Aug 27, 2011- Antelope Dash

Here's a mini-race report for the Antelope Dash that I ran this morning. It's an 8 mile race up at Curt Gowdy. Finished in 2:05:21. Here is my story.... kinda.......

~3min on, 2min off. Walked most of first half (Mo'Rocka trail). Had a hard time going, and that first half was too much uphill and too technical for me to really get myself going. Got my ass kicked by a wasp within the first 20 minutes. Came out of nowhere and stung me in the back of the head. Apparently got the guy a couple minutes ahead of me as well. First time running with my pack and food since the Trudge. Wasn't sitting too well... I normally like the shot blocks, but they were way too sticky for me today. Towards the end of the first half, I got tired of the sweeper riding my ass, and I began Operation I Don't Wanna Be DFL. Started going faster than I should have. Caught two folks and then cooled it a bit. Now, there ain't nothing wrong with being DFL.... someone has to do it. But my ego and my competetive spirit gets real pissy when it's me, so I pushed harder than I should have to avoid that.

I use to be an explorer like you once... then I took a wasp to the head.

Got "lost" on the second half. I forgot that 8milers also do Ignoraneos Loop, so I was going harder than I should have going into that. And then I forgot how much Ignoraneos meanders through the woods, so I went harder than I should have thinking it was shorter than it was. By the time I was on the real home stretch, I was too tired to do my normal kick (on account of kicking way too early way too many times previously). Passed one more guy, which was good for Operation IDWBDFL because the two people I previously passed were either took a wrong turn or dropped out because they finished ahead of me. Finished 9 minutes slower than last year, probably on account of me being stupid this go through. Good race, but I'm pooped. And the back of my head hurts. My ankles never bothered me though.

Finishing

Jan 17, 2011- Twin Mtn Trudge

I apologize for the extremely long write-up.... it was an eventful day with a lot to think about, and unfortunately nothing is flowing well out of my brain. So I guess I also apologize if this jumps randomly between thoughts or if some thoughts don't seem particularly developed or finished. So this will likely seem rammbling and just kinda out there, but here it is.

Well.  It's been nearly 36 hours since I've finished the Twin Mountain Trudge 2011, my sixth consecutive.  I've had lots of time to think about it. Roll the events of the day over in my mind. Even sat down with Aurora and Eunjeong and just talked about what happened that day and what had been and was going through my mind.  And even after all of that, I'm still not entirely sure how I should approach this report.  Hmmmmm.....

I suppose I have to start somewhere. No matter how many times I start this report and then sit back/ leave, it's not going to write itself.  I guess the place to start was where I was going into the race.  Physically, I was just about where I was every other year I've done the Trudge: somewhere between fairly out of shape and very out of shape. I had two OK weeks of training under my belt prior to taking the week leading up to the Trudge off.  So, more in shape than some years and less in shape than others.  The race director, Alec, had been sending out warning emails the last several weeks suggesting that the conditions on this year's course may be the worst yet, which is really saying something when one recalls TMT 2008.  2008 was truly a physical battle where I had to mentally man-up and pull myself through the end, especially since there was no possible "out" once I was on the course. TMT08 set the new standard in misery. But, I was able to get through it because I was able to mentally pull myself through, even if that year's race almost did break me. As I've posted in previous blogs, one thing I've always kinda prided myself in was my mental strength, particularly when it came to these races. I've always seemed to have been able to drag myself through any event I've wanted to, regardless of good of shape I was in.  I've managed to avoid a Did Not Finish thus far, including on several occasions where I really should have quit. And now, with the new emails coming out warning of a potential 2008 repeat, I kind knew what I was getting into and what I should be expecting.

The couple weeks leading up to the Trudge this year had been rough.  It seemed like there was issue after issue coming for me, whether it was in the dorms or at work or with school, and I was mentally starting to break down. Three days before the race, I really started questioning whether or not I should do the Trudge, or if I even really wanted to be doing it. I knew that physically, I wasn't in good shape and I wasn't all that great mentally either. I waffled back and forth in the days leading up to the race, including deciding I wasn't going to do it Thursday night when I watched one of my "pump me up" movies, "Running the Sahara", and for some reason the movie left me feeling even shittier than where I started off at. Finally I decided that I was going to do it.  I got up Saturday morning and got prepared, but there was none of my usual pre-race jitters or excitement. I just got up and it was just something I just had to do.

I got to the starting line and got checked in. As the start approached, I was starting to feel better, but I was still nowhere near my usual levels of excitement. The weather started off Ok... it was kinda chilly, but it was a bit breezier than usual. The Trudge featured a record number of participants this year. At 9:30, we were all released into the wild. After a short stretch of dirt road (one of the hold-over features from 2010 was the elimination of almost all dirt roads... The Trudge was as close as one could come to a "pure" trail race), we were immediately bogged down in the snow.  The area near the start/ finish was one of the worse section of snow because it was a bit deeper than other sections, was on a fairly steep hill, and was crusty stuff that would randomly give way under you.  From that point on, the snow-cover never ended.  The course was consistently ankle deep or a bit higher, but very rarely reached my knees.  Very quickly, I started to wear out and dropped back to a walk.  With my three upper body layers, including a fairly heavy jacket, I also started to overheat very quickly.  Within 10 minutes, I had to pull off to the side of the course to start stripping layers off.  This action dropped me far behind the rest of the pack.  I was alone.

Unfortunately, the fact that I was not mentally "in shape" for the race started to play a factor very earlier on.  By the end of the first mile, I was already telling myself that I didn't want to be out there.  That this was stupid.  That I really should just turn around and call it a day.  I trudged forward, but it just got darker from there. The longer I was out on the course, the more frustrated and more depressed I got. I can't even really explain what was going on in my mind, I just knew that I was getting more and more weighed down the longer I went. For the 2 miles leading into the aid station, I had decided I was going to quit. I didn't want to be out there anymore, and I wanted to quit when I reached the halfway point. I was upset that I was preparing to file my first DNF. I was the kicking the shit out of myself the entire way there, but I knew I was stopping.  I was so upset by the time I reached the aid station that I just broke down and started crying. Ted and Brandon were there working the station and my mom had stopped to wait for me to arrive. They couldn't get anything out of me other than, "I just wanna quit." Eventually, mom started getting chilled and had to get moving again, so she left the aid station telling me that she would try and get back there with a vehicle to pick me up when she finished. I was logging my very first DNF.

I sat there at the aid station for a bit and just cried. I was upset that I was actually quitting. I was upset that I went out there in the first place. I was upset that the "mental strength" I've always considered my better quality was gone.  But, after ten or fifteen minutes, that frustration and that depression turned into anger. I was angry that I was quitting. I was angry that there was nothing wrong with me physically- I wasn't hurting and I wasn't particularly tired. I was angry because I was just mentally pussing out.  I knew that if I stayed there and didn't go back out there, I would be kicking myself for a long time over it.  I got my pack back on, I told Ted to let base camp know that I'm not quitting, I took a shot of scotch (which, by the way, tastes terrible. Next year, I recommend good tasting fruity alcohol at the aid station), and I stomped off.  I realized I was in for a less than enjoyable afternoon, but I was not ready to quit for no reason other than mentally wanting to giving up.

For the first couple miles out of the finish line, my mantra was, "You're going to finish this.  You're going to get through this. You're not giving up this time.  Just fucking move!"  After the Devil's Loop rocky area, my physical lack of fitness finally started taking its toll and exhaustion was starting to set in.  I could not go very far without having to stop for a couple minutes and rest.  I started having to set targets for myself in an effort to keep some semi-constant movement going.

"Tree."
walk 10 feet to target tree.
Stop for 5 seconds.
"Small bush in path."
Walk 10 feet to bush.
Stop for 5 seconds.
"Next flag."
Walk to next flag.
Stop for 5 seconds.

I don't even remember how long this went on. By that point, my mind had shut everything down beyond, "Tree", "Bush", "Flag", and whatever it took to keep my feet moving in between my waypoints.  After a while, the targets stopped and the Relentless Forward Motion kicked in.  I picked out a set of foot prints, put my head down, and followed the tracks step-for-step and didn't stop. I couldn't even tell you what the course looked like beyond that set of foot prints. I was no longer upset. I was no longer angry. I just needed to move. The only times my mind really came back to me was when the course took 180 degree turns and started heading back east.  That was usually when I would have some anger boil up over the fact that I was going the wrong goddammed direction and yelling over the fact that Alec was such a prick for doing this. About a mile out from the finish, I caught back up with mom, who was pretty shocked but excited to see me again. We didn't really stop and talk though because the only thing really keeping me going at that point was the Relentless Forward Motion. If I stopped too much, I didn't think I would get started again. I kept Trudging ahead.

Unfortunately, the wind had picked up a great deal by that point in the day, which meant the last 1/2 - 3/4 miles in were ankle-to-knee deep snow, uphill, into a very stiff Wyoming breeze. To be honest, with how hard the walk into the finish was, I think that point of the race was the lowest I had felt since the aid station.  I eventually finished in 5:25:45, and as soon as I crossed the line, I had to get down on all fours.  I mentally and physically had no more go and I just needed to stop. Mom finished shortly behind me. Later on that night, I found out that one of the 22 milers, Hawaiian Shirt Ray, got lost out on the course. Fortunately, he was very experienced with trail racing and outdoors survival and was extremely prepared, and he was found safely and in good condition after 14 hours on the course.  You can read his story at http://www.hawaiianshirtray.com/2011/the-2011-twin-mountain-trudge-turns-epic/

Mom & I at the finish.

The race this year gave me a lot to think about, both from what I went through on the course and with what happened with Ray.  The first thought I had was about my over-reliance on being able to mentally pull through. For the last several years, I've been using that ability to pull myself through as a bit of a crutch or an excuse to do things I probably shouldn't.  I didn't care how out of shape I was or how injured I was. I just know that I'm going to be able to get myself through this and I'll be miserable the next morning, but I'll go out and I'll finish it. And that strategy is all fine and dandy, until the mental aspect fails too.  And then I'm out of shape and I no longer have the drive to get through. To be honest, I think the thing that upset me the most during the race is that I had mentally quit and it didn't look like I was going to be able to pull through. I need to change that. I need to physically and mentally be on board with this stuff if I'm serious about doing it.

The second thing I had to think about sort came up while I was on the course, but was really hit home with what happened to Ray.  What I do is dangerous.  I go out and run in the middle of the woods, sometimes far from other people. If something goes wrong, it will often be hours before anyone will come for me or stummble across me.  Conditions can change rapidly, unexpected events can occur, things can go wrong. Trail/ adventure running is fairly risky if you think about it.  And I make it all worse by refusing to properly prepare or train.  I put myself in a position to be suffering from exhaustion right from the start. I make it so I have to pull myself through the entire race, not just the difficult back stretches. By not being prepared, I vastly increase the level of risk to myself involved. By preparing, not only would I eliminate the additional risk, but I would also mitigate some of the pre-existing risks.

The events of this past Saturday really got me thinking about these things and how I need to change my approach to the trail/ adventure running.

All in all, it was an... interesting day.  For physical conditions, Trudge 2011 was the second worst year.  Unlike 2008, there was no waist deep snow or crawling, though '11 was far worse than any of the other years.  As far as race experiences go, 2011 is easily the hardest one I've been through. Saturday was the only race where I've had a possible "out" to get off the course, and damn near took it. In hindsight, I am glad I finished. If nothing else, there is no doubt in my mind that I would be kicking the crap out of myself if I did officially pack it in. Alec is doing quite a number on my ego though.... he has been in charge of the only two races where I genuinely wanted to quit or tried to quit.

In conclusion, thanks to Alec and all the volunteers for putting this on and making it happen. As always, it was a well put together and well ran event. I guess now it's time to move forward again, hopefully make some good changes, and hopefully make my way safely and intelligently back out into the woods.

Jan 31, 2010- Trudge 2010, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Suffering

Yesterday morning was the 6th annual Twin Mountain Trudge. After the early, snowy winter we endured, there was some concerns about course conditions for this year's Trudge. However, the snow tapered off and was sporadic at best in the months leading up to the race. The lack of new snow, though, didn't make too much of a difference as early reports from the field indicated that the old snow hadn't gone anywhere.

The morning of the race arrived, and the racers met at the new start/ finish on the opposite end of the course from the usual due to the inability to reach the normal base camp. The race had attracted a record number of runners, including several pretty elite guys from around the region. Right before the start of the race, the race director, Alec, handed out jackets to the two newest Twin Mountain Trudge Official Masochists, myself and Brian. The official Masochist jacket is given out to those who are brave enough (or retarded enough) to not just do the Trudge once or twice, but five freaking times. It was a great day for the run, with minimal wind and the sun just starting to peak out from behind the clouds. At 9am, Alec finished the pre-race breifing and released us into the wild. We quickly learned why Alec chose that location as the new starting line- specifically, he needed to find a good-sized uphill to start us on to make sure we weren't feeling too good before the snow.

We got off the half mile of road, and immediately found ourselves in snow that was rarely more shallow than ankle deep, but frequently much deeper. One of the most challenging aspects of this year's race was the fact that the snow was unrelenting. On a normal year, you can usually count on at least half of the race being relatively nice and runnable. This year, it was almost non-stop trudging and post-holing. Alec even removed the several miles of road, which can always be counted on to be clear gravel, and replaced it with new sections of Trudging. I believe my most common utterance/ yell was, "God dammit, come on!!!" It was a very slow, very tiring adventure. And so.... we Trudged on. I reached the Fenceline climb, and it seemed to be worse than it normally was, probably because of the increased snow. The climb was several miles earlier in the race than it was on the old course, so the fact that it was more tiring and trying than usual was not a good sign.

Reached the top and continued to Trudge onward to the Devil's Playground loop. One of the few snowy, but runnable places as always, was the descent into the playground. The snow was just powdery enough and the hill just steep enough that I found myself able to "ski" down the hill in good time. However, when we reached the bottom and it was back to the slow grinding. At this point however, I was finding my first wind and was beginning to trudge more quickly than I had up until that point, enabling me to overtake a runner in front of me who had initally put some good distance between us. The playground itself was very snowy, which made the climbing over and through the rocks somewhat slick and treacherous. On the way out of the loop was the race bib hole-punch to prove that you actually braved the loop. Normally, the hole punch is a good way to work out your frustrations and punch your bib 5 or 10 or 50 times. However, this puncher kept getting caught on my bib and I could only punch the bib three times before leaving more frustrated than how I arrived. Stupid puncher.

After the long climb out of the Playground, we came on the Skeleton Trail, which shockingly was probably the easiest part of the course. It was still very snowy and post-holey, but unlike every other year, it was actually more shallow than the rest of the course. I continued to gain pace and (not sure how this works) get stronger as the race went on, which allowed me to catch Mark, another Trudge regular, on the Skeleton. And we kept Trudging. The course exited the Skeleton trail and started approaching what is normally the finish line. In an act that proved that I had destroyed all my remaining brain-cells, I started really picking up pace in preperation for my traditional kick into the finish line. As I approached the finish line, the course hung a right at what I know as "Flip A Bird" or Wanker Rock. It was that point where it reoccured to me... "We have a new finish line. I've been kicking 4 miles out. DAMMIT!!!"

This was the start of the new course section meant to replace the roads and connect one end of the course to the other. I hit the "Unmanned Aid Station" and rested 5-10 minutes with Ted and Brandon. When I saw Mark coming out through the trees, I figured it was time to get back up and proceed into the woods. The next several miles returned to an unrunnable state with deep snow and, as I found out afterwards, no actual trail- just trees with flags on them. I slogged on, jumped a barbwire fence, slogged on some more, and then finally hit the road we started on, which meant .4 miles to finally resting. I crossed the finish line in 3hrs, 50min, and 15sec completely exhausted. 2010's Trudge was nowhere near as bad as 2008 was, but at the same time it was far more difficult than any of the other Trudges. But that's one of the fun things about the Trudge- it can be on the same course year-in and year-out, but it will almost never be the same race. I know some people were disappointed by the loss of the roads because of the loss of some of the only places that are guarenteed running areas, but I felt the course restructure was perfect and played perfectly into one of the Trudge's strengths: being not only a physical challenge, but a mental one. I have never been in a race that short where I come out so mentally exhausted afterwards, and I've never been in a run that became that mentally trying that quickly. The removal of the roads and the addition of the trail-free trudges helps increase that challenge. I'm sure that as long as the Trudge is going on, you'll be able to find me at that starting line.

So... thanks Alec for putting on a great, awful run as always. Thanks Kathy, Ted, Brandon, Jeff, and any other volunteer who I forgot/ don't know for helping put this event on. Congrats to all of this year's survivors and congrats to Brian for getting his 5 year jacket as well (why do we do this to ourselves?!?)

"Twin Mountain Trudge's new motto... 'The Trudge really isn't good training for anything, except for maybe an escape from a Siberian labor camp.'."- Alec Muthig, Race Director

June 21, 2009- Big Horn 30k

Another Big Horn 30k in the books… what to say about this year’s edition? For the second year in a row, I started the year signed up for the 50k, but an injury once again shot that out of the water. I started off with a phenomenal January and February of training, including my first 100 mile month ever, only to misalign my cuboid bone on the last day of February. Battled that for most of March only to begin developing tendonitis in one and then both knees. Finally got that all sorted out only to battle motivation issues, which means I spent the last two to three months building up to the race doing… well… almost nothing.

We jumped on the bus at Scott Park in Dayton at 8am to get shipped up to the start, and started the day on a somewhat humorous note. During the trip to the start, one guy asked the bus driver to pull over so he could take a leak, and she obliged. The guy jumped off the bus, and then almost half of the guys on the bus jumped off for the same purpose. So, we had the entire side of the bus lined with leaking runners because they couldn’t wait for the start, but the joke was on them- the bus turned the next corner, and sure enough, there was the starting line.

The day started off very warm right from the get-go. Normally there are lots of people in jackets trying to stay warm until they start running, but this morning, everyone was in t-shirts trying to stay cool. My goal for the day was to beat my first year; about 4:20 with a lot of suffering. We started off at 10am to hit the trails. I felt tired when we started on the dirt roads, but as soon as we hit the trails, it was almost like I was in my element… I hit the trails and just started moving, my body loosened up and I was able to just let go. Even on the uphills, I was feeling strong. I made it to the first aid station, 5 miles, in almost exactly an hour, which was almost the perfect pace in my mind. I got down there, stocked up on food and electrolytes, and got a move back on.

The Haul, as always, sucked but didn’t seem to be as hard as it normally feels some years. I made it up the Haul and at the top, there were wildflowers everywhere. I began the decent down into the canyon, and my knees started hurting almost right away. I didn’t slow up though, figuring that my knees would be killing me by the bottom regardless of how fast I hit that hill, so I might as well make up as much time as I can before I need to slow down. I was surprised at the trail conditions… there were some normally dry places that were wet and muddy, and then there were some normally wet places that were bone-dry. There were lots of very, very hot and humid areas along that downhill, which made things tough at times. I rolled down the hill at a pretty good pace, catching a lot of people, but by the bottom I was just flat out tired. I was lightheaded, and my entire body just slowed down.

How I always feel at the top of the Haul. All that's missing is some tear stains or maybe a streak of vomit off my beard.

I refilled my water, changed socks, ate a little bit, and got moving again. I was absolutely lethargic, the balls of my feet were killing me, and I was starting to get really hot due to not wearing enough sunscreen. I traveled the canyon trail at anything but a break-neck speed, rarely even breaking a walk. There was also the issue of the canyon itself being so damned hot, and the breeze was rarely there longer than mere seconds. Made it to the trailhead aid station about on time (planned on 12:30-1, ended up there at 1:15), rested, ate a bit more, and then got moving again.

By the dirt road, I was 100% out of gas. I walked nearly the entire way until the last half-mile, I was in a lot of pain, and I simply had nothing left. Ran the last half mile, though I started cramping up for the first time that race, which might have had something to do with me switching from 2 electrolyte tablets to one the previous time. Made it across the finish line in 4:50. 30 minutes slower than my target, but still 1 hour faster than the previous year.

Crossing the finish line

So, what to say about this year? To be honest, I really don’t care. I think I need to find a new adventure to challenge myself with. Last year, I proved that I could do this 30k with no training whatsoever, and this year there was no excitement or pride in finishing this. I know I can do this. I know I can do this by doing nothing but showing up. And, for one reason or another, finishing this race doesn’t make me proud anymore. It’s a great race, and they really do take care of you, but I don’t feel a sense of accomplishment with the 30k anymore. I can be suffering as much as I want, but ultimately there is only one logical conclusion to this race- the only force capable of keeping me from the finish is possibly injury. There was some discussion between my mom and I on our way to Sheridan that maybe this is why my motivation crashed so hard- I had to make a change from the 30k to the 50k and my ambition just died. Maybe I’ll feel differently tomorrow or a few days or weeks from now, but right now I just don’t care.

To end on a happier note, thank you Marie for showing up to the finish line to say hi. I definitely wasn’t expecting you, and it was a nice surprise to find you waiting there. Definitely a good end to an otherwise ‘blah’ day. It was good to see you and I’m glad you seem to be feeling better. :-)

May 30, 2009- Pilot Hill 25K

Today, I ran my very first Pilot hill 25km race in Laramie, a race known for being the oldest foot race in Wyoming. To quote my current status, I have lost my Pilot Hill virginity. However, Pilot Hill, or as Alec and Kathy have dubbed it, Pirate Hill was not the kind, gentle lover you would hope for, especially for a first time. In fact, I will go so far to say that, in true pirate form, it raped and pillaged my village.

Pilot Hill is a 25k (~15.5ish mile) race that occurs just east of Laramie. It involves running up the hill for which it is named after and back down, which ends up being approximately 1500 feet of elevation change in just one direction. Lots of single track or 4-wheeler trails, with very pretty rocky sections.

It was a very nice day overall. It didn't start really getting too warm until the end of the return trip down the mountain. The race started at 8am this morning with about 42 people toeing the line. It was a good day for running with little to no wind blowing. I had to laugh before the start looking at everyone... There i was with a big backpack with my camelbak in it, and when I looked around, most people were carrying single water bottles or nothing at all. I guess I've forgotten how to do some of these "shorter" races, huh? haha. We started off, and I spent the first two or so miles running with Brandon. Even though we were going my pace, I could definately tell that I was and was going to pay for the lack of running that has been occurring in recent months. Right out from the gates, I was feeling tired and a mite strained. Eventually, Brandon broke off and started to run his own race, while I stayed in the back and trudged along.

Things were going fairly smoothly as I alternated between running as much as I could and walking. I reached aid station 2 to find Ted and Johnna working. it was amazing how even just by that point in the race, you could see a prominant altitude difference from where we started. It certainly didn't feel like that much of a change. We hung out and talked a bit, and just as I was getting moving, the first pack of runners were coming in crazy-fast. It had only been an hour and twenty, and they were already done with most of the race. As they flew into the finish. I started my long haul up the hill, where most of the climbing and descending would take place.

In true Tom form, the longer the race went, the stronger I felt. I was running up more and more hills and resting less. Unfortunately, my right hip and left knee were taking major poundings and were making sure I was aware of their opinion of this whole adventure. Near the top, I started to notice my major issue of the race, consisting of my right calf tightening up and trying to cramp every time I tried running. It wasn't too bad during the ascent, and this being the first time I've ever had cramping problems while running, I wasn't overly concerned. I reached the top to find Alec, Kathy, and another runner named Mary. It was a great view from the top of the mountain looking back down on Laramie. That was the perfect vantage point to see exactly how far we had climbed. After chatting with alec and Kathy for a bit, it was time to start working my way back to the start. Unfortunately, things started to fall apart nearly immediately. My calf began seriously cramping to the point where I was limited to a walk. It was frustrating as the descents are usually where I'm at my best and can make up lots of time, but I couldn't do anything. I gingerly plodded down the hill, occassionally increasing my pace to a run for a short period before the cramps stopped me.

I made it back down to the bottom of the hill to Ted's and Johnna's aid station. I hung out there a bit again trying to stretch out, and Ted fortunately had some electrolytes (for those unfamiliar with it, think of them as anti-cramp crap). I downed an entire bag, and tried to get moving again. Eventually, the cramps stopped, and I was left with new problems: exhaustion and very sore feet from my rock-hard insoles. When the cramps weren't stopping me, my feet were. I walked for a long period before I started strong-arming myself into running to the next flag, then walking to the next flag after that, though even that wore me back down to the point of only walking.

Finally, after 4 hours, 14 minutes, 26 seconds, and forcing myself to run the last half mile to a mile, I finally made it into the finish. Overall, it was a neat race with some very pretty views, but it was a monster. I am definately feeling pretty beaten down. I'm sure it's a race I will do again though, with any luck with more training under my belt. Hopefully, if I take the next couple of weeks pretty easy, this won't effect my 30k very much.

Next adventure: Big Horn 30k in 3 weeks!

Jan 23, 2009- Twin Mountain Trudge

January 17, 2009 I completed my fourth Twin Mountain Trudge, lovingly nicknamed the Winter Death March. This year to that point, we had a very mild winter with little snow. This promised easier conditions compared to most year, particularly the epic known as Trudge 2008. The day of the race was marvelous. The sun was out, there was a tiny bit of wind (most of it was a tailwind), and the race was a balmy mid-to-high 30's. Because of the improved race conditions, the race had doubled it's previous most participants with 32 racers. We even had a pair of pretty elite runners, including Phil Kochik, who has won many trail ultras and came in top-5 at the very competitive Western States 100mile race. After the usual pre-race briefing, threats and warnings, Alec let us lose with a surprising, "Is everybody ready? Ok. Go."

Right off the bat, it was a huge improvement over last year. Blair Rd, which was a snowy hell-hole of narrow truck tracks and ice last year, was almost entirely clear this go around. We all quickly ascended Blair Rd and worked our way to the start of the trails, the former location of the buck rail fence (how the fuck does the forest service lose an entire fence? I mean seriously?!? Okay, off topic...). Another big improvement over last year was the trails at the beginning. Rather than sinking crotch deep into snow, most of the trails on top were pretty runnable.

Once we got off the trails briefly and back onto the forest roads, we encountered a minor problem of some ATVers and bubba-truckers taking the course markings. Fortunately, only two people got lost, but they quickly got turned back around and back onto the course. Unfortunately, the ATVer didn't limit themselves to the roads. They then proceeded to follow the actual course (through the middle of the woods no less) and strip markings. They wrecked a pretty nice and almost untouched trail, and went over single track trails, where they damaged foliage on either side of the trail. Fortunately, we were all able to stay on the trail and no one got lost in the woods, which obviously could have ended badly if someone did get off in there.

The Unmanned Aid Station (ironically manned by Brandon and Ted) was approximately the half way point. Up until there, the course was relatively easy compared to the previous years. However, the back half of the course would get more difficult. We started on everybody's favorite location, the Fenceline Climb. Interestingly enough, the fenceline climb seems to get easier every year. It was nowhere near as miserable as usual. We trudged along for a while in shin deep snow, until we hit the decent into Devil's Playground.

There, the snow went up to about your knee, but it was steep enough that the decent was like skiing without skis! That was definitely a favorite part of mine; just kinda gliding down the side of the mountain, weaving between trees and dodging rocks. From there, we went along a little further with some shin-deep patches and other completely clear patches. Devil's Playground loop was pretty clear compared to normal years, especially when we got to play in the rocks :-D

Skeleton Trail, holding true to its name

After the climb out of Devil's Playground (which actually gets tougher every year it seems), we moved on to the Skeleton Trail. Skeleton, which ironically had a fresh deer kill skeleton right on the course, was tough with consistently shin deep sections. Skeleton is always tough for me because so many places look the exact same. So, if I don't remember , "Ok, we go down two steep hills" or ,"The trail 'S'es three times" then I always think I am near the end, and am always disappointed to find that it isn't ending.

Skeleton Trail was a fight, but the home stretch from the fence on was a snow free straight shot. I flew along the trails with a great deal of excitement, if for no other reason than to be off that damned mountain! I came across the finish line in 3:40, which was 10 minutes off of my target time, but still 2 hours faster than 2008. Considering that I only had 2 weeks of training under my belt at that time, I couldn’t be too upset though. Ragan Driver won the 11 mile classic Trudge in 1:51 with Brian Martisius hot on his tail in 1:54. After Nick Clark and Phil Kochik decided that the conditions were too nasty to race each other, they co-won the 22 mile marathon trudge in 3:43. It is also worth noting that their first loop time was 23 seconds off the 11 mile speed record time! Holy crap!

Finally coming to a stop

Every year, the Trudge is turning into an annual test that I look forward to. It isn’t about getting across the finish line in a certain time, it’s about crossing the finish line. It’s about putting yourself through hell, seeing what you can take, and hopefully coming out on the other side. Some years are more trying than others (*cough*2008*cough*), but they are all their own test of perseverance all the same. I am proud to be a 4 time finisher, and I look forward to continuing to finish the Trudge for however many more years I am in this part of the world. It is a great race that is ran and put on by great people, and while it can fail to be fun at times, it is definitely a valuable running experience.

Below is the new face of the Trudge, Brian. This picture represents the everything the Trudge stands for, and in particular, the seeming mental instability of the returning racers. Brian is also a 4-year survivor.

Brian Martisius, displaying all the sanity one would expect from a several-time finisher of the Trudge.

June 30, 2008- 24hr of Laramie, "The Mad Mountain Masochists rode again..."

This past weekend was the second (hopefully) annual 24 Hours of Laramie relay and solo race. I made a team for it again this year, the Mad Mountain Masochists. The Triple M's this year consisted of myself, Brian (the only other returnee this time), Bishop, and Alec and Kathy Muthig. This year, we tried to have a 6-10 man team, unfortunately we lost 2 people to injury and 3 people to money. Once again, the goal was to just try and keep someone moving at all times.

The weather was pretty nice, got a little warm during the main part of the day, but it wasn't down right intolerable. So, we started off, with me, then Alec, and then Brian. I clocked in at 80 minutes, with the other two coming in between 50 and 55 minutes. Unfortunately, Brian immediately hurt himself and was done for the day. Alec and Kathy had to leave at that point to go to a wedding for 7 hours. This left Bishop and I to take care of the team for that period. I was getting slower during that time, going as fast as 90 minutes, and as slow as 125-130 minutes. Bishop, on the other hand, was getting plenty of time to rest up and blast each of his laps. He was getting twice as much rest as he was running, and I was getting the exact opposite... half as much time rest as I was spending out on the course.

That was taking its toll, and I was crashing hard. I went out each time I needed to, but I was feeling worse, and I was drinking and eating a lot less than I should have been. By the time Alec and Kathy returned, I was entirely out of it and in no condition to go back out. They also brought Brian back, who opted to be our drunk mascot (ironically, he wasn't all that drunk either, haha). Bishop, who swiftly recovered from a twisted ankle his previous lap, went out as soon as I arrived back, followed Kathy, Alec, and then Bishop again. I was unfortunately getting worse and I spent the rest of the evening in the tent. It was likely dehydration and a lack of calories, but I was layered up and was getting extremely cold.

I was wandering around when Bishop arrived back, and at that point, Alec and Kathy were asleep, and I was still in pretty lousy condition, so Bishop and I decided it was punting time. Bishop went home and I just tried to warm back up. By morning, Alec was still crashed, though Kathy and I were up. I was still not feeling well, so Kathy went out to get one more lap.

When all was said and done, I had 10 less miles than last year, and the team had about 30 less, but it was a tough weekend, and we did the best we could under tough circumstances. Fortunately, we had far less people hurt themselves this year. Unfortunately, last year we had a minimum of three people at all times, and this year, we had that long stretch of just two of us. I think another big problem I had was the fact that I had gotten very little training in before due to my long injury stretch, and that the Big Horn 30k was the previous weekend. I know I was dubious yesterday, but without fail, I will undoubtedly assemble another team. In fact, I've kind of already been moved into position to assemble another team for the 24 hours of boulder race in october. So, we'll have to see if I can start feeling good again, and then recruit a bunch of crazies for the next big adventure. Though I must say that I'm growing tired of racing this year. I've only done three races, and they've all been resolve testers. As much fun as all that "I've come out a bigger man for surviving" crap is, I really don't need that sort of validation that frequently.

Ah well, like I said: I complain now, but the next big thing that comes along, I'll be there.

June 22, 2008- Big Horn 30K, "So I survived again..."

Well, here I am 29 hours after finishing my third Big Horn 30km run. Ho. Ly. Crap.

I don't know if I provided any background in my last post, and I'm too lazy to go back and check, so I'll cover it (or re-cover it) here. This year, I was supposed to do the Big Horn 50k race. However, due to an unfortunate series of injuries starting with the development of a stress fracture on a road 10k last October, I wasn't able to get any training in. So, I dropped back down to the 30k, and figured that hiking the course would be easy enough.

So, we get to the starting line and are waiting to begin. It was a pretty warm day, and rather pleasant, though it did give indications that it would soon get too hot. We started off, and I found it was kind of neat to be in the back because I could see the long train of people going along the trail. In the beginning, I was feeling pretty good, and was looking forward to it. The course was pretty wet, and extremely green, which is kind of an oddity around this state. There was a lot of very muddy sections on the course, and the water crossings were very wide this year. So, I was going along for a while, all fine and dandy, and then we reached The Haul.

The Haul- so innocent looking when you're nowhere near it.

The Haul was a giant hill in the middle of the course that gained almost 1000' in definitely less than half a mile, and possibly about a quarter of a mile. I felt bad for any first time Big Horn runners. The Haul looked so green; so innocent. No one would have suspected it of being a killer if they hadn't escaped it before. Anyways, this year it was abnormally tough, and I've heard similar complaints from others. Normally, I can power-house up it, but this year, I had to stop fairly frequently and rest. I was still doing better than nearly everyone else around me, but I was getting pounded none the less. When I finally got up, it was a nice little summit, and then across and below it was green fields and mountains covered with wild flowers. Very purdy. We started the decent there.

The downhill was my downfall. My target was still to go slow and reserve my energy for the long flat end. However, trying to keep the brakes on the entire way down was a killer. It was four miles of never ending, single-track trail downhill. By the time I hit the bottom, my feet were giant hot spots, my knees were shot, and I was exhausted. In hindsight, I should have just gone with the flow because trying to keep myself slow the whole time cost me far more energy than it saved.

So, I hiked out of the bottom aid station through a canyon overlooking a river. It was a great sight this year, and the river was moving much faster. I was still trashed and moving slowly. By the time I hit the trailhead aid station (second to last aid station), I was ready to be done. I think my saving grace wa the fact that I had ran and completed that race twice before. I wasn't ready to let my first "Did Not Finish" be on a hike. So, I rested for a bit, and pressed on. Since this was where the long flat finish started, I tried to run like I had planned. That lasted all of 30 seconds before I decided I was too tired for it. So, I continued to hike to the Homestretch aid station.

Home stretch was supposed to be 3 miles out from the trail head, but I'll be damned if it wasn't longer... a lot longer. That was the hardest part for me simply because it was so hot, feeling a lot longer than it should have been, and it was kind of getting disheartening. My hot spots were getting hotter too. I finally reached homestretch and had to sit down and rest for a bit. I had zero intention of quitting less than two miles out, but the aid station captain had definitely gone to those aid station seminars I had heard about. At first she was telling me that if I sat down, I probably wasn't going to be getting back up (how dare she question my already challenged resolve! haha), but I sat down anyways because I needed it. After a few minutes, she then changed to " You've only got x-number of minutes and then I'm getting you up and out." Apparently, the longer I sit there, the more likely I was to change my mind about finishing.

So, I got up and left. I kept hiking because I was still too tired and hot to go. I was hobbling pretty good, and it was getting tough because I could literally feel every single rock under my shoe, especially where I was growing the blisters. Being on a dirt road, this meant that there was a lot of rocks to feel. Through out the entire dirt road, I do believe I was losing my mind. I started off just generally talking to myself; things like, "You've done this before. You can't quit." or "You've come too far to give up." Then I started trying to sing to myself to keep myself distracted. But I realized that at that very moment, I could only remember bits and pieces to three songs. So, I kept singing those bits over and over again, with occasional defiant talk mixed in. Finally, after passing homestretch, I ended up resorting to a mantra... which I don't remember.

Anyways, I kept on like that for a while, and finally, I saw pavement, which meant that I was almost on top of the finish line. I don't know where I got it, but I somehow dug deeper and started running. I must say that it was a pretty impressive pace considering my condition. I was running, and finally saw the finish line, where I kept going. Somewhere in all of that I started crying too. When I crossed the finish line, I said it was because of the pain, but I wasn't hurting any more than I was before. I think it was just a symptom of losing my mind. So, I finished in 5.57ish, but I finished, which was all that was important.

Survived another one.

At that time, I said I was done with the Big Horns. I'm all ready planning for next year. I said that I should probably be done with racing for the year, since I've only done two races, and both of which challenged my resolve severely, which gets old after a while. I already have planned a race for next week, a race for August, and a marathon for either september or october (which, if anyone is really bored, I may need a crew for).

It was a tough race, but I finished, which sometimes all that can be done. These tough races are definitely my element, but a little bit of training never hurts before hand. I'm still walking (very) funny, still got blisters, and probably shouldn't sit down if I intend to get back up. So, that's my epic tale for the year. Within the next few days, I should have some neat pictures up. So, I will see you all around!

Feb 24, 2008- Twin Mtn Trudge, "Wow... The Twin Mountain Trudge earned it's nickname, the..."

...Winter Death March

Yesterday was Twin Mountain Trudge 2008. As many of you remember, I was pretty stoked to go out and do this, because it has always been one of my favorite winter events, and this year looked to be a little more difficult than past years. Well, it turned out to be a very defining event.

As I had said previously, the snow has been really bad in the mountain outside of Laramie this year. As such, there was no aid station, and we got an extra mile added on because we couldn't reach the start line. Alec, the race director, sent out several emails to let everyone know exactly how bad the conditions were. Because of the emails, the race group was cut in half compared to previous years; now a 10 man crew. At 9:20, we were released into the wild...

Right off the bat, the course was already more difficult than usual. The first mile or two of the course were dirt roads, and they were completely covered in a deep snow. However, the snow was easy to break through, so if you weren't in a bubba-trucker track, you were immediately post-holing. So, between sinking in the snow, and the inherent slickness of the tracks, it was slow goings immediately. And that was the easy part.

Once we got off the roads and onto the trails, we found out exactly how much snow the mountains had gotten. To quote Brian, winner of the race, "God, it was ball-deep!" And that it was. The snow was at least waist deep for a most part, and it was very easy to fall through. I know for me personally, I was take a step, and that leg fell through clear up to my groin, and the other leg would be pointing off in some crazy angle. With the free leg, I would then proceed to attempt and step forward. And it would be crotch deep. So, I would be forced to drag myself out of the drift, and crawl for a few feet to get clear. There, I would stand up slowly, take a step, and sink again. Thus is the story of the trudge. For the first quarter of the race, there were some runnable parts, but from then on, almost all of it was unrunnable. It was a hike at best, and a crawl at worst.

And balls deep it was.

By the halfway mark, I was wasted. I had completed it in 2 hours and 10 minutes (remember that number, it'll come into play later) and the post-holing and hiking through the snow had completely taken it out of me. Not only that, but my soaz/ hip problem started flaring back up. Which was very fortunate, because the second half of the race is where the deep snow was frequent, and all the major altitude changes occurred.

So, I proceeded on, but was gradually slowing down and suffering more and more. Physically, I was drained and I was cracking mentally. The tree line climb, the major climb of the race, had a ton of snow. Post holing up hill was not a fun experience. It had reached a point after the Devil's Playground Loop, any rock that was next to the course and in the sunlight, I had to stop and sit on for 4-5 minutes. Beyond the Devil's loop, the trail had leveled out for the most part, but the snow was still very deep, and far less broken than the rest of the course. I'm sure some of you understand what breaking trail for a long period of time is like.

So much snow...

Mentally, I was at losing it because my body felt like it was shutting down on me. I had actually reached a point where I decided to lie down on a rock, and wait for the medical sweeps to find me. Fortunately, that lasted about 20minutes. When I finally finished the race, I was completely trashed. I picked myself a lawn chair and didn't move for an hour. I came in at 5 hours and 30minutes, meaning I took 3 hours and 20minutes for the second half. It's probably a good thing Kathy didn't get any pics of me crossing the finish, as I'm pretty sure I was the poster-child for being an unhappy camper.

Someone went and got their ass beat.

A day later, 22 hours after finishing, and after a long discussion with Alec, I can look back on this race and actually say something meaningful. Trudge '08 was a one of a kind event. There was no place else in the nation where you could have those conditions and that sort of terrain in one place. Brian, the guy who always begged Alec for a 33mile version of the Trudge, refused to go out for the second loop. Mark, one of the racers and an ultra-marathoner who's ran races across the nation, said that he hasn't bonked that hard in a race in three years! This was the most difficult thing I had ever done; it was even more difficult than the 30k race I didn't train for!

An "ultra-race" is usually defined as a race that is longer than a marathon (26.2 miles) or is done under extraordinary, or ultra, conditions/ circumstances. Every one agreed that this was an ultra-race. Those were conditions never before seen in that particular race, and it was definitely in hostile terrain. And the fact that ten runners stepped up for the challenge and ten runners came across the finish line was incredible.

For the ten of us who completed Trudge '08, it will mean something very different and special for the rest of us. Trudge on a normal year is difficult, but this wasn't a normal year. Every last one of us earned our finish time. There are no words to adequately describe what we went through out there, but the ten of us, Alec, and Perry (one of the medical sweeps who did the whole thing afterwards) will all know what this meant for us.

Was it fun? Fuck no; not in any sense of the word was it "fun."

Was it worth it? Yes, I would say so. I saw how far I could push myself yesterday, and I came out, physically and mentally, a stronger runner and person for it. To paraphrase Alec, no matter how difficult any of my races are in the future, I can always look back and say, "Get up you sissy! You completed Trudge '08, and this is nothing!"

So, in conclusion, congrats to all the runners this year, and congrats to Brian for setting a new 11 mile course record in 2 hours and 50 minutes. (I know, some of you are curious how he set a record if conditions are as bad as I said they were. The way this course decides records is the time of the slowest winner gets the record. This is because they assume that if the winner time was slower, the conditions were worse.). Now, for a little treat, I will present you with some of the post race quotes from the racers and volunteers

Brian- "It's awful!"

Mark? -"God, I hate this..."

Me- "Two years ago, I did the Big Horn 30km race, but didn't train for it. That was 1000x more pleasant than this years trudge was. I'm not sure who has more issues... the masochist who shows up for this every year, or the sadist who puts this on every year."

Perry- "Every dead person I saw, I ate. Great run!"

Ted (Another volunteer)- "Judging by how beat everyone was, I may change my mind about next year!!!"

CONGRATS AGAIN TO EVERYONE!!

July 2, 2007- 24 Hours of Laramie, "New Adventure"

How are you all doing?? Well, it's time for another "some of you wanted to know how I did, but I'm too lazy to find who you are, so everyone in my address list gets to find out" email. And, for better or for worse, this race gets its own full-blown story, so sorry ahead of time. This past Saturday and Sunday, I was part of a team for the 24 Hours of Laramie, a 24 hour relay up in the Happy Jack Rec area. We were the Mad Mountain Masochists, and our members were:

myself
Micah Franke from Cheyenne
Derek Mitchum from Laramie
Paul "Pablo Diablo" Herald formerly from Cheyenne
Brian from Laramie.
The race began at 9 am Saturday, and as of 6:30 Friday evening, only three of us were signed up to run for MMM. Micah and I had been working on assembling the team for three months and our population ranged from a full 5 man team to the two of us at various times, fortunately a group I run with, the WARTs (Wyoming Adventure Running Team), pointed me towards Derek, who was more than willing to join in on our fun and games. Micah and I camped out at the base camp the Friday before to avoid having to rush around Saturday morning.

The race started at Pole Creek camp ground. It was a 5.8 mile course, which included a 1.6 mile climb of 725 feet out in the middle of the woods. There were 3 all-women 5-person teams, and many soloists and 100 milers running. I was the first out of the gates, followed by Micah then Derek. We all ran very well our first legs, and were thoroughly enjoying it. During the second cycle, Brian arrived, who was initially planning to run the 24 hour solo category, but due to illness, chose not to. However, he was feeling good enough to join our team. We had no objections, as it would mean a fresh set of legs and an extra hour of rest.

We continued on throughout the afternoon, running well even through the frequent climbs back up the mountain, and the increasing heat. Paul, who was one of the first to receive an invitation to join the team but had to refuse at the time, was camping in the area, and came down to visit. After several hours of chilling and hanging out, Paul became slightly jealous and also joined the team, which was fortunate. As Pablo was signing up, Derek came back from his third leg, having twisted his knee slightly. Due to this, he sat the rest of the race out to avoid making it worse. As we proceeded through the evening, I was sent out on the first leg that we were required to carry light, and I needed it about half way through the trip.

Coming out of that leg, I was feeling very good, but we suffered our next casualty right after that. Micah got the first completely dark leg, and on the homestretch, he was moving a little fast for not being able to see, and he sprained his ankle a little bit. He was able to finish the leg in good time as well, but he ended up sitting the rest out as well.

Brian and Pablo went out on their legs without incident, and it was back to me. However, by that point, I was starting to have problems myself. Physically, I was fine, but mentally, I was wearing out. I went out on my lap slowly, but by the time I reached the midway aid station, I completely broke down. I don't know if it was the fact that I was still tired from Big Horn 2 weeks earlier, the stress of trying to assemble the team, the fact that my team was falling apart, the pressure I was putting on myself to go faster as I was consistently going 10-20 minutes slower than the next slowest person on the team, or a combination of all these, but I literally got to the top of climb and completely broke down on those guys.

As many of you guys probably know, I usually don't take pride about most things I do, but I had always taken some level of pride in the fact that I was always mentally strong enough to get through near anything, including things I probably shouldn't be pushing myself through. Probably the most unsettling thing when I reached the aid station was the fact that I wasn't sure if I could push myself through anymore. At that moment, I was completely done with the race. However, one of my major saving grace was the fact that a WART named Perry was manning that station, and he helped me a lot. He sat there and just talked me through it all for about 15-20 minutes. Finally, I wasn't feeling great, but I was feeling good enough to at least finish the loop. I hiked the rest of the way back to base camp by 2am, and slept until about 5, not really planning on doing anything else.

By morning, Micah and Derek were still resting and recovering, and both Brian and Pablo were completely trashed (trashed as in exhausted... what were you thinking it meant?!?) and calling it good for the weekend. Again, I physically still had more laps in me, but mentally, I wasn't sure if I was ready to go back out there. However, my second saving grace came along. Alec, another WART (and
the crazy man who designed the course), talked me into going out one more time. He got me pumped
up with a cup of cola, and by 7 we were off to conquer the trail again. Alec kept me talking and distracted the whole way, and as we jogged/ hiked the course, I was feeling better and better. Probably the high point of the whole loop was reaching the aid station and seeing Perry was still there, and excited to see me making another round. We proceeded to the base camp, and crossed the line with about 40 minutes before the cut off time.

Though, it wasn't known at the time, but the final lap was actually number 18 (I was told 17 before I left to do it), and that put the team over 100 miles (104.4 to be exact). We even came across before one of the girl's teams (with 104.4 also) by about 20 minutes. In the end, I had ran 6 laps, and was able to anchor the team in at the finale. In conclusion, this may have not been the smartest thing I have ever done with the Big Horn previously, and the fact the team wasn't very well organized on my end, but it was an experience I wouldn't trade for anything else. It was mostly a fun time, definitely a good learning experience, and something I look forward to participating in somehow in the future. Again, sorry this was so long, but this was just something that couldn't be described or talked about without the accompanying story.

Oh, one last thing-
Thanks you to Bishop and Foot of the Rockies for footing (no pun intended) part of the bill, thanks to Micah, Derek, Brian, and Pablo for joining this crazy little experiment, though I don't think any of us were quite sure what we were jumping into, thank you Alec and Perry for not letting me give up, you two were the ones who really saved my butt (and I probably would have been kicking myself in hindsight if I had quit with out going out one more time), and for those of you who made it down this far, thank you for taking several hours out of your day to read this.

June 17, 2007- Big Horn 30K... "Survivor"

There won't be a wake for me this month. I'm currently writing this in a Holiday Inn in Sheridan, WY after the Big Horn 30km (18.64 miles) trail run. I figured I would drop you all a line since some of you wanted to know how it went. The weather was great and it was a lot of fun. On the hour long bus ride from Dayton (finish line) to the start in the middle of nowhere, up a giant mountain, we spent the first half of the trip in a thick fog. After about half an hour, we got above the fog, and as we looked down the mountain, it was a thick cloud bank for miles in every direction except up at us.
The actual race was wonderful, with great weather and a cool breeze.? At the highest points, we were above the clouds, and at the lowest points, we were running beneath them. Like last year, the aid stations were completely stocked with sandwiches, candy, water, energy gels, wraps, shrimp, soda, beer, and a whole myriad of other things you wouldn't expect to be fed in the middle of a race. There were tons of water crossings and giant, deep mud puddles during the race from the recent rains, making it very slick. It was a long, technical, fairly difficult run, but it all worked out. My goal
was to break 4 hours this year. I beat last year's time by 25 minutes and my goal by 4 minutes with a 3 hour, 56 minutes, and 20 seconds run. I felt very good, and didn't crash this time (last year, I bonked at the 2nd to last aid station, leading to the longest, most painful 5 miles I've ever ran.). I'm also feeling better than last year, as I'm not sore yet (emphasis on yet.). However, I'm looking forward to being home and just resting now.

Happy Jack Endurance Races- "It'll be a walk in the park..."

"... A very scary park filled with monsters that are trying to kill me."

My first "real" entry into the blog! This weekend (July 13-14), I volunteered at and then participated in the Happy Jack Endurance Races. The Happy Jack Endurance Races takes place in the mountains outside of Laramie, WY and has several categories: a 6hr race, 12hr race, 24hr race, and a 100 mile race. The two longer time races also have the options to run them solo or in teams of varying sizes. It is a 6-mile looped course with one aid station at the 3 mile mark and basecamp acting as a full aid station as well. Racers go out onto the course, run the loop, check in at the timing table at basecamp, and then return to the course when they're ready to get their next loop.

This year's events attracted a combined 67 individuals, including over 30 people on various teams. The 12hr, 24hr, and the 100 mile races all started at 9am in the morning. I spent the day working at basecamp, mostly in a timing capacity, but also working where ever they needed an extra set of hands. The day was largely pretty easy. It rained the entire night before the race, but it ended up being a good day to run. The temperatures stayed fairly cool for a large chunk of the day, allowing the racers to put in some great efforts. The 24hr team competition was highly entertaining- throughout the entire weekend, they were very competitive with each other. At one point, all 4 teams had 50 miles and had checked into basecamp within 1 minute of each other. Though the teams slowly spread out, the battles between first and second and between third and fourth wouldn't be decided until the very end of the race.

In exchange for working Saturday and Sunday, I was allowed into the 6hr race, which ran from 6pm to midnight. Around 2:30, I was chased from the timing/ kitchen tent to relax for a bit and get ready for my race. Even though I was going into the event only wanting to do a 2 loop (12 mile) training run, I was slowly talking myself into doing 3 loops. While it would likely physically challenge me, I knew that I would have all the time in the world to do the third lap if I didn't completely screw up the first two. I also knew that it would potentially be a bad idea, but being the competitive bastard I am, I didn't want to just quit a race with lots of time left on the clock. I decided one big determining factor would be how my shins felt. They had bothered the hell out of me all week, and were still pretty sore when I jogged around camp that day. I decided if they weren't happy after two laps, I'd can the third one.

With over three hours left until the race, I wasted a lot of time and slowly got ready... change into my running clothes and then screw around a bit..... fill my camelback and screw around some more... line out my food and... well, you get the idea. Not the most efficient way of dealing with things, and I should have done a better job of getting ready in hindsight. By 5pm, I was still dawdling and trying to get my act together... and that's when the adventure began.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Mother Nature decided to unleash her fury on the Happy Jack Endurance Races course. The race was hit with a torrential onslaught of rain and marble-sized hail. I had worked my way back to the main tent, and had to drop everything I was doing to try and get the tables away from the edge of the tent and protect the electrical equipment and boxes from the river that had started flowing right down the center of the tent. I tried to finish prepping for the race while still trying to help avert the next water-related disaster.

And in the blink of an eye, Mother Nature said, "Screw you all!!!"

Alec (race director), Wendy (not paying attention), and Kellie (I've given up trying to understand what she does)

By 5:45, the hail had stopped and the rain had lessened enough for Alec (race director) to feel OK sending the new racers out onto the course.  We had the pre-race meeting and were given a few more minutes for final prep. I ran into my first problem here.... I only had two jackets- an extremely light-weight wind breaker that wasn't remotely water proof and a rain jacket. I wanted my rain jacket, but I wanted something semi-warm and dry for when I got back. I opted for the windbreaker, hoping that a little protection was better than nothing and that I'd be moving fast enough to keep warm.

We were sent onto the course at 6pm, with our first lap going clockwise. The first 1.5 miles was largely runnable. The rain was still coming down fairly hard, but nothing like the down-pour 30 minute prior. I realized that my race day adrenaline was getting to me and I was hauling ass faster than I should have been. I felt good, but the GPS had me moving at nearly 7mph, or way too fast for a fatboy to sustain for very long. However, the course didn't give me a chance to correct myself... right about the time I noticed how fast I was going, I reached the start of the long climb.

Doing the loop clockwise involves climbing a 1.6 mile trail called Haunted Forest. It is long, fairly steep and technical. And with the rain, it was a sloppy mess that frequently turned into a river. This slow trudge was likely the most frustrating part of the course for me. There were ankle-deep puddles several places on the climb that were easy to miss if you weren't paying attention and the trail had turned insanely slick. For one reason or another, I couldn't get any traction with my left foot and it kept slipping out from under me. The constant thunder was an added concern. I wasn't seeing very much lightning, but the thunder was directly overhead and certainly made me wonder exactly how much metal I had on me. To add to the frustration, it had been 5 years since I ran this course and I had forgotten how long this climb was. I hit 4 or 5 false summits where I was sure that I was done, only to see the trail continuing to climb higher and higher into the rain. I just wanted to get that climb done. This was about the point where I realized that during all the earlier madness, I had forgotten my gaiters and was accumulating a not-insignificant collection of rocks in my shoes. I knew the aid station was the top of the climb (where ever the hell that was), and figured I could empty my shoes when I stopped for food.

I reached the top of the top of the climb only to see that the racers weren't the only ones taken off-guard by the weather. The aid station workers, who didn't expect a cold rain, had taken shelter in their bug tent and didn't see me coming through. Between the missing staff and the soggy food selection, I decided to not stop. My rock collection hadn't progressed beyond being a nuisance yet and I was willing to take my chances with the old sports jelly beans I had in my pack. Now that we were at the top of the climb, it was a gradual, rolling descent back into basecamp. However, I ended up walking most of the first mile after the aid station due to my back hurting and being worn out from the long, slick climb. The puddles on the last half of the course were massive. I reached a point where I was going straight through all the puddles... between the rain and the puddles I accidentally hit earlier, my feet were already soaking wet and it wasn't worth the time or energy to try and get around the puddles anymore. Around mile 4, I was able to start running more consistently again and start making some time up. Being able to run kind of reenergized me and I was feeling better about everything. I made good progress and made it to basecamp in 1:28:39.

At this point, I felt physically decent, but was mentally frazzled. My dad, who was at the race to help my mom with the 6hr race, asked me what I needed. "I need to get out of these shorts, I need my gaiters, I need a piss, and I need some chili." None of this was stuff he could help me with, but my brain was buzzing and it's all I could think of saying. I left him with my pack as I ran off to take care of my other stuff. After stripping down to my compression shorts (my other shorts were insanely soggy and the weight was starting to pull them off my ass) and getting my gaiters, I got some chili, broke out my headlamp, and started out to do the loop in reverse. It was getting chilly enough that I really wanted my gloves, but they were in my pocket the entire first lap and were completely soaked.

The entire first half of the loop in this direction was a gradual, rolling climb. Even though it was a long walk, it was gradual enough of a climb that I was able to maintain a decent walking pace without too much suffering. If I were a better climber, I could have made some time up here, but I'm not quite there yet. The rain had stopped around this time and I was starting to feel pretty good again. I thought about how I recently lamented that I haven't ran in the rain in years, and how this wasn't what I had in mind. I laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing, and I just started having fun. I'm not sure what brought the change on, but I was moving easier and was enjoying where I was. It had turned into a beautiful evening in the woods, and you could see a rainbow and the mist over the mountain tops when there was a clearing in the trees.

When I reached the top of Haunted Forest, I just bombed down it. With the rain stopping, the descent wasn't half as treacherous as I was expecting, and I was able to start flying. I was bouncing off rocks, leaping tree roots, splashing through puddles, and just having an all-around good time. When I reached the bottom, it was starting to get pretty dark. If I wanted to do this lap in 90min, I had about 17 minutes to do 1.5 miles. If it were daylight, I think that I was feeling well enough to do it. However, the trail was just technical enough and my light was crappy enough that I really struggled to maintain a good pace at this point. I was feeling good, but I wasn't confident enough in the trail and my footing to blast into the camp in the dark.

I made it back to camp in 1:31:43, and in spite of much protest from some of the other racers and staff, I called it a night. On my way down Haunter Forest, I was thinking about going out for a third, and my decision to quit came down to three factors:

• My next loop would have been clockwise, which required climbing back up Haunted Forest again. Oh, fuck that.
• The second lap went great and I just finished the run feeling physically and mentally fantastic. If I go back out, I'm probably going to suffer a fair amount and not be a happy camper. No point in ruining that.
• And my strongest reason, at the end of the day, this was simply meant to be a training run disguised as a race. As it was, 12 miles was 70% greater than anything else I had done up to that point. Jumping straight from 7 miles to 18 miles as a training run would be serious overkill and could seriously derail what I was doing. I'm running consistently for the first time in 4 years and it would have been foolish to derail that by playing my usual games (because doing something stupid like that is not unusual).

Though I still had plenty of time and I physically felt like I could pull off a third lap, I was happy with my decision. It was a decision that I came to on my own and it just seemed like the smart thing to do. So, after tracking down some dry clothes and helping myself to some beer and food, I called it a night.

The next day, I got to watch the four 24hr teams finish their battles. After swapping position all night, the winner was able to overcome a 9 minute deficit to win on the final lap and the third place team was able to get one last loop in before the cutoff to keep their position. It was a fun battle to watch. Later in the day, we got to see our sole 100 mile racer post 4 straight negative splits to come in below the cutoff and complete his first 100 mile race.

Overall, it was a fun weekend. I enjoy working the races because I like giving back the assistance I've always received and it's interesting to see the experience from the other side. And the race turned into a better experience than I was expecting and a fantastic run in the end. The rain certainly made things more exciting than anyone was expecting, but that's all part of the adventure, right?

FIRST!!

I know, great title.... I've always prided myself on my creativity and originality.  Anyways, yes- this is my first post on the blog! I've been wanting to create one of these for a while, but I've never actually sat down to do it until tonight.

Good news for those of you who see me elsewhere on the Interwebs: this will not just be another place for my usual drivel- you get enough of that bullshit on Facebook. I may go off topic once in a while, but this will be 95% about running or race reports. I (occasionally) enjoy writing reports after races, and this has to be a better place for those thoughts than FB notes or emails. Besides, even us guys who only move 3-4mph occasionally come back with good stories, right? With me trying to get going and do more events, I figure that this will be as good of a time as any to finally start the blog up.

To those who just stumbled here and have no idea who the hell I am, I'm Tom. I'm from Wyoming and work in IT. I've ran for almost 10 years, though the last 4 have been pretty sketchy ever since having a pretty good injury in 2009. But I'm moving again in a semi-consistent fashion and looking forward to finding me fun/ stupid events to get back into.

Finish line of Antelope Dash 2011, Laramie, WY



I got into trail running 7 years ago and it's probably the sole reason I'm still trying to run. I'm an insanely competitive S.O.B. who was never fast enough to be good a road racing. This was a point of serious frustration to the point where I nearly quit running altogether. I found trail running and trail races, and not only was it more fun, but it was a "healthier" way to channel my competitive urges- unless you're one of the elite guys, trail racing isn't about trying to get across the finish line first; it's about who can cross the finish line at all. I have a soft spot in my heart for events that no sane person does (see reports for Twin Mountain Trudge), and look forward to being able to do more of those "fun" activities.

So yeah, that's pretty much all I got right now. As I have time, I'll work on adding some of my older race reports over so they're available for viewing!