Disclaimer: This is my personal account of completing a recent 50K in the mountains outside Salt Lake City, UT. It contains some graphic language and brief descriptions of bodily functions. You have been warned!
Getting to the Start Line
Welp, the day was finally here. All of my training had gone superbly but had me wondering, like always, whether it was the right kind of training. When it comes down to it, I don’t live in the mountains, and any attempts to mimic them are just that. All the same, after three weeks of resting pretty aggressively, I was ready to go. I felt as strong and healthy as I ever have, so if not now, then when?
I woke up at 345a, sleepy but way too wired to sleep more. I made my new favorite drink, a chocolate LMNT with Starbucks instant coffee, and promptly shat twice!
Amanda dropped me off at 6a, and I promptly shat twice more! In the meantime, I just tried to breathe & calm my nerves. Per usual, I was amped despite knowing that I would likely need to find a pace & effort level that I could maintain for 11-12 hours.
Finally, it was time to go. They put the sweet, sweet sound of Lose Yourself on the speakers & off we went!
First climb to Hidden Peak
The first several miles were crowded. Thankfully, though, after my miserable failure to stay hydrated two years ago, I peeled off twice to pee within the first hour or two. There was also a lot of downhill as we worked our way down to the previous start line, meaning I could play around with some slow jogging. My fastest mile of the race was during this stretch, though I kept it to 13:00. My HR was really high (in the high 130s & low 140s) during this time despite the friendly terrain. I was concerned about this but also knew my nerves were through the roof & that I just needed to give myself some time to settle in.
“Trust the plan. Trust the training.”
One encouraging sign I picked up on immediately was the number of people around me suffering while I was feeling great. I was well in the back of the pack, but it had been my plan to be back there all along & it was clear that I was more prepared than many of the people around me. Panic was setting in for many of them 4-5 miles in, halfway through the first climb, while I was conserving energy & reminding myself that there was a lot of time to go fast if I suddenly found myself with extra reserves later in the race.
The only other thing of note on my way through the first nine miles was nutrition-related. First, it was clear at hour 1 that I had made a significant mistake trying to freeze peanut butter balls for fuel. When I went to pull out the second ball at 2 hours in, I was dealing with a messy, melted mass of chocolate & peanut butter. I had to chuckle at my rookie mistake, but I also knew I would have to find a solution to this problem. I didn’t train with these. Why did I think it would be a good idea to try them out on race day!?!? My other issue was related to hydration. I’d finished my first bladder by 4 miles in & refilled at the hydration station. I finished my second bladder within a mile or so of Hidden Peak at the top of the first climb & was excited to be drinking so much. Suddenly, though, I could feel something dripping off the back of my shirt. I wasn’t sweating anywhere else & immediately thought I might have a punctured bladder. This would have been awful so early in. As soon as I hit the AS, I mentioned my concern to a volunteer. He promptly filled the bag & squeezed it to test it. No drip! Turns out the backpack just created a heavy sweat zone on my lower back. All good!
Speaking of the station at Hidden Peak, I got to see Amanda, Matilda, Miles & Mom here, too! This was to be the only place I’d be able to see them, other than the finish, so it was wonderful to come through the arch at the summit & immediately see my beautiful family. I had made it this far pretty easily two years ago & knew not to get ahead of myself by thinking it would all be this easy, but it was a really nice break. Miles was only concerned with everything but me, but Beans was happy to see me & I got hugs all around.
After hugs, snacks, and drink refills, I was back out again. I still had a long way to go to reach the part of the race I’d reached two years ago, and I knew I needed to stay steady to get there and beyond this time.
Descent & the Climb to Mineral Basin
The next 5 miles or so were downhill. Great for a reduced heart rate but awful for toes & quads! That being said, I got through it in a couple of hours & then suddenly, out of nowhere, at mile 17 or 18, the climb that I had been dreaming about for 2 years was on me. The route was changed a little bit this year, so suddenly, there is just a random lefthand off the trail & I am staring up a hill that doesn’t end. I was chatting with a guy for a mile or so before this, but now it was time to work. I pulled off the trail to pee & wished my buddy good luck (he had already mentioned he knew I was a much stronger climber than him from earlier in the race & that he wouldn’t be able to stay with me) & put my head down & said to myself “The game is the game” (Thank you, Russ Cook!) & got to it.
It seemed that every time the terrain changed from downhill to uphill, there would be a moment of panic where your muscles rebelled a little bit & your heart rate jumped up & your breath went away & you worried you were done for. I know this comes from past experience & I also knew I wouldn’t be so easily beaten this time. I took some deep breaths. I made friends with the burning legs. I comforted my racing heart. I stayed steady & within myself. Before I knew it, I had settled into a very steady cadence, very steady breathing, an HR around 140, and I was suddenly passing people left & right. They were pausing in the middle of a trail or sitting on rocks on the side of the trail, or creeping slowly up the hills & I would give them a thumbs up & tell them they’re doing great & go on by. This went on for about an hour. Towards what I assumed was the end of the climb & still smiling & feeling great, I passed a gentleman who was himself passing people at a pretty steady clip. He looked at me & smiled. He said, “Great job. You are the first person to pass me in over an hour. You’re doing great.” When I shared with him that this climb had been my undoing two years ago & that I had been dreaming of making a better go of it this time, he just said, “Well, you crushed it this time.” I said thank you & climbed on, smiling from ear to ear. 10 minutes or so later, the trees leveled off & I knew I was at the end. I specifically remember sitting at this point two years ago, sitting on a rock waiting for Joe, panicking because I couldn’t breathe & I couldn’t move & I knew it was all coming apart. Today, I felt like I had yet to really start. I knew that I was a long way from the finish, but I had been telling myself for months that this is where the race starts & here I was, 20ish miles & literally feeling as though I had just started. I thought about seeing my family at the finish line & I began smiling & laughing & almost tearing up. And then I reminded myself that I had 10+ miles & the hardest part of the course in front of me & I shook it off & went back to work.
Mom asked me if I would like to take some of Paul’s ashes with me on the run. He could accompany me for the run & then, if I found a nice place, I could leave him there to enjoy the views. I immediately thought of a spot at the top of this climb that I had seen on my last trip. It is a small gravesite called “Tyng’s Grave” with a white picket fence with a stunning view out into the mountain valley. Despite my misery last time around, I remember thinking about what an incredible place that would be to be buried. I also thought it would be nice to leave part of him at the top of this piece of the journey after he helped me get to the top. So I left him there, snapped some quick photos to show Mom where he’d be, & I carried on.
One thing that escaped my tortured memories of 2022 was just how far & steep it is from the top of the long climb to the “water pipe”, a spot I distinctly remember sitting at & pouring water over my head in an attempt to rally. Regardless, I powered on, arriving at the first hydration station in 9mi with a smile on my face & a continued sense of disbelief over how easy this all felt. I chatted with the volunteer there about how happy I was to be back in this spot & he confirmed that I was in good shape but that there was definitely still some work to be done.
The approach into Mineral Basin with the climbs to come above.
Climb to Mt Baldy!
The next section was a final short but punchy section of climbs that leveled off into a pretty significant downhill as we came into Mineral Basin, the last place I reached in 2022. I was roughly 30 minutes ahead of my 2022 time & still feeling as fresh as possible. I was all smiles. It was also fun to think about Amanda & everybody else seeing my time update on the tracking page well ahead of the cutoff, all of them likely knowing that I had made it this far & was going to keep going. I grabbed some snacks, covered my head in ice water, took a glimpse at the mountain above covered in ant-size runners up above where I still needed to get, & off I went.
The next section started immediately with a climb up a steep ridge overlooking Mineral Basin. This is the area I could see as I came into the AS. I knew this was coming; I knew it would be hard & I knew it would get much harder. Again, I put my head down, did my best to choke down a PB&J, put on some music, & went back to work. After a significant climb but nothing too crazy, I came to a longer downhill section. I was mainly happy to see this bc I knew there was a limited distance between me & the next aid station (2.7mi or so), and every step I took got me closer & left less distance for whatever insanity was up ahead. And then I saw it.
As the jeep road we were on went over a little roller, our blue flags leading us around the course took a right. Straight up a path for mountain goats or some shit. I looked down & smiled. The game is the game. I sat on a rock & took some dust out of my shoes & then I got in line in the queue for people quietly taking their turn heading up this monster.
The pictures do not do it justice!
I don’t recall exactly when I sent this, but somewhere around here I became very confident today was my day.
Tunnel Aid Station & Some More Ups & Downs
From here, with the final aid station actually just below us & a short walk from here, the sadistic creators of the race sent us down a long, 1200’+ descent. We wrapped around the mountain & walked through a long tunnel in the mountain (really cool!), where we came to the next aid station. From here, it was down, down, down while knowing that we would have to go back up, up, up before going back down, down, down. 🙂 The game is the game.
After roughly half of the 3 or so miles heading steeply downhill, we exited the road & hopped on a trail that was headed back toward the top of Hidden Peak again. The final climb. 1.5mi to go. We got this. By this time, I had begun to see the same folks over & over as we passed & repassed each other at various stages of the day. (I am not good with downhill & was getting passed regularly on the longer stretches by folks who could run down the declines.) We all looked around & gave encouraging smiles to each other, only vaguely comforted by the notion that we just had to get to the top one more time.
The first half or so of the climb wasn’t too bad. It was twisting but largely shaded with rocks or the other tripping hazards most of the day. Then we came to a bend where we were suddenly looking up a ridge way up the mountain to the top, with runners dotting the ridge’s peak all the way up. It was only a mile or less away, but it was clearly quite a climb from where we were sitting. But this was it. Get up that mountain & it is nearly all downhill from here. I was slowly passing folks who would step aside to rest for a few minutes. I got up close to a man in front of me who asked if I wanted to pass. I said I was good right there as long as he didnt mind me behind him. Likewise, a couple of guys behind me were perfectly happy to just get in line & get going. So it was that 4 or 5 of us climbed, mostly in silence, for the rest of that stretch. The views were stunning. We were straddling the mountain such that we could see down into valleys on both sides of us. The weather had turned quite chilly & there was rain approaching. We could even hear thunder, which concerned me that they might pull us off the course. I would have done what they asked bc rules are rules, but that would have sucked.
The pitch of the climb got steeper as we got closer. Moreso than probably anything to that point, it just felt like we never got any closer. I would look up & pick a spot to walk to. Put my head down. Grind. Look up. Seemingly no closer. I still felt as good as I could hope for but walking in place is not a great feeling after 8-9hrs of effort. Oh well. Keep going. This, too, shall pass. The game is the game.
Suddenly, rain coming down & a stiff cold, wind blowing, were there. The cowbells were on top of us & folks were shouting encouragement. We were actually re-routed slightly to go left around the summit instead of to the right as they’d been doing up to that point, but we still got to use the aid station. In fact, as I was coming up the wrong way for the final bit to the summit, I was approached by a man who explained it was lightning protocol & that he’d walk me to the timing mat & get me headed back down. He was incredibly kind & very attentive to making sure I knew what was happening. I thought I recognized him & after he was approached a couple of times, I realized it was the Speedgoat himself, Karl Meltzer. After crossing the timing mat & ran into the lodge for a quick bathroom break & try to warm up a bit, grabbed another PB&J sandwich, & hit the road to get off this damn rock!
Time to Get Off This Rock
I had kind of daydreamed about the emotions I would feel at various points during the day. Since the final course cutoff was at this last stop, I thought there would be a huge emotional release getting through it & knowing that I could take however long I needed to get down from here & that they would let me finish. But everything happens very slowly over the 11 hours it takes you to get to this point. I was an hour plus ahead of the cutoff. I felt great. I knew I was going to finish well before I got here. So it was really just business as usual. Though, in my excitement over heading down, I stopped paying attention right around the time of the photo above & damn near turned my ankle. I quietly admonished myself, put the phone away & got on my way.
As silly as it looks, this was just a moment of pure excitement as I got closer to the Finish Line
For a lot of the walk down, I was largely alone. It was odd. Things were pretty crowded on the final climb, and the aid station had been fairly crowded. But once I started down, suddenly, it felt like I had the mountain to myself at times. It was amazing!
In the morning, on our climb up, we had come through a section with really steep downhills. It was hard to get down. So, as I slowly made my way down, at a faster pace than climbing but not ready to run, I was consumed by wondering if I would have to go back up that section. I was praying that the course would go around it. Our climb up had taken around 9mi & the descent back down was only 6.5 or so, so it was possible. Fat chance. Sure enough, I exited the trail onto a maintenance road & there goes the trail, crossing the road & then ascending straight up. A couple had gone by me as we had neared the road but were now standing in the road as I caught back up. The woman was visibly distressed. I laughed & agreed with her. This is just mean!! But… The game is the game.
I took a moment to laugh & remind myself that it couldn’t go up forever & I started climbing. But it kept going. And going. And going. there were so many blind turns where you’d think maybe it was done & then you get to the top & look right or left & there it goes, up & up & up out of sight. This was the hardest part of the day for me. I was so close yet, so far away. Even then, I never stopped to rest or sulk. I just kept climbing & reminding myself it would end. And it did. Finally. We came out of the final climb & the trail dropped down to a service road & then a trail that continued downward, presumably to the end of the race with just a couple of miles to go.
A few mintes after leaving that climb (I think) I came to a gorgeous little clearing with stunning views & a waterfall nearby. Paul had helped me get all the way up & most of the way back down & this felt like a great place to let him rest.
From here, it was just a matter of one foot in front of the other to get off this damn mountain. I had another 30min or so to the final hydration station. Once there, I checked in with Amanda one final time, chugged a glass of water & one of electrolytes, put my headphones back in & got going again. Also, at this point, a couple of people from earlier in the race were in the station simultaneously. We all smiled & there were some fist bumps & congrats & we are almost done!
Oddly, from then on, I was passed quite a few times in the last 1.5mi, even as I picked it up to a very slow jog. I was not bothered by this, but I was very curious about where these folks came from.
One of the last stretches was the exact same spot where, early in the morning maybe 1mi into the course, i had stopped to pee. It was surreal to be back in this same spot, having moved as much as I had & been through what felt like so much. From here, we followed the path another couple hundred meters, the cowbells & whoops of the finish line getting louder. Then suddenly, the course deviated from the earlier path & we were back in the woods, the sound of a cheering spectator. It turned out he was the last course photographer & as I ran by, he was very excited to tell me that I had less than 1/4 mile to go. From there, we came out of the woods into some HOKA-branded inflatables & directional signs labeled “FINISH LINE”. Another 100 meters & there it was. The very same ramp we had come off of most of 12 hours ago. There were still lots of folks standing there cheering & some little boys handing out high fives. As I neared the finish line, I heard my name announced & I saw Mom getting ready to take a pic. Then I saw Amanda & the kids. Suddenly I had my medal & was hugging & kissing my family.
One final note. I really expected to be bawling when I crossed the finish line. I had been daydreaming about this moment for months now & had actually nearly gotten quite emotional earlier in the race thinking about it again. But I think that a couple of things combined to “rob me” of my big emotional outpouring:
- I was not nearly as drained as I thought I would be. Quite frankly, I had a pretty easy time with this. I didn’t set any records, but I honestly feel like I put a little bit less effort into finishing the full race versus finishing the 22 miles I had dragged myself through 2 years ago.
- I had 12 hours to ponder finishing. More specifically, I knew for several hours before I finished that I would finish & that I would never be threatened by the course cutoffs.
- Instead, I finished feeling like I could do anything. I have never felt so strong in my life. I want to sign up for another challenge right away. I want to start running tomorrow. I want to push myself even further and see what my limits look like when I stay within myself and manage my resources.
God, this day was perfect.
