The Ultimate Human Race

Jo R.

South Africa’s Comrades Marathon described as “The Ultimate Human Race” is the world’s oldest ultra-marathon and is famous for its relentless, punishing terrain. Named by founder Vic Clapham in 1921, the course honors soldiers who fought in the First World War and celebrates the comradery runners share when completing the distance. The course alternates each year between the cities of Durban to Pietermaritzburg. On even years the “down” course is 89km beginning in Pietermaritzburg and on odd years the “up” course is 85km starting in Durban. Last fall I signed up for the Comrades down run seeking adventure. Feeling intimidated by the distance, I did not study the course or train much beyond the New York Flyer’s Marathon Training Program (MTP), coached by Brain Rossetti.

Comrades down run elevation profile. Many smaller hills the size of Central Park’s Harlem Hill or more are not represented. The last 10K is brutal and hard to run as the legs are in pain from hours of down-hill running.

            The morning of the race we boarded a bus at 3:30am in Durban and drove to the start in Pietermaritzburg. During the hour long drive I was amazed at the distance and steep rolling elevation that covers 1,800 feet during the event. The race began in front of City Hall in Pietermaritzburg at 5:30am and we were off. The course was slow and congested during the first few miles. Comrades is the largest running event in South Africa and over 20,000 runners participated. As the sun rose over Umlaas, the first of “The Big Five” Comrades hills I caught up with the sub-10-hour bus pace group and decided to run with them for as long as I could. The day before I spoke with Comrades Head Coach Lindsey Parry at the race expo who predicts your Comrades time to be two and a half times your marathon finishing time. Parry said I was capable of running a 9:30 Comrades off my 3:44 Chicago Marathon finishing time. However, as this was my first Comrades expectations weren’t high. The only goal was to finish.

Descending Umlass Road the first of “The Big Five” Comrades hills as the sun rises early in the race.      

Running with the sub-10-hour bus paced by Coach Linda, the group ran briskly maintaining an even 10:28 pace and stopping to walk for one minute every 10K. During the first part of the race the pace was easy and I felt strong. However, after running 50K my energy began to slow and I became scared of losing pace with the group and not being able to make the 12-hour timing cut-off. We ran through aid stations which was stressful as I struggled to grab water, salted oranges, or backed potatoes to eat and maintain pace with the group. I was so afraid of losing the group that I did not make a rest stop for 35 miles. There was an unspoken comradery with our group as we passed satchels of water to each other. I handed Linda cookies and asked if he needed food. One woman who wore a Comrades green number for having run over 10 races provided never-ending encouragement. She explained we were all Comrades helping each other through this race, Coach Linda was our leader, and that he needed us to run behind him and we needed his guidance. We ran together over the hills and helped each other through adversity as the miles went on. As the race progressed I felt more comfortable running a few paces in front of Linda, which mentally provided a bit of a cushion, being a few steps ahead. With 19 km to go Linda said we would “go at our own pace” after the 14k mark and the group began to slow down. At that point running was all mental and we were very fatigued from the constant hills and strong sun. At one point we ran for kilometers down a curved section of the highway at a 45-degree angle.

Running with the Sub 10:00 bus pace group and Coach Linda. Linda is wearing a Comrades green number race bib that indicates he’s successfully completed ten races and the number 50 to signal his age. My race bib is blue, the color for international runners.

            During this part of the race I dug deep and remembered the two NYRR NYC 60K ultra-marathons I’d completed. The first 60K, which I’d run without proper fueling and struggled to finish, you can read about on the Flyers Blog by clicking HERE.  From this experience I knew that once I started walking the race was over, as my body would feel pain and I would move very slowly. Finishing miles 42-50 was a struggle and I kept trying to calculate how long I would have until I was “safe” and could complete Comrades by walking if needed. Finally, during the last 10k we encountered Cowie’s Hill, the last of “The Big Five” set of Comrades hills. The group continued running but I had to stop and walk losing pace with Linda. My quads were on fire from the downhills and it hurt to run. I was in such pain that when I finally stopped to heed nature’s call after running 35 miles without a rest stop I could not squat down. At that point finishing was the only option. I walked/ran the remaining steep hills- that felt never-ending as there were 4 or 5 during the final 10k. As I ran towards the 4km maker I asked a passer-by what time it was. He replied 3:06 and at last I felt relief knowing I would finish. As it was too painful to run I did my best to power-walk, running once inside Sahara Stadium and finished in 10:06:20.

At the finish in Sahara Stadium with my Bronze Medal after finishing Comrades in 10:06:20

            Comrades was one of the toughest experiences of my life. It was terrifying. The course is brutal. But the race is an amazing transformative experience. I’m so impressed by the brave, kind sprit of the people of South Africa. The scope and power of Comrades dwarfs any other running event. There really is nothing else like it. After the race I ran into Comrades legend and 9-time winner Bruce Fordyce at The Big Easy restaurant in the Hilton Hotel. He grinned and said “10:06 for your first Comrades! We’ll you have to come back next year and get your double medal.”

Comrades Bronze Medal awarded to 9:00-10:59 hour finishers.

Some tips on training for Comrades:

Train for a marathon but then add two long runs together to mimic the distance of Comrades. For example, run 13 miles on one day and then 26 the next. For my training I completed MTP and then added an additional brunched run of 10 one day and 20 the next, three weeks before the race. In January I completed the Walt Disney World Marathon Dopey Challenge: a 5K, 10K, half marathon, and full marathon over four days- great Comrades training. To read about my adventures as posted in the Flyers Blog, please click HERE.

Run an ultra-marathon the season before running Comrades as the longer distance will help with endurance. Last November I ran the NYRR NYC 60k in 5:50:58, a great experience to practice fueling, test stamina, and develop mental toughness.

Be fresh for Comrades. Comrades Head Coach Lindsey Parry has stated you can’t run a marathon hard before Comrades and that’s true. The body has to be completely fresh to complete the 56-mile distance. At the end of April, I switched from running the Illinois Marathon in heavy rain and decided to complete the half instead. Good decision. You can’t have a cold or any muscle strains or injuries going into Comrades. If you do run a marathon before Comrades, it should be done at an easy pace. Researching Comrades I read a blog post by someone who said they ran a 50 miler leading up to the race and that ended up hurting them as their body was not rested.

Consider the training differences for the “up” or “down” runs. While this was not something I’d considered before the race, “down” training should have addition strength training to help combat leg muscle fatigue from down-hill running and “up” runs need extensive hill training. Parry has a great post about training for Comrades.  To view it, please click HERE. 

Be aware that finishing Comrades is 90% mental toughness. With 89K, the punishing terrain, timing cut-off, and hot South African conditions you are going to push your body beyond its limits. When you converse with someone after the race and ask “How was your Comrades?” they will usually respond with when they felt physically and mentally tested. Be prepared for this. This is why running a 60k helps. Not just with training but with mental confidence. After running Comrades, I had a conversation with a runner who ran with a marine who told him that Comrades was the hardest experience of his life. American Olympian and Ironman masters champion Collen De Reuck stated 2016 Comrades “was the most challenging event I have ever done.” You can read more about her experience running Comrades by clicking HERE.   Again, be prepared for this. This is a race that brings grown men to tears. But it is also an amazing human experience that I can’t wait to run again. 

-Jo R.

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Fifty miles of joy

Diederik van Hoogstraten

The following is adapted from a piece contained in the blog of Flyer Diederik van Hoogstraten, chronicling his journey running the Sean O'Brien 50 Mile Race in the beautiful and challenging Santa Monica Mountains. To read his prior posts that have appeared in the Flyers Blog, including about his book, The Running Dutchman: Confessions of a Wanderer, please click HERE. 
-Dave K, Flyers Blogmaster

M i l e  0. The headlamps of runners seem to be dancing in the cool, pitch-black morning. It’s 6 a.m. and there’s nervous tension, camaraderie between strangers. I fist-bump fellow runner Ann and wish her luck. I kiss K, my ride to the start who is also my love. Off we go. Easy up the single-track. We walk in the dark, up the steep hills. Ann is right behind me and she compliments me — for starting slowly, for not losing myself and my energy in those first adrenaline-fueled miles. Not this time.

M i l e  3. I know this creek, but I have never passed it. There’s a road bridge a few hundred meters away! Whatever, they want us to cross though knee-deep, not-warm water. I worry for a moment: about cold, soaking feet and socks and shoes for the next 47 miles. Then I decide worrying is pointless. Onward.

M i l e 7. Warmed up and excited I arrive at the first aid station. It was gorgeous getting here, on trails and fire roads I know so well, deep in the Santa Monica mountains. The rising sun blew my fellow runners and me away. It’s beginning to feel like a perfect day. I quickly eat some banana, the stomach feels surprisingly calm. K hands me a fresh water bottle. Another kiss. I am off again, into the wild.

M i l e  15. A glance at my watch, a missed tree root, and down I go at a decent downhill speed. I roll, curse, jump up, check for any serious damage, wipe some blood off my knee. And… moving on!

M i l e  22. How come I feel so good after what’s almost a marathon with huge climbs? I don’t wait for the answer and fly down the fire road toward the Bonsal Aid station, where my Trailrunners Club-mates and K will be waiting. But first I see my friend Matt and his friend Kristine on the narrow trail. This makes me happy. She is injured but he jumps on the trail. We run and chat. Matt’s a good guy, which I already knew, but he proves it, patiently waiting while I refuel and kiss K yet again. Then Matt runs another mile with me, nicely distracting me as a huge uphill section stretches out in front of us.

M i l e  26. I know these trails very well. Still, this climbing is slow! If I don’t keep drinking, if I don’t keep thinking happy thoughts, I risk the all too familiar slide into self-defeating thinking. Instead I focus on the next aid station and the cup of coke I know will be there. Passing runners as we push uphill cheers me up; the coke at the station is even better than imagined. I also wolf down a piece of potato dunked in salt, some banana, and a piece of a PB&J sandwich. It fills me, but as I run my stomach protests. Oh no.

M i l e  32. This is new terrain: I am wandering into the great unknown; I have never in my life run this far. The 50Ks I ran back in 2010/2011 felt short and easy. I realize my race really begins here, in the final 20 miles. Hey, there’s K. She has parked, walked up the trail and now she runs with me. Perfect timing. My GI issues were distracting and I was allowing some self-doubt. K forces me to focus, to talk, to smile. She gives me my new blue shell as it is now raining and misting and generally pretty miserable up here on the mountain. When she heads back to car I get yet another kiss. A runner behind me yells out: you should marry that girl, man. He has seen her caring for me. I tell him: you’re right, and I will.

M i l e  40. Will my toe need to be amputated? The pain is excruciating, sending an increasingly fast moving series of SOS messages to my brain. I walk, drink, take some Aleve. The good news: I don’t feel my tight calves, burning quads or hunger pangs — just that toe. I imagine a bloody mess and decide not to take off the shoe and look. I imagine it would be the end of this adventure. Yay denial.

Mile  47. Where’s that creek? I know it’s around here. Turns out I missed a well-marked turn after a long, steep downhill. I had run down the last huge mountain. After many miles in the 11-minute, 15-minute, even 18-minute range, it felt exquisite to go down at a sweet 6:20 pace. That’s when I knew my training paid off: downhill running can be tough, even dangerous when you are not ready for it, which is the reason I saw so many runners walk down gently and smartly. My descent on slippery, rocky terrain must have worn me out mentally, though, missing that turn. A kind fellow runner calls out, I follow, we cross the water. Now it’s one final push the last hill they call ‘the chihuahua': small but mean, with a real bite. Come on, move! I channel my late grandfather Opa and tell myself to toughen up, lummel. Lazy fool, I think it meant — in the most loving of ways.

M i l e  50. One more sweet downhill on the slippery switchbacks of Malibu Creek Park. I can hear K before I see her. She is proud, she says. I can’t speak. I swallow hard and run through the finish. Years of injury and frustration have ended right here, in this rain, on this quiet road, back at the spot where the headlamps danced around me this morning. That’s a wrap: fifty miles, fifty joyful miles, leading me home.

UPDATE (by request): the toe was absolutely fine. Not even a blister or damaged nail. I have no idea what caused that blistering pain late in the race. Can the mind imagine such pain? Why would it? Feedback welcome.

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NYC 60K Race Review

Jo R

The NYRR NYC 60K is an ultramarathon race with great volunteer support and spirit, but the distance can be a challenge for even the most experienced runner. The race consisted of nine four-mile loops of Central Park, plus an additional mile that we ran at the start for a total of 37.2 miles. It was a race that I’d wanted to run for the past two years before I had any experience running marathons. 

For those who don't know me, here's some background. I’m Canadian and grew up in the suburbs of Vancouver. I had a ten-year career in education and worked as a photographer on and off over the years. Since moving to the city I’ve transitioned into digital marketing and work as a consultant in social media strategy for a television production company.

This summer I moved to New York, joined the NY Flyers running club, and was introduced me to the Flyers Run SMART Marathon Training Program. Before joining the Flyers I’d only run one marathon and had little experience with speed work or drills.  

In 2015 I hope to qualify for Boston and know that the support of the Flyers and Head Coach Brian Rosetti’s coaching will help me get there. Running with the Flyers is a great addition to my life and I love traveling to run marathons. In October I ran Chicago and the Marine Corps Marathon before the 60K so I felt my body was ready for the distance even though I’d never run beyond 26.2 miles. 

The first part of the 60K was light and easy with the Flyers supporting my pacing between miles 6 to 27. Alan G met me early on at mile 6 and we ran together for my second loop. Later I met up with Dave K, Luiza S, and Dermot H who helped pace another two loops. Flyer Akbar J was a very big help -- maintaining my 10:08 pace for two more loops until mile 27. 

At Right With Dermot and Luiza During the 60K

However, when Akbar left I was began to slow down and was at a 10:30 pace for the rest of loop six and into loop seven. By mile 30 I felt fatigued and did my best to run and walk for the next two miles. At mile 32 I hit the wall and could no longer run. My hips and right foot felt sore and I did not want to risk injury by running. I decided to power-walk the rest of the race, but the 41 degree weather felt cold and I had to get my down jacket out of gear check to continue. This was really tough stretch to get through as I was very low energy. 

The NYRR volunteers had to help me unpack my jacket from my bag as I had no energy to open the backpack and was so weak that even carrying my iPhone felt heavy. I walked the last loop and finished in 7:14:33. This might not be the fastest finishing time but I feel really proud of completing the 60K as it took everything I had to finish.

Overall, the NYC 60K is a race I would recommend as it felt very meaningful to push my body beyond the limits of the marathon in the comfort and familiarity of Central Park. The support of the Flyers made a huge difference and I would not have been able to maintain a 10:30 pace for 30 miles without their help. Dave offered some great advice and said the timing of the 60K can present a risk of injury if the body has not had time to fully recover from 26.2 miles. 

After Completing the California International Marathon

I agree and feel there should be at least a month between a marathon and the 60K as my body felt very sore during the last 10k and post-race. Since the 60K I’ve run the California International Marathon that took place three weeks after the race. My time was slow as my body felt beaten up by too much running -- four marathons in two months. However, the marathons were so much fun that part of me wants to participate in them all again next year. I will definitely be up for the NYC 60K in 2015 as either a Flyer pacer for another runner or NYRR volunteer. 

-Jo R

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Burning Man 50K!

Beth W

First things first…

1) I am looking for a job, here’s my LinkedIn if anyone’s hiring…maybe at a startup or e-commerce company?  (Or a fitness/ running/ health company, of course!)  Long story, but it has nothing to do with Burning Man.

2) A friend is working on a fitness clothing line, if you have a minute, can you please take this survey and help them out? Much appreciated!

3) If anyone ever goes to run trails, please contact me. I love trails and will do all I can to get out of the city and run on them! J

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi! I’m Beth, a regular reader (but total non-participant) of the NY Flyers FB group, and this is my first, maybe last, race report…EVER. Feel lucky to have read this. Ha.

I'm tempted to call this a "rave report", but the Burning Man Ultramarathon (aka "BlackRock City 50k”) was a real race! Not just a race/run, but an incredible experience unmatched by any other. 

My friend Cherie Yanek is a world class ultra runner and the founder/Race Director for the Burning Man 50k, who some of you might know (or at least recognize) as the fast girl who runs in pink tutus, who graced the cover of the NYRR magazine in August (which she didn't see for a couple weeks since she was at Burning Man). She'd been asking me to come to Burning Man and run the 50k the past few years. Other friends also asked me to go to Burning Man for years (not to run). But I always said no, or had an excuse not to attend. I felt I had no "good reason" to go...until I was finally convinced by Cherie this year, after I ran my first 50k, and after she had found me a ticket to Burning Man.

Cherie Kicking off the 50K

Long story short, the Burning Man 50k was hands down the best race I've ever done in my life. "THIS IS WHY I RUN!" pretty much sums it up.

If you don't know of Burning Man, Google it. And just watch this to see what it looks like. Pretend you didn't see GoogleImages of girls in sexy outfits and fuzzy boots, you didn't hear that it's "crazy hippies, drugs and parties" and just listen to me when I say "not true!" Well, some of it is true. But it's much, much more than that! It's 68,000 people in a mind-blowing, fully functioning, hand-built "city" for one week, and then all burnt down (and taken down) at the end. It's in the middle of nowhere in a dry, barren desert a few hours outside Reno, NV. There is no water, no food, no electricity, nothing. Nothing for sale, no money exchanged, except $3 bags of ice. It's carry in carry out, with a super strict "Leave No Trace" policy (grrr, I wish other organizations like NF Endurance Challenge, and all big marathons, would learn a little from the Burning Man organization!).

The 50k race is 4 x 7-mile loops around the “outer playa" (i.e., the perimeter of BM), plus a 3 mile out ‘n’ back at the end (why are those always the hardest 3 miles ever?!). It starts at 5am, before sunrise, as many parties wind down. Many head back to their camps, knowing they need a little sleep, before doing it all over again tomorrow. Some are still wandering the playa to enjoy a relatively quiet moment, waiting to watch the stunning sunrise. Some are sobering up, some are not at all sober. Many are still out dancing as the night continues on. 

This contrast with the +100 ultrarunners makes for a super fun, friendly group of "race spectators", with a constant soundtrack of techno, house, and dub step music playing throughout the run, and some quite unusual "aide" offered up along the course -- I drank a few beers (hit the spot!), had a few sips of vodka-Redbull (not so much), and passed up an offer to eat something "magical" around mile 19…although might be interesting to experiment with that another time. (For the record, I have had beer and/or bloody mary’s during regular ol’ marathons out here in non-Burning Man world, so all good! Yes, people, for realz…remember why we run? Yeah, it’s fun. Do you get paid to run? No, right? Okay. So have a beer with your friends at mile 17 next time you’re not obsessing with BQ’ing or PR’ing, and just enjoy the experience!).

Nah, seriously, back to running...this was a serious, real 50k race. There were world class ultra runners on the field like Ray "Ray K" Krolewicz, former US record for the 48 hour distance runner of 500 ultramarathons and just hilarious to be around, and 2-time Western States 100 winner Kathy D'Onfrio (the first female finisher), who I feel honored to give my bacon to the next day.  

Start of BRC 50k!

There were competitor level race times with male winner Shaun Maguire finishing at 3:32:51 (who “doesn't race,” since he must be too busy finishing his PhD in quantum computing), more than 100 runners in attendance, two full aide stations with better nutrition than any race I've done (fresh brownies! No, not magic ones)…even media coverage from Competitor, Wired, some random German Magazine, and The ElephantJournal where our TV personality friend, Ryan Duzer, not only filmed the race, created this video, but ran his first ever 50k and finished in 2nd place! (Watch the video, SO F’ING FUNNY, and lots of hot runners from Colorado). Another runner, Kerry, also made this video.

I ran most of my ~6 hour race with an amazing woman and new friend, Gina, who I felt like I had known for years. We stopped here and there to chat at aide stations, drink beers, dance a little, and make other new friends along the way. After the race, we all got some cool race swag – a handmade medal, necklace, nice water bottle, a hot plate, and bumper stickers. The runners hung out, drank beers, ate some amazing cilantro chicken salad and many of us became friends and spent the next few days enjoying Burning Man together. When I tell people I ran a 50k at Burning Man, I don't think of it as a "run." I think of it as going to a big party with friends, while running.

Me, Jumping for Joy, at 2013 BRC 50k

Like I said, THIS is why I RUN! The Burning Man 50K was worth every penny, all the traveling, and all the effort to get there. I now have amazing new friends, had a 50k PR (okay, I’ve only run 3), and had the best, most memorable, life-changing week of my life!  

Come run it next year -- you can follow Burning Man 2014 HERE on Facebook. Be sure to get your ticket to Burning Man, too. Just click HERE for the Burning Man website. And you can follow Cherie for BM 50K and other amazing distance running updates HERE on her blog and HERE on Twitter.

-Beth W

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Lions, Tigers, Bears, an Arthritic Tortoise, and a Mountain Lion Did Nothing Fatal at the Inaugural Bryce 100

Julie W

Okay, let me preface this by saying that this is not your typical race report. It’s more of an epic tale of survival. But I guess that’s what running “hundies,” as they are known in the ultramarathon world, is all about. And it’s also a bit of a cautionary tale, for those who are planning their first hundy.

I BLAME MY DAD

I would also like to state up front that I blame my dad for this whole experience. He visited Bryce Canyon, in southern Utah last fall and told me that it was without a doubt the most beautiful place he had ever been.  Coming from a man who has literally traversed this entire country multiple times, often on his Harley motorcycle, I did not take this assessment lightly. 

Of course, he told me this merely to encourage me to visit one day, NOT to run 100 miles there. However, he should have known better. After all, he has known me literally all my life! Anyway, after getting off the phone with him, I immediately looked online to see if there was an ultramarathon there. And lo and behold, it turned out that there not only was one, it was the first ever Bryce Ultra Marathon 100. I took this as a sign (a good one), and immediately signed up (click here or on pic, below, to view a YouTube video (not my video)! highlighting the beauty and magnitude of the Bryce 100).

I’m not going to bore you all with my training for this race, as I want to get to the fun part…the actual race. But suffice it to say that I had run multiple ultras, up to 76 miles in distance, and have been using Bryon Powell’s book “RelentlessForward Progress” to train. Also, after switching my diet to primal/paleo about a year ago, my training has been going much better, and I have had no issues with GI upset, etc. during longer races (this had been a problem in the past). If you would like to know more about the primal lifestyle, visit the website marksdailyapple.com, or feel free to contact me. 

BEFORE THE RACE

Okay, on to the fun part…the trip!  Having never run at altitude (elevations during the race would range from 7,500 to nearly 10,000 feet), I felt it best to arrive a week early to Bryce. Although it takes 3-4 weeks to really acclimate (making more red blood cells, etc.), most experts believe that the majority of acclimation occurs within the first week, including significant adaptations of respiratory function. Plus, altitude sickness is usually worse in the first few days. Also, I figured if I were going to travel all the way to Utah, I should make a nice vacation out of it and see some sights beforehand. 

This turned out to be the best decision I could have made, as I was able to do two run/hikes of 9-10 miles the weekend before, and enjoy other fun activities (horseback riding, scenic drives, tours of the area) in the days leading up to the race. I stayed at the famous historic Ruby’s Inn, which is more like a little town unto itself, adjacent to the canyon entrance. It was great, as the shuttle into the canyon picks up right there, many tours leave from there, and they even had a grocery store, so I could cook my own meals (something I always try to do before an ultra). Oh, and the best ice cream and really cool rock shop, too!  I highly recommend this place if you ever visit Bryce.

An inevitability with an inaugural race is the unknowns. I wasn’t too worried, as the race director had also directed the Zion 100 the past two years, and it apparently went smoothly. I got a little nervous due to a couple of last-minute course changes, however. The first change occurred a couple weeks before the race, and led to a drastic increase in the total elevation climbed…from around 18,000 feet to around 26,000. 

The second change, which literally occurred a couple of days prior to race day, was a mixed blessing. Rather than being a complete out and back, they had decided to end the race at Ruby’s Inn. While this was great news for someone like me staying there, it would require that I either leave my car at the start and take a shuttle back afterwards (when I would no doubt be exhausted), or find a ride to the start. I immediately went on Facebook to look for someone to carpool with, and through the magic of social media was rewarded within the hour by an offer from Sarah (who will from here on out be referred to as “Tiger.” 

Drop Bags Ready:
What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

We agreed to meet in the lobby at 4:15, and her crew would drop us at the start. Ah, a crew…what a lovely concept! One thing I kept hearing from folks was how “brave” I was to be doing this race without a crew or pacer. I had frankly not given much thought to this, as I had never had either in any of my previous races, with the exception of two friends who walked through the night with me in the 20in24 race. Frankly, I didn’t really see the need for such luxuries, as you could leave drop bags at every aid station (approximately 5-9 miles apart). I mean, what could possibly go wrong? More about that later.

Race day pre-dawned with a prediction of perfect weather (highs in the 60’s, lows in the 30’s and no humidity or chance of rain). I met Tiger right on time, and was introduced to her crew: Eric from Chicago (hereafter named Bear) and Leo from SoCal (hereafter named, you guessed it: Lion). 

From Left: Lion, Tiger and Bear
Before the Race

The ultra world being small as it is, it turns out that I had met Lion a few weeks earlier when I ran the Leona Divide 50 miler. I had referred to him at the time as “Flag Pant Man,” due to the fact that he ran the entire race in 90 degree heat wearing American flag pant skinny jeans. He did this to honor his father in-law, a veteran who had recently passed away. I recognized him immediately, due to the fact that he was wearing the same pants to pace Tiger in the last 50 miles of the race. A true glutton for punishment, I’d say, considering the chafing that would no doubt ensue!

AND WE'RE OFF AND RUNNING

The race started as the sun was coming up, and we were treated to one of the most beautiful stretches of the race right at the beginning. This portion of the course was added later, and was one of the reasons for a course change. It was definitely worth it. I had decided from the start that I would go at my “arthritic tortoise” pace, as they had already stated that you could finish after the 36 hour cutoff and still receive a beautiful artist-designed belt buckle at the finish, although your time would not be “official” after the cutoff. 

Things were going really well, until I started the leg between the 3^rd and 4^th aid station. All of a sudden, it seemed like we were going straight up a very rocky path forever. Although I never had altitude sickness per se, I was definitely feeling the effects of the thin air, and had to pause many times to catch my breath. This very difficult leg was made better by my having partnered with an MD pathologist from the University of San Francisco named Harris (hereafter called trekking pole guy). 

We passed a good 3 hours together comparing diseases until he trekked his way on ahead. During our conversation, I learned that he had done the Hardrock 100 and was planning on going again this year. I was quite impressed, as this is known to be one of the hardest ultras in the world, with elevations of 14,000 feet requiring a 48 hour cutoff! He made me feel better by telling me that the Leadville 100, which I had already signed up for this August, was an easier course than Bryce, despite a higher peak altitude (12,600 feet).  

I shuffled into the 4^th aid station (just over 26 miles in) very concerned about my ability to finish this race. I didn’t know it at the time, but that leg was the hardest of the entire course. Tiger was already there, and looking very exhausted, if not outright defeated. She was having trouble eating and drinking, and this was affecting her not only physically but mentally as well. Lion and Bear were doing what they could to help, but I had concerns that she was done for the day. I certainly hoped not. 

Amazingly, being true to her nickname, Tiger kept going, and stayed around 10-15 minutes behind me for most of the day. This enabled me to visit with Bear and Lion at the aid stations, who served as my honorary crew as well. They were awesome!

The remainder of the daylight hours passed relatively uneventfully. People often ask me what I think about while running for hours on end, and truthfully you don’t have a chance to think about much except where you are putting your foot in the next step. Otherwise you will fall on your butt! In this respect, running an ultra becomes a moving meditation, and I think this is why I love it so much…you have to be in the moment. 

Thinking about where you’ve been, and especially about what is still to come, can be damaging on many levels. The course was primarily single-track, with some double-track 4WD road, and although most was not terribly technical, you definitely need to watch your step. I had brought my IPod, but never had the desire to use it. The terrain was wonderfully variable, with steep rocky stretches, gorgeous aspen groves, and of course, the amazing pink rock formations, known as hoodos, that Bryce is famous for…they look like they should be on Mars!

Beutiful Hoodos

I Think We're On Mars!

Around 8PM, I began to ascend a seemingly endless series of switchbacks leading to the Pink Cliffs aid station at mile 45. Along the way, several runners passed me going the other direction, as they had reached the 50 mile turnaround well ahead of me. They all said the same thing: “not much further to go,” and “you are going to be amazed by the views up there!” I had already learned from previous ultras not to trust the “not much further to go,” as you really have no concept of distance out there, and I tried to ignore that part. I was very curious about the view, however, and also concerned that I wouldn’t make it before sunset. 

At this point, I was mainly walking, and my stomach was giving me trouble for the first and only time that day, probably as the result of having some vegan broth at the last aid station. When will I ever learn not to try anything new in an ultra, particularly if it might have gluten in it? Redoubling my efforts, I made it to Pink Cliffs about 10 minutes before the sun went down, and was not disappointed. It was breathtaking! However, the wind was literally howling, with temperatures dropping rapidly, and I didn’t stay long. 

Trail Along the Ridge

I had also underestimated how slow I would be going, and my headlamp was at the 50 mile turnaround. Fortunately, I had stowed a flashlight in my bag just in case. I threw on my thin jacket (my other clothes were also further down the line), and headed out. It took me around 2 hours to go the roughly 5 miles between Pink Cliffs and the turnaround. The last 2 miles seemed to take forever, as the trail was very narrow and rocky, and I didn’t encounter very many folks at that stage. Although the night running was pretty cool, as the stars were amazingly bright, I could see how this might mess with my head if I were to do the whole night alone.

THE FINISH

I arrived at the 50 mile turnaround at 10:50, and was informed by the wonderful volunteers (all of the volunteers for the race were wonderful, by the way!) that they were still open for another 10 minutes. I was a bit surprised by this, as I had assumed that if the cutoff had been extended they would extend the aid station cutoffs as well. This was apparently not the case, or at least no one had told them. I was then informed that Pink Cliffs would close at 1AM, two hours after this one, and the next one at 4AM. I wasn’t worried about Pink Cliffs, as even if I didn’t make it there by the cutoff, I would still have plenty of water, etc., but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t make it to the next one by 4AM, in the dark, descending very steep and rocky paths. 

An added problem was that many of the aid stations, including those three, had no way of communicating with one another due to their remoteness, and therefore no one would know I was out there to wait for me or look for me if I didn’t show up. It was at this point that I made the very difficult decision to stop at the 50 mile point. I was too worried to go it alone in the dark, with no pacer, crew, water, etc.  

Lion and Bear were there waiting on Tiger, and I knew I could get a ride back with them.  I had never DNF’d a race before, and I was very emotional. The kind volunteers gave me a beer, wrapped me in a blanket, and let me grieve. Lion was quick to point out that DNF stands for “Did Nothing Fatal,” and everyone seemed to agree that I made the right decision.

Concerns then turned to Tiger, whom Lion and Bear had not seen since the aid station prior to Pink Cliffs. Their car couldn’t access Pink Cliffs, and because they couldn’t communicate with them, they were pretty sure she had dropped there or was en route slowly, perhaps hurt. It was very stressful, and Lion decided to head out towards Pink Cliffs, sweeping the trail as he went. Another man was looking for his wife and stepson, and Lion promised to look for them as well. Shortly after Lion headed out, a truck pulled up with Tiger in it. She had dropped at Pink Cliffs, and was looking worse for wear. The most concerning thing was her cough, which was wet and nearly constant. 

Concerns immediately went to pulmonary edema, which is a common symptom of altitude sickness. However, we had also inhaled a great deal of dust that day, so it was possible that was the problem. Either way, we wanted to get her down off the mountain as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it took another 1 ½ hours for Lion to return, so we holed up in the rental car with the heater on. 

The Rental Car.  You Can Imagine How Dirty We Were!

When Lion got back, he had some very scary news to report: As he was scanning the areas off the trail, he saw two green eyes. He thought at first that it might be a bear, but then the eyes quickly dropped towards the ground, and he knew it was a large cat. He kept running, turning his head periodically to look over his shoulder for the cat. 

Sure enough, a mountain lion came out onto the trail and stared at him. He quickly turned around, spreading his arms wide to look bigger, and the cat kept walking off the trail. WHEW!! Unfortunately, while looking over his shoulder, he stubbed his toe hard on a rock, breaking it. OUCH!! That didn’t deter him from running the other 3 plus miles to pink cliffs, though, proving yet again that ultrarunners are both tough and crazy! It was really frightening to think that I had just come up that trail 15 minutes earlier. That cat had been there all along, watching the headlamps going by. Fortunately, he decided we weren’t worth the trouble. We probably smelled too bad!

Hello Mountain Lion!  Good Kitty :)

Well, that’s about it. In the end, we all survived (Did Nothing Fatal), and had quite an experience. Lion and I went later that day to watch the runners crossing the line after 35 hours. It was hard to believe that we had gone through all that, showered, slept, had breakfast, napped, etc, and they were out there all that time! I got to see a lot of folks I had met on the trail at the finish, including Trekking pole guy, and handed out some belt buckles.

My impression of the race is that it is definitely doable, but I should have trained more with hikes, like in Bear Mountain, as much of the course was not really runnable. Also, if I’d had a crew, or even just a pacer, I could have kept going despite the closing of aid stations. I won’t make this mistake again. The race director has promised to do something to improve communications. It was an amazingly beautiful course, and I would recommend it. I will return next year...for the whole distance this time! Lion is already planning to sign up…can’t wait to see what pants he will be wearing. Thanks for reading!

-Julie W

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