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.

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.