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!!!"
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| 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).
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?
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