Absaroka Challenge 15K: Expectations are a dangerout thing

NOTE 1: This post in picture intensive, but they're all thumbnails. If you want to see any pic in more detail, click on it to embiggen.

NOTE 2: Towards the end, this may or may not start going on tangents or become less coherent. May even have become more of a stream of consciousness post than anything particularly organized or logical. That's what you get when I stay up until 1:45 trying to finish it.
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I've seen some pictures, a video, and a handful of vague, general descriptions of this race, but there is not a lot of material out there about the Absaroka Challenge 15K. Today I discovered why. I can only assume that the race director doesn't put much info out because then nobody would show up, and that the survivors are to traumatized to talk about what happened. Well, I survived and I'm here to tell the truth about this race.

In May, I helped work the Gemini Adventures Desert RATS, and during that week, I realized that never really go out and do anything. I decided that I need to get out and do more adventures, and the Absaroka Challenge is the first manifestation of that decision.  The Meeteetse Absaroka Challenge 15K is a race that I discovered online 7 or 8 years ago, but I've never had a chance to do it until now.

The descent goes from the highest point pictured and down the mountain to the left of the rock faces.

So, I hopped in my car on Friday and drove out to Meeteetse for what I was sure would be an adventure. After a long day of driving, which included visiting my grandparents and getting lost in Casper (worst labeled roads ever. Took me over 30min to leave town), I made it to Meeteetse around 8pm. Driving through Wind River canyon was pretty neat.

The morning of the race, I jumped up and started driving out of town around 7:20. The temps in Meeteetse were in the high 40's when I left, but they were pushing 60 when I made it to the start at the Timber Creek Ranger Station. It was a nice morning for the run. Right before the race, the director pulled us all together to go over some last second things. Emphasized that you should bring your gloves if you have them, offering duct tape to those without gators, mentioning that the crowd of 27 was the largest ever for the 15K.

Even though there was very little information about the race, I had somehow created a vision of what I expected in my head. I knew that we were on a 4-wheeler trail at the beginning. I figured that this first 2-3 miles would be a great place to get off to a strong start and post a decent time before the hard stuff started. From there, I expected a long climb, an easy trip along the ridge, and a fast and fun run down the mountain. Based on these assumptions, I set a goal of sub-4hrs; I expected to lose a lot of time on the climb, post a "normal" trail speed on the ridge (3-3.5 mph), and make up a lot of time on the 4-wheel road and the descent. As it turns out, only one of my four assumptions about the course were correct.

At 9am, we were sent off into the woods. Right from the word go, I was in DFL. The other racers took off like bats out of hell and I... well, I got off to a running start. Sort of. My body wasn't in the mood to play games that morning. My entire body, from my back to my legs to my joints, just felt stiff and tired. I was just dragging. Fortunately, the course decided to take away any temptation to run, and made the 4-wheeler road all uphill. There was occasionally enough of a downhill to tease you and make you want more, but then there was just more climbing. So, I just hiked along and occasionally smattered in some running where I could. So much for getting off to a quick start.

Around 3 miles, we finally got off the road and onto the trail, where the real fun began. The trail took a quick turn towards the mountain and started getting steeper. Before I got into the really thick forest, I came across the second aid station /10K turnaround. I stopped and chatted with them. I joked about how I thought it was bullshit that we had to climb up the road just so we could finally start climbing the mountain, and they kept saying how they thought it was cool that this was my first time doing this race and that they were really impressed that I was out there.... at that point, I have to admit that I still didn't get it. I thought the worst part was going to be the climb to the top, and really- how bad could it be? Might be long, might be tiring, but I'll get to the top and it'll be all fun and games from there... right?

Looking up the trail partway through the climb.

Unsurprisingly, the trip up the mountain was slow goings. For those in the Laramie area, think of the Haunted Forest trail, except slightly shorter with twice as much elevation gain. I would usually try to walk from one trail flag to the next and then take a short break. They weren't huge breaks, just 5-10sec usually- just long enough for my legs and my breath to catch up so I could go again. While a large part of the climb was on the trails, there were sections where you had to go cross country or where the trail was so overgrown that it seemed like you were going XC. The course was extremely well marked- it was extremely rare when you couldn't see the next trail marker, though there were times when you had to be paying attention because the marker would be in a direction you weren't expecting.

Almost to the top!! I can see sky somewhere other than straight above me!!

Finally, I broke through the tree line and the course started to level out a wee bit. There was still some climbing to do, but it was less steep and it wasn't a constant grind. Finally reaching the rim was the happiest moment in my life.

I'm on top of the world!!

When there were some downhills, I tried to run a little bit, but I mostly just walked. I was pretty well winded from the climb and hiked anything that was level or uphill. But, I didn't mind. It was a nice day out there and I had no issue with the leisurely pace. After a little bit, I reached a pretty significant dropoff. And here, I thought was where the games were going to begin....

Pretty steep downhill... The beginning of the end? Don't look ahead in the picture for spoilers.

Thinking that things were going to start getting exciting, I took off down the side of the mountain. The trail was hard packed and rocky, with just enough loose stuff to make it slick. While it was steep enough and slick enough that you had to really be paying attention and focus on what you were doing, it was easy enough that I got somewhat cocky. If this represents the rest of the descent, this is going to be a piece of cake! However, it this downhill run ended as quickly as it began, and the trail leveled off into the forest. After a short run I came out into the clearing and started looking around for the next flag. I found the flag and I let my gaze wander up to the next flag... and up... and finally to a small body looking down on me.

At the top of this rock chute is a man named Fred. Fred apparently designed this course. Fred must think he's a goddamn comedian or something.

The small man at the top of this steep climb was named Fred, who was the photographer this year and, as I would later find out, the guy who designed this course. Fred yelled something out to me that I didn't understand... and I may or may not have yelled back, "Are you fucking kidding me?!?". This climb, even though it was a mere 0.1ish miles, was hell. It was extremely steep and there was no footing to be had. The entire path up was nothing but loose chunks of rocks. My game plan was reduced down to taking 10 steps and then stopping for some rest. I tried to make sure they were 10 meaningful steps (read: 10 steps where I successfully made forward progress and didn't slide backwards), but it reached a point where I had to settle for 10 steps in any direction. I probably would have been just as well off crawling... it was certainly steep enough where I could have crawled without leaning forward too much more. That simple 0.1 of a mile took me nearly 20min to ascend. Finally, I reached the top and was given a moment to take a real breather.

Top of the rock chute

At this point, Fred confirms for me that I was bringing up the rear (before then, I didn't know for sure if I was DFL... I thought it was possible that there were people who were doing nothing but hiking, but wasn't positive). Fred collects his stuff and follows me along the trail. We talk for a bit and then he offers to take my camera from me and take shots as we're cruising along. We stayed on this rim for about another half mile. It was pretty up-and-down, but nothing too steep. Finally we reach the edge. We looked down and could see the start/finish basically right below us. When I finally locate the course off the mountain, I had to stop and take a few moments. It was a helluva drop.

Action Shot!!

Oh crap! Is this it?

Here goes nothing!

After I caught my breath, I took the plunge. It was NUTS. EXTREMELY steep with lots of soft, loose first and rocks. Initially, my gameplan was to try and stay upright on the descent. This option quickly went down the drain. It was so steep and so slick that it was difficult to stay upright. The forward motion felt like a barely controlled freefall, and I found several good sized rock patches to fall into.

Oh don't mind me, I'm just going to use this sharp rock in the ground to dig myself a new asshole.

This gives new meaning to the term "hand brake".

Eventually, I gave up on trying to stay upright. There was no hope of me making my way down this mountain quickly and safely, and trying to stay on my feet left me feeling like I was out of control. I decided that the best course of action would be to sit down and just enjoy the ride. I was operating under the assumption that being able to use both my hands and legs would give me better control over my speed and direction. Of course, this strategy had its own flaws. For starters, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be crapping rocks and sticks for the next month. Also, the increased surface area contact between my body and the ground meant that I was bringing a lot more stuff with me.... I would start some not insignificantly-sized landslides by scooting down the trail.

Screw it! I can't fall down if I just stay here!!

"Go see the world," they said. "Go find some fun and exciting new locales," they said. Frickin', fraking, frickin'...

A video I saw from the 2009 race showed people running down the mountain. Not sure where that was, but there was no way in hell that it was here. Running simply just didn't seem doable. The Mountain-side Slide seemed to do the trick though. Even though I seemed to find every single rock and stick with my backside, I was able to brace myself with my feet and kind of guide myself with my hands. About halfway down the mountain, my body had enough. My left calf cramped and I could not get unstuck. I could not get my foot to flex back and when I reached out to grab my toe, I simply could not get it pulled back towards me. It was cramping hardcore and I was not going anywhere. Fortunately, Fred was still hanging with me and came to my rescue. He was able to get that calf massaged out and got my foot flexing back and forth. I'm so glad he was there... I really don't know how long I would have been stuck there if I didn't get help.

From that point forward, the descent slowed down a lot. I could feel minor twinges of cramping in my right calf and I didn't want to tempt fate with my left leg again, so I was extremely careful with foot placement and how I moved... I didn't want to give my legs any opportunity to cramp up. To make things worse, I just ran out of juice. This descent had turned into a full-body workout and my goose was cooked. I had exerted myself to the point where I was feeling physically sick and wanted to throw up.

This slow slide to the bottom took me about an hour. There are no words to describe exactly how happy I was when I finally hit the bottom of the mountain. Finding myself upon level, solid ground was easily the happiest moment in my life, far surpassing my previous happiest moment from a mere 2 hours prior.

My body isn't showing it, but my soul is jumping around and celebrating like a giddy school girl.

From here on, it was a piece of cake. Half a mile of XC hiking to make it back to the four-wheeler road and another half mile to get back into the finish. As we came around the last bend in the road, we saw the vehicles of the start/finish and I collected whatever gumption I had left to pseudo-jog my sorry, scrapped, and scarred ass across the finish line.

Couldn't just walk across the finish.. had to put on a "show" and give the people what they came here for.

Surprisingly, I still managed to make my time target. I crossed the line in 3:55:49. I have to admit that I was sorely disappointed to find out that I was too slow and they already tore down the BBQ and most of the finish line. This is the first time I've experienced it as a racer, but as a race worker, it has always bothered me when finish lines or aid stations I work at tear down before the final person is through. I can understand beginning to cleanup and put away extra stuff, but tearing everything down just seems like poor sport. I guess sometimes it just sucks to suck. Anyways... tangent. So yeah, I cross the finish and was finally done. The Race Director was extremely congratulatory and kept saying that he thought it was so cool and he was proud that I made it. I can only assume that they had Search & Rescue on standby to go track Fatboy down if I didn't show up when I did.

Overall, it was a good experience. Those Meeteetse folk don't mess around when they make race courses. "Challenge" wasn't thrown into the name just because it sounded cool. That was a tough, tough course. While I think being in great overall shape (upper body, lower bady, core, etc) would help a lot, I don't think there's any way to truly prepare for this event. How does one prepare for an event where you can barely stay on your feet?  It was definitely a unique experience in a pretty area. A great way to challenge your limits, though not something to blindly jump into (not that you have much choice when it comes to this race).

Good adventure.

Once I got home, I was able to plug my GPS into my computer and see the damage that was done. That was a hellacious course. The first half was a lot more brutal than I imagined (I thought you lost a lot of altitude between miles 1.5 and 3 as it seemed like there was a fair bit of downhill... turns out I was still climbing!). The rock chute didn't shock me at all, with almost 300ft of altitude change in about 0.1mile.... I'm not even sure getting rid of the loose rock shards would have made it easier. The real shocker was the descent. I genuinely thought it was longer. As it turns out, it's over 1000ft of lost elevation in less than a third of a mile. That came out to an average gradient of over 67% !! No wonder I couldn't stay upright! Below is an altitude chart with some labels.

The day in graphical form.