ipod. I could see several miles of gently rolling singletrack stretched out below, and took off with a smile on my face. Life was good!

The terrain was incredible. One section in particular was really neat, the narrow singletrack trail went right along a canyon rim with a substantial drop below.

It was at this point, mile 35 or so, that I was shaken out of my own little world by the sound of metal scraping and banging on rock. I looked across the canyon from me (only about 50 yards at this point) just in time to see a girl going over the handlebars of her mountain bike. The trail she was on was sloped steeply towards the edge of an overhanging cliff only 5 feet away. She tumbled and started sliding towards the lip of the canyon with her feet still locked into the pedals and the bike dragging behind her. I thought for a second that I was hallucinating after being out on the trail for so long, but her screaming shook me out of that state. She ended up laying on her side facing the edge with her back arched as far as she could. Her stomach ended up right ON the lip of a 70 foot overhang with nothing but rocks below. She couldn’t move because her legs were still tangled up with the bike. Another rider got to her before I could and held on to her while she got her legs free and could climb up and over him to get to safety. Wow! That got my adrenaline going for sure. That was one lucky girl, I’m so glad it turned out ok. She was definitely in over her head on that trail.

After I settled back into a decent pace again, I was shaken out of my bliss when I tripped and nearly faceplanted in the trail. It was one of those saves where you end up taking 4-5 huuuge steps to try and regain your balance and keep from going down. I made it, but then all the muscles surrounding my ribcage cramped up from being overextended. I must have been quite a sight – all twisted in pain, yet still trying to run. Must. Go. Forward!!

I finally reached the last aid station and only had 6 miles to go. I didn’t even bother to look at my watch, because I couldn’t stand the thought of still being behind and would rather not know. Just a bit of a hill to climb as well… This is a picture of Malcolm on a hike we took in this area last November. It shows the view from the 44 mile point – he’s pointing to the peak you have to go over to get to the finish (which is actually about twice as high as the one on the right in the foreground) – and this will be the 4th crossing of these mountains during the race. Up, up, and away.

I had a terrible blister on the ball of my right foot that was really slowing me down, but I didn’t want to take the time to mess with it so I forged ahead. When the finish line came into sight, I squinted at the clock and could just make out 11:3… – whew! I had made up some time and was 1/2 hour ahead of my goal. I ended up with an 11:37 finish, and was very pleased with my first ultramarathon attempt. I was 40th out of 60 finishers, but my time would have been good enough for 15th the year before – I guess a bunch of speedy folks showed up for this one.

I ate some food and drove back to my hotel. It felt soooooooooooooooooooooooo good to just sit down. I gingerly took a shower, then went and sat in the hot tub for 15-20 minutes, swam a few laps in the cool water of the pool, and took another shower. I was pretty wasted, but eventually hobbled over to the awards ceremony and picked up my finisher’s award (piece of sandstone with the race logo on it). Marshall Ulrich gave a presentation about some of his adventures and focused mostly on his Everest climb with some really cool pictures and video. I really enjoyed seeing that.

Now I just had the decision hanging over me about racing the next day. There was a 10 miler that I had already registered for with the intent of running it if I was able to. After shuffling back to my room from the awards ceremony I just shook my head and said ‘no way’. I didn’t set any alarms and figured I would get a good night’s sleep and then drive home the next day.

Lo and behold, my eyes snapped open at 5:40 – which is the exact time I would have set my alarm for. Weird how that happens sometimes… I stood up, and felt ok. Not great, but good enough. The blister was still by far the worst pain to deal with. I finally gave it the attention it was screaming for by draining it and patching it up the best I could. I drove out to the start line (same place as the day before) and got ready to run again.

I didn’t do any sort of warm-up, or even try to jog to see how things felt. I just figured it would be all or nothing when the gun went off, knowing that it could end up being a very short race if I wasn’t able to run at all. We started and I was pleased after a few hundred yards to see that I was running pretty well. I charged up a few hills and had a blast bombing down the other side while dancing through the rocks. The sun was just coming up and we had a great view of the Colorado River below us. What an awesome sight that was!

I felt great through the first 5 miles, then I really started to struggle. Every step became a real chore, but I kept grinding away. The race brought out a lot of Grand Junction locals that hadn’t run the day before, and after not getting passed for quite a while, more and more people started to overtake me. I felt like they should have given us 50-mile runners a ‘have mercy’ sign or something to put on our backs…

I asked for some morphine at the last aid station and got a pretty good laugh out of the guys there. Anyway, I survived it, and was glad for having been able to participate. That sunrise view of the river was definitely a highlight of the trip. Then I hopped in the car for the 4 hour drive home. Getting out of the car proved difficult – I think I’ve had better mobility coming out of the ER following some of my high speed bike crashes.