Wasatch Front 100 Report

Quick facts:
Wasatch Front 100
100 miles
200 miles driven by the support crew
26,882’ climbing
26,131’ descending
4,880’ low point
10,450’ high point
88 degree high
34 degree low
some hail, some rain, some thunder
36 hour cut-off
2 hours of sleep (crew only)
32:03 finish time

I distinctly remember a simple statement I made to my wife the morning after the 2005 Western States 100… I was holding the hotel room door open & trying to maneuver my rolling luggage & duffle bag through & as far away from my blistered toes as possible. “You know, now that I’ve done a couple of 100 milers, I don’t have the urge to do this anymore. I don’t have to prove anything to myself. Next year, I’m just gonna focus on shorter races & have some fun.”
I don’t think that the smell of jet fuel had yet cleared my nostrils when I got home & I was already surfing Stan Jensen’s website.
By the beginning of that fall, I knew what I’d be training for…the Wasatch Front 100. It was a logical choice for me…it was technical, less runnable, & later in the season.  I’m not so much of a runner as a high-speed hiker & the September race date matched my personal training since I find it hard to get the required training mileage (read: motivation) in through our dark & wet winter. The North Shore mountains would be a great training ground from what I had heard about the course.
So, the training phase started rather early…somewhere around December…with the idea of running flatter/faster during the winter to regain some speed, then I’d tilt the trails up once Knee Knacker training began in early May & focus on the vertical nature of this particular course.

January 3rd rolled around & the only order of business on my mind was to get the race application & check mailed out to the race director. There was no lottery for Wasatch, but it did have a limited amount of spaces….determined by the first 300 entrants with the earliest post-dates. Mrs Mud made sure that the postmaster stamped the envelope (twice for good measure), & I bit my nails for 2 solid weeks until the confirmation finally arrived…I was in!!!

Training was going along rather well, & I was very excited about doing this race but I was looking for an extra push…with all the effort that goes into training for a 100 miler, I wanted to make sure that this time I was doing everything right & I would have the “perfect” race…I didn’t want to lose motivation half-way through the summer (BBQ season!). That extra push came in the form of a chance encounter with William Emerson. He was coming to Vancouver to race the Diez Vista 50km & he was looking for someone to crew for him. I offered & met with him the day before the race. I was very impressed at how thorough & professional he approached every aspect/detail of his event & it made me think about how I could refine my own racing. Later, in an exchange of emails, I learned that he offered coaching services & asked if he would be able to give me the structure I needed.  Without going into too much detail, William formulated a plan that would see me through the summer, family commitments, build-up races, & work, while keeping the fun-factor high so that it never really felt like training. During the course of one of our weekly discussions he suggested a couple of other races as training… much to my surprise I came out with a couple of PRs. Even Mrs Mud’s crew role was considered in the training phase…basically everything was building up to Wasatch. The training went very well & I avoided injury, but the only real concern that I had was an unknown…the altitude. Being a sea-level dweller, I had some legitimate concerns for the lung sucking Wasatch hills between 8500’ & 10,450’. While I had managed to get up to 8300’ during training, it was only one time & the bulk had maxed out at 4000’.

Flash forward to race week…this is an exciting time for Mrs Mud & I as we look towards these events as a sort of twisted version of a holiday. The kids are with the grandparents, so we can enjoy some private time, cozy dinners, sunny climes, & the bonding experience of stuffing drop bags & taping my toes (ahh…the evolution of romance ).
I’m a little (OK…a lot) more nervous than usual as I’ve plunked a lot of eggs into this one proverbial basket, but I’ve got an ace up my sleeve (think I can throw one more cliche into that sentence?). As it turns out, William’s girlfriend Rachel has also entered Wasatch so I have the opportunity for some one-on-one guidance as the clock counts down.

It’s a short flight from Vancouver over the Cascade Mountains (I tried to locate the Cascade Crest 100 course from the air) on a sunny Thursday mid-afternoon. Mrs Mud & I touch down in Salt Lake City Utah 2 hours later & I immediately eye the Wasatch Front Range that hems the city’s eastern edge…”Bigger than I remember” I comment as I recall the only other time I was here. “Much bigger…”. We had been dissecting the race information package during the flight & our first course of business…upon picking up the rental vehicle…is to upgrade from a compact to an SUV. There is some concern with the crew access to the first major aid station…it is described as “The 9 mile (dirt) road is narrow, rocky and bumpy at times, and hazardous (may cause vertigo). Don't get in a hurry driving these switchbacks.” We were hoping for something small with some decent clearance…they gave us a Durango! We coulda skipped the hotel room with this kind of space but at least we had ground clearance.

Salt Lake City is a wonderful place for getting around. With only 180,000 people in the metro area, traffic was never an issue & the drive from the airport to the hotel took less than 10 minutes. All the while, I am looking beyond the road in front & out towards those mountains…those really big mountains. I thought I would have been fairly immune to the hills since they aren’t really that much bigger than what we have back home, but the perspective from several miles back…& the fact that they simply jut right out of the plain…shows off every vertical foot they climb towards the sky. Yes…I am freaking….freaking silently, but freaking nonetheless.

The Peery Hotel is an historic 3 storey building that is within walking distance of every decent restaurant in the city. The valet/concierge/bellman (hey, small hotels have to maximize their staff) was an enormous wealth of information about the local area. Being an avid outdoorsman himself (skier, hiker, mountain biker), he gave us many recommendations for decent eateries, health food stores (Wild Oats), pharmacy, & directions to the local REI. He even offered to bring up a case of bottled water to our room (free!) so that I could stay properly hydrated! Mrs Mud & I made a quick trip about town to pick up the various bits & pieces to finish up my gear (Ensure, band aids, cheap sunglasses, gel, etc…) & after checking & re-checking my drop bag list, we enjoyed a leisurely dinner at the local brew pub…Red Rock. I indulged in a pint of Amber Ale as we went over the logistics of the race. The big concern for the crew, was that vertiginous description to Francis Peak…Mrs Mud had some doubts.

After a very comfortable nights sleep (despite the incessant dry-mouth…I polished off an entire bottle of water during the night) & a simple breakfast of coffee & muffins, we decided to enjoy a little sightseeing around Salt Lake City. Part of the sights involved a ½ hour drive to find the race start…we weren’t going to chance getting lost on the morning of the race. It was a little confusing, but we found the start area & knew it would be less frantic on race morning since there would be little or no traffic at 4:00am. We then decided that it was time to indulge in some Mexican food before popping into the pre-race check in & bag drop off. After stuffing my face with a couple of chicken enchiladas, brown rice, & beans (& more water), we made our way to Sugar House Park where the RD would give us a pre-race briefing & take our drop bags.

When we arrived, the area was already abuzz with a couple of hundred racers, their crew & pacers, and the many volunteers that make this race possible. I went directly to the registration table to pick up my package…that’s when I had a minor heart attack! The four people in front of me had registration cards with their race numbers assigned…I never remembered getting one…one of the conditions for getting into the race is that you must perform at least 8 hours of trail maintenance work for your local forest service, then get a form filled in & sent back t he RD before mid August...or you are OUT!. I had done so, but all of a sudden I was wondering if they even received it in the mail!!! Luckily, I had photocopied it…just in case. Turns out, it wasn’t an issue…they had me on file & the card was the original one that I had received back in February…long forgotten. Phew! I was checked in & then asked to step on the scale…”The scale!?”…I had forgotten this little formality. You are weighed prior to the race, & then weighed at specific points during the race to ensure your health… if you drop more than 7% body weight, you are pulled out. I stepped onto the scale…that can’t be right?! That’s when I remembered the 2 enchilada lunch less than 30 minutes ago….”Um…any chance I could re-weigh in about 30 minutes?” I asked/begged….”Sure.” Turns out that lunch weighed almost 2 pounds…ahem…
Just before the briefing got underway, we bumped into William & Rachel (who was feeling somewhat nervous) & chatted for awhile….some about the course…some about crew access…some about being nervous…& some about getting to the start. It was great to see them & to know that we weren’t the only ones who were nervous. We also bumped into another friend from Western States 2005…CoolRunning’s very own “Katie”! K & Mrs Mud hugged like old buddies & made the decision (along with William) to carpool to the first aid station on race day…..safety in numbers. We saw many other familiar faces…some from other races…some from the magazines…& a few from our hometown. Gail & George & Martha were there to support Bruce on his final leg of the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning! The briefing was...well…brief. Within a few more minutes Mrs Mud & I were heading back to the hotel to wind down. I chatted with William for a bit longer back at the hotel before we headed out for an early dinner & the hopes of an early sleep.

Since we’d have to get up very early (3:00am), we hit the pillows at around 9:30pm…any earlier would have been futile. I usually sleep very well the night prior to a race, but for some reason, it was not to be this night. I got about 3 hours of solid sleep & then proceeded to toss & turn...any short fits of slumber were peppered with race worries…getting lost…altitude…nausea…falling. The various redundant alarms went off at precisely 3:00am….but I was wide awake. I called William & Rachel (another redundant alarm system we’d worked out…you know…in case the power went out, our batteries failed, & the hotel wake-up call floundered).

Mrs Mud & I were now into our pre-race routine….after a shower, I got dressed, pinned my number to my shorts (after crumpling it up a few times to give it that denim-worn comfort), & I was sipping back a couple of Ensure’s & some coffee while Mrs Mud taped a couple of my toes…typical blister spots. It was at this point that I had another minor heart attack! While packing my gear bags, I had put both my headlamps into various drop bags…the problem was that the first 2 hours of the race would start before the sun would rise!!! Luckily, I had placed a flashlight & Zipka headlamp in Mrs Mud’s gear bag…so I pilfered them. Crisis averted, we made our way down to the lobby where we saw Jeffrey & his pacer Pete…we wished them luck as Rachel & William made their way down. It turns out the the drive to the start was not only faster at 4:00am, but much easier…all we had to do was follow the Ford with the “Western States” license plate surround.

For those who prefer visuals to descriptive text, here’s an excellent series of photos from a racer’s perspective by kind permission of Steve Pero:
http://sports.webshots.com/album/452826143hekqmq?start=0

It was pitch black when we pulled up to the start area parking area, & although a few hundred people were milling about, it was eerily quiet. The racers were all standing around in their shorts, windbreakers & headlamps anxiously waiting as the RD gave the slow countdown…”10 MINUTES TO START!”. I wished Rachel good luck then got into the line for the port-o-potties…a pre-race routine for many apparently.  I found Bruce & Martha & wished him luck…a few pre-race photos were taken, then I was saying a final goodbye to Mrs Mud as the race started officially at 5:00am on Saturday September 9th.

The moon was out, the temps were warm enough to do without a jacket, & the runners were close enough that one could run without a flashlight...it was like running with a couple hundred of your favorite pacers. Since the trail was a hilly singletrack that wound it’s way north through the canyons, the race looked like a sinewy glow-snake that  pulled & contracted as the trail changed directions. I was quieter than usual & simply listened to snippets of conversations as we spent the better part of 2 hours following the same contour line….at one point Hans-Dieter said “Someone told me to have a good day…I told him ‘...for me, it will be two days!’”. Eventually the trail started to climb in earnest & the sky started to lighten. It was going to be a sunny day….but at least there was a cool breeze. Periodically I would look down at my heart rate monitor to make sure I was running as planned…so far, so good. The trail headed north for a few miles before it would start it’s main swing towards the south.

I had long given up on predicting finishing times on courses that I’d never run before, but I needed some sort of idea of what to expect. Taking the conservative approach, I guessed that a 30 to 31 hour time would be reasonable…& this is what I pretty much told anyone who’d asked…however, William had done a bit of research & I verified it with my own investigating…earlier that summer I had run the White River 50 miler near Mount Rainier Washington & had run a good race…it seemed to us that finishers of the White River race could complete Wasatch in less than 3x their White River time. For me, that added up to 28 hours. I was pretty excited by this bit of information but I still wasn’t sure about the effects of the higher altitudes.

The first major aid station…one that had food, electrolytes, & crew access…wasn’t until about 18 miles into the race. Therefore, I had to carry sufficient liquid, food, & gear to get me through the next 4 to 5 hours. Instead of using my usual handheld bottles & a small waist pack, I opted for a UD hydration pack…although a bit heavier, I had ample space for holding gear. I tried to be frugal about all of my gear…it can add up very quickly…but at this point I would rather carry a little too much fluid than risk dehydration. So along with the usual checking & re-checking my heart rate, I was constantly sipping fluids & counting calories.

The trail climbed at a fairly steep grade & I caught up with a familiar face…Doug, a fellow Canadian with whom I ran many miles at last year’s Western States (the ultra-world is indeed a small one)…we ran together through sagebrush & short grasses until we got to a section known as “Chinscraper” As the name implies, the trail suddenly got much more serious. We scrambled up the steep slope using hands for balance  & careful not to topple backward. This section marks the 9 mile point of the race, but already we had climbed 4400’ & although we topped out at 9200’ the elevation didn’t seem to bother me. We hit a dirt road & we were finally able to run. Hunting season had opened that day & a few camo-clad fellows were traveling the access road…either by 4x4 or ATVs…periodically we would hear some gunshots & joke that the finisher rate was going to be lower this year. I saw DirtDiva along this section & made a quick introduction before carrying along.

Now we were heading south…the general direction of the course until the finish. With only 10% of the distance covered, it was not something I was even contemplating at this time….better to keep my mind relaxed with other distractions. The relative smoothness of this dirt road allowed me to take in the views on both sides of this ridge…to the right, the sun was low in the sky & it’s warmth could already be felt. To my left (westward) lay the Great Salt Lake. From high up on this perch, the size of the lake was much more apparent…the land below looked like a Mars-scape…truly other-worldly. Before long, I was pulling into the Francis Peak aid station.

It’s a real culture shock…every time I pull into one of these major aid stations I find the contrast from the stillness of the trail & the peacefulness of thought to be quite jarring. Still, I knew what I needed to get done & soon heard Mrs Mud’s cheering through the crowd. I followed her to an area at the aid station where she’d set out my chair, spare shoes, food, & my drop bag. I felt like a formula 1 car with it’s first class pit crew…K, Mrs Mud, & William were all there helping me out. Despite the number of people, it was all very well organized. Mrs Mud & I have a very slick system & we’ve done this enough that we know how to get through efficiently. K is a veteran of many ultras…both as a racer & as a crew member…so she was finding holes to fill,  while William made sure that I was focused on the task at hand…he gave me much advice & encouragement, & then reminded me that time was ticking…time to get going…so I did. Within 7 minutes, I had refueled, refilled, changed shoes, & I was heading out. I wouldn’t be seeing them again for 20 miles.

As the trail was mostly dirt road at this point, it was almost too easy to follow & at one point I almost missed a critical return to a forested section. The variance in the trail kept things interesting as we wound through pine forest & back onto 4x4 roads then across a few creeks. At a certain point, the singletrack was in a forested section & started to climb steeply. My heart rate climbed just as quickly so I slowed my pace to compensate….hmmmm…I could barely get  beyond a walking pace before it would creep up above 145 beats per minute. My plan was to keep it around 130…maybe get up to 140 periodically, but this was too high…& too slow. The effects of altitude weren’t what I’d expected…I was expecting to feel some headaches, & maybe some nausea, but this wasn’t so bad….I didn’t feel winded or exhausted, but I simply had a higher heart rate. Regardless, I would have to watch this.

The trail would constantly climb & dive, climb & dive. Short elevation changes, but there was rarely anything flat. Each time it went up, my heart rate would leap & I was reduced to a walk…”granny steps” I called ‘em.  Eventually, the trail left the forest & I started to follow singletrack paths that followed the contour of some sharp, steep ridges. It was spectacular to be that high up & following a tight ridge with astounding views on both sides! This was obviously the reason I had picked this particular race! Runners had started to drift apart now & there wasn’t really anybody to chat with. Despite the fact that I’d left my MP3 player with my crew, I still had ample distractions. To say that I was feeling great would be a total lie…the sluggish pace at which I was climbing as well as the building heat of the day & my typical 30 mile nausea made sure that I had my worries…but the views sure helped to distract me.  I got to a very remote aid station (accessible only by 4x4) & was offered a popsicle…mmmmm, cherry…& some soup. As usual, the soup did the trick…or perhaps it was the fact that the trail was descending somewhat….regardless, I felt like I had legs again. I knew that the Big Mountain aid station was coming up soon, but I heard it before I saw it….the sound of mooing…then cheering…then cowbells…the trail dropped quickly onto a paved road where a marshal pointed me across…again the cacophony of a very busy aid station. I was directed to a weigh scale ( I was down 2lbs…nothing abnormal) then Mrs Mud directed me to my chair & food. This time there was a nice surprise…she’d picked up some ice cold milk!! I’d be trying it out in training & found that it was an excellent fuel…it went down great & after chasing it with ½ a cup of broth, I told William about my altitude reduced pace. He said to stick with the plan & watch my heart rate. Again, William, K, & Mrs Mud were the ultimate crew as they got me through the entire procedure in less than 9 minutes. I was leaving mile 40 at almost 4:00pm….10:47 after starting that morning.
The next section entered a forest & immediately there was a short climb, but then it descended through open sage brush & even some cactus…& descended, & descended some more. I was glad that I had incorporated some long downhills into my training because I’m sure my quads would have fizzled out quickly. The view toward the far range was wide open & I could see the storm clouds forming over those mountains. Mrs Mud had warned me that there was a chance of a hail storm hitting us…so I kept watching the dark clouds to see which way they were going. One other thing had me concerned…the fading light. When I had left the previous aid station, Mrs Mud had asked if I wanted a back up light, but I had miscalculated the time & thought it was too early….now I was wondering if I’d really screwed up. As I descended, I caught up to a couple of fellows that William had introduced at the pre-race briefing…Ken & his pacer Saunder…we ran in to the next aid station together & then continued on towards Lamb’s Canyon. At this point, the companionship was quite welcome & Ken and Saunder were great company. We had some good laughs as we followed the abandoned rail grade & in what seemed like no time at all we were popping into Lamb’s Canyon aid station. It was now almost 7:30pm…cutting it close as far as daylight went!
As we pulled around the final corner into the aid station, I saw Mrs Mud, K & Willliam. Despite the differences in speed between the three crewmember’s racers, the time between aid stations allowed them to stick together…if it’s one major difficulty for a crew member, it’s the endless hours of waiting, followed by the frantic few moments when their charge pulls in & demands total attention…I don’t know how they do it. Anyway, William gave me some huge amount of encouragement as I was feeling down about my climbing speed….Mrs Mud & K got me some great food…including a grilled cheese sandwhich & more before they all kicked me outa my chair & out of the aidstation. The check out was a bit tough to locate, but William ran ahead to confirm it’s location & all I had to do was shuffle behind. When I finally checked out, the light was fading fast, but it looked as though the storm had just missed us. The next couple of hours took me first up a paved road & then a 2000’ climb through a forested trail. I walked most of this climb & was joined by a fellow from Arizona who had been attempting the Grand Slam…only to get thwarted on the first event…the heat of the Western States. Still, he was racing the other events & he told about his summer pursuing those other trails. We eventually hit the top of the climb & I stopped to put on my MP3 while he continued. The dark descent was uneventful, but it dropped another 1500’ before popping me onto a paved road. The road climbed, but I seemed to have a decent pace & although I wasn’t running, I quickly caught up to a few people before reaching the Big Water aid station…almost 3 hours after leaving Lamb’s Canyon.
Big Water was a much colder aid station…in part due to it’s elevation at  over 7600’, & in part due to the fact that the sun was long gone. Mrs Mud had some hot soup for me & as I sipped back some more fluids, one of the aid captains passed on a message that my kids had emailed to the race website….it was simply that the kids said “Hi!” but it really lifted my spirits. I was starting to feel tired & I was getting concerned with all the walking I was doing. At K’s suggestion, I put on a long sleeve shirt & even a second layer before putting on my wind jacket, wool gloves, & cap…yes, it was cooling down. The heat of the day…somewhere in the mid to high 80’s… was suddenly a distant memory. I slugged back a can of Starbucks Doubleshot & hoped that the caffeine boost would keep me perked. It was just past 11:00pm when I left the aid station, & I knew it would be a long while before I’d see Mrs Mud again. “Go Muddy!” K cheered. I also had some virtual company along for the ride…my on-line buddies in the ClubHouse had signed on for various miles of support, so while they weren’t there in reality, I had a small list printed off & laminated that I carried with me…every once in awhile I would look at the list & wonder who I’d “bump into” next.
The 2500’ climb up to Desolation Lake was another slow climb through the pine forest. Though the grade wasn’t very steep at first, I was still trying to keep my heart rate in check…at least I was moving fast enough to keep warm but a couple of runners past me. I finally reached a short downhill section & hoped to make up some time, but even that was a bit difficult…I would run for about 20 steps & then have to reduce my pace to a walk…then the trail kicked up again…steeper than before. At the pace I was going, I wasn’t sure when I would see the aid station, but it eventually took me nearly 1 ½ hours to cover the 5 miles. Desolation Lake aid station was a little oasis in the night. Situated at the bottom of a flat wilderness valley surrounded by high peaks, it was picturesque…the moon was out & I shut off my headlamp for a bit as I ran the open field to the fire pit at the aid station. The volunteers there must have seen quite a few exhausted runners because as soon as I came in, they sat me down by the roaring fire & got me some hot chocolate…I nearly jumped outa the chair, though, when one volunteer started to rub my shoulders…Ouch! I was tense! As I sat there, I watched people leave the aid station & was horrified to look up at one peak…the distinctive bobbing of headlamps marched along a ridge waaaaay up there! I was already sitting at 9100’ elevation & would have to climb another 1000’ to get to the next one. Ugh! I finally got off my chair & started across the field to start the climb in earnest. More granny steps & upward slogging…how I wished I had the time to acclimatize…or move the race closer to sea level.
Now that I had 2/3 of the distance covered, I hoped that the remaining miles would come easily. I knew that there were still two major passes to cross, & I was almost at the top of one of them. The creeping pace continued as I made my way to the summit ridge & admired the views of the lights of Salt Lake off in the distance & Park City down the other valley. The sky was clearing & the moon lit up the trail so that I could periodically shut off the headlamp…my MP3 was playing an appropriate Peter Gabriel tune…
“Climbing up on Sallisbury Hill
I could see the city lights
Wind was heavy, time stood still
Eagle flew out of the night”
…well, everything except the eagle was pretty accurate. I made it to the next aid station…it was more like a M.A.S.H. tent as a few runners were seated & looking pretty grim. I recognized Pete…his runner, Jeffrey was suffering from a weak stomach & they were trying to get it settled. It was quite cold now...probably in the mid/high 30’s & I decided to continue. From this point it was going to be a long drop down to the Brighton ski area aid station…which was clearly visible from this high vantage point…though the distance was deceptive. I found that I still couldn’t find the energy I thought I should for a descent, but I managed to speed walk…really just letting gravity take me down as I took giant steps. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but I had just crested 10,100’. The trail led to a hairpin turn on a paved road & although there was a single marker (a glow stick), I checked the route description that I carried with me to verify that I should take the downhill direction. The description mentioned that Brighton was “a short distance” down this road. It was close to 3:30am & there was not a spec of traffic, nor were there any street lights. I hiked down the road & was  a fair amount…still no sign of life or light & I was beginning to doubt the direction I had taken so I would stop & look back up the road…wondering if I should head back up…not a pleasant thought at this point. Eventually I saw a glowstick hanging from a tree on the side of the road…Phew! I continued on…perhaps a little more confident now that I knew I was heading the right way…but where was that aid station? The moon, however, kept me company & I continued down. It was all very quiet until I heard footsteps from behind…the father/son runners from Virginia (who were completing the Grand Slam together) caught up to me…”You were my goal’ said the elder as they pulled alongside…finally some company! My sprits were pretty low & it was nice to chat with Gary (father) & Keith (son) as we finally located the ski chalets (eerily quiet since it was close to 4:00am!) & hiked through the town to the Brighton day lodge…finally!!!
 It had taken me nearly 9 hours to cover the last 25 miles…mostly walking. In my original plan, I was going to stay out of the lodge…just go in long enough to check-in check-out & get weighed…I would have my crew outside so that I wouldn’t succumb to the comfort of the lodge’s warmth…I’d heard that it was a dangerous place to hang around. But I had no choice. It was very cold outside, & I had generated very little heat with my power walk. I also had a few concerns about the next leg & wanted to talk to Mrs Mud about it. As I had expected, Brighton was a welcome shelter & from the looks on many racer’s faces, they had about as stiff a time as I did. I was greted with “Welcome to Brighton…you’re ½ way to the finish!!”…I thought the fellow was joking since I was at mile 75…I wasn’t until the Finish that I would find out how accurate this statement was.
I was immediately weighed (no change at all) & Mrs Mud led me to a group table to get me fed & revived. Ken & Saunder were already there & had been in for a while scarfing down some beans & other foods...it looked like a feast! I asked them what lay ahead…Ken had paced this portion once before…he mentioned that there were two more big climbs, then the rest was downhill…. I managed to plop myself down & have some soup, milk, Sprite, & coffee (odd, I know, but it’s what I craved)…Ken & Saunder headed out & wished me luck. My feet were quite sore from the distance & I decided to switch shoes…something a bit sturdier…my trusty Leona Divides. Mrs Mud tended to my toes. Her tape job had held up the entire course…a testament to her professionalism…& she simply tended to a couple of hot spots. Noticing how dirty my feet were, made me realize the importance of wearing gaiters…had I not worn them, I don’t know how bad off I could have been.
Despite all of the TLC, I had some major concerns on my mind…doubts, really. The fact that I had walked so much of the last 25 miles & the effects of the altitude had me worried. The next section was about to get much higher than I’d been on this course before (at least that’s what I thought at the time)…almost 1400’.  At a height of 10,450’ above sea level, Point Supreme is aptly named. I was going to have to make a 1700’ climb in less than 3 miles. With the accelerated heart rate that I’d experienced throughout the previous miles, I was afraid of what I was getting into. What I did know, was that once I’d leave Brighton, it would be a cold, slow ascent. “Are you OK?” Mrs Mud asked…more concerned than usual. I was sitting, hunched over with my forearms leaning on my knees…I must have looked like a boxer in the latter rounds of a serious beating…all I could do was raise my eyes up to hers and mutter “I dunno…”. “What are you thinking?” she asked…she knealt down to my level now, put her hand on shoulder…this was serious…
”Ugh….(pause)…I don’t know what to do…”.
“Are you thinking of dropping?”
“I dunno…yeah…I guess…I dunno what to do”
“Are you injured?”
“No…”
“Are you nauseous?”
“No.”
“Do you have a headache?”
“No.”
“Are you hurting?”
“Just the usual.”
“What are you worried about?
“..I dunno…it’s the altitude, I guess….if I was sucking so bad on the last sections, I have no idea what this next part will bring…what if I can’t move at the top?...I’ve been walking the last 25  miles…I can’t imagine having to walk the next 25 miles! That could take another 9 hours.”
“Well…I’ll wait for you. You know, you’re not the only one who’s come in here & mentioned how tough this course is. A lot of people are walking. Besides, once you’re over the pass, it starts to drop & you’ll feel much better. You know that you have a strong kick towards the finish…especially when it’s downhill…& technical.”
I grunted & Mrs Mud rubbed my knee...she got up to give me a moment & got reinforcements. She came back with K…”You know that the sun will be up in a couple of hours, & you’ll feel like a whole new person…it really makes a difference.” K said. It was simple…but it made sense. Something deep inside me was feeling anger…aggression…this was a good sign. I was coming around…I had some fight left. It wasn’t a logical emotion, but it was a sign of life…I was going back out there…now I just had to get off my fat a$$ & get moving. I’d been moping around this aid station for close to an hour…exactly what I hadn’t wanted, but it was better than dropping out. Doug had left more than half an hour ago, and Ken & Saunder were over 45 minutes away by now. At some point, the 24 hour mark passed rather unceremoniously. I put some layers on & looked over at Pete & Jeffrey (who’d come in within the last 15 minutes)…Pete mentioned that they were gonna try to get Jeffrey’s stomach settled...it wasn’t cooperating. I stood up and wobbled forward…”OK…Let’s get this show on the road.” K & Mrs Mud gathered the rest of the gear & I checked out of Brighton. We headed down the steps & walked towards the trailhead. Mrs Mud & I kissed goodbye as we split directions. “You’ll be fine “ she encouraged. “Go get ‘em, Muddy!” K encouraged. I headed up the trail & about 15 ‘ later I turned to look back…I wouldn’t be seeing Mrs Mud until the finish…I was pathetic…just keep moving forward.
It wasn’t long before I found a stride. The trail went up the ski runs & followed an access road for a short stint before steepening up a very rocky/stepped trail. I felt fairly good & noticed a couple of other runners up ahead. I followed behind them by about 100’ as we passed some streams & dam…eventually we were making some earnest elevation gain. At some point, I turned around & noticed that the sky was lightening up….the sun would be coming up pretty soon…a new day, K had said. It came rather quickly & I shed my headlamp…stuffed into my pack. Two sunrises in one day…what a treat! I was actually feeling fairly good & it wasn’t until I’d passed my two colleagues & saw the official summit sign that I allowed myself a small sense of victory by collecting three small rocks from the summit…one for my wife & one each for my kids. I was at 10,450’ & still moving! This was good! About as quickly as the trail went up, it fell away...& I actually ran! It really felt like a new day. The trail dropped & twisted through some rough & rocky single track & I passed 4 other runners. At this point in the race, everybody seemed to be paired up as runners ran with their pacers. I made good time & reached Ant Knolls in great spirits…perhaps the best I’d felt all race…I’d barely felt the 2 mile/1400’ drop. There were about 8 runners sitting & enjoying sausage & pancake breakfasts (what an amazing feat to get all that stuff up to that remote aid station!). I would have loved to indulge, but the hour I’d spent at Brighton coupled with the euphoria I was feeling, was too good to squelch here. I had my old standby…broth…& hastened out of there. As I left, I asked what lay ahead...the volunteer pointed up…”It’s called the Grunt”…Ugh!
I started up at a good clip & it seemed that my legs were as fresh as the start of the day prior. Weird. I motored upward & saw DirtDiva for the second time…I wished her well & carried on. The climb went up another 400’ before I reached the ridge & a sight that brought tears to my eyes…my MP3 was playing The Waterboys “This is the Sea” & the sun was illuminating  the aspen grove in a warm glow…it was truly a perfect moment…no doubt one of those scenes that I will replay in my mind for many years. The trail started a casual descent & I just let my legs fly…I passed another 6 people at this point & I found that my bruised ego had received the virtual icepack it needed…now the trick was to keep this momentum to the finish…if it was all going to be downhill, it’s be a breeze!
I pulled into Pole Line aid station in just over an hour from Ant Knolls & was intrigued by the outfits of the volunteers…pirates! I was handed my drop bag as I sat down & started to shed my cold weather clothing & lights for lighter garb….that’s when I saw Ken & Saunder. “Geez! We left you for dead back at Brighton!” Ken exclaimed. “So did I” was my response. “Glad to see you again!”. They headed off & suggested that I would catch up & was welcome to join them. I agreed & after sucking back another Starbucks Doubleshot & some soup, I was less than a couple of minutes behind them. Within a few minutes I had caught up & the three of us were making good time along the forested singletrack. Ken & Saunder were great companions & we laughed quite a ways through the woods…even though there were a few short climbs, they really buoyed my spirits & kept my mind off the remaining distance. Within an hour, our threesome became a quintet as we joined up with Gary & Keith (the father/son Grand Slam duo). We moved along quite well now.
Eventually, we started descending in earnest. The valley below was obviously going to take some serious quad-busting work, but we all looked forward to the finish… it seemed so simple now…drop, drop, drop, round a corner, & finish….but the Wasatch isn’t so easy…later I heard it described as “relentless”…& we were about to get a lesson in definitions….the hard way. The descent started as a very steep rutted trail that was choked with dust. Every runner kicked up clouds of the stuff & it got into everything. But just as I got into the rhythm of a decent downhill stride, the trail would turn a corner & head upward! Not for long, but long enough that it wrecked that rhythm. It happened over & over…just when I thought I had hit the last climb, there’d be another one! I joked with Gary that the RD must have looked for every climb in Utah & stuck it on this last leg of the trail! It seemed to go this way forever…I really lost count…but eventually…finally…the trail took a real turn downward & Gary, Keith, & I were flying down the trail. The obvious abundance of oxygen was a clear indication that we were really heading towards the finish…just one more aid station, then 7 miles to go! We passed a cluster of about 6 runners before we popped into Pot Bottom aid station.
I made a quick change to a lighter shirt (now that the temps were headed into the 80’s), left most of my gear in my drop bag (to minimize weight for this final section), & enjoyed some melon & coke…before leaving, I filled a baggy with ice cubes to munch on. The volunteers mentioned that there was one more (one more!) “short” climb & then the rest was all downhill. I later learned that Wasatch must be native for “sandbag”. The jeep road headed upward at a reasonable grade & it crossed a stream several times. I took advantage of the cold water to cool my feet & I dunk my bandana …which I promptly placed on my noggin. I managed to get a decent power walk going & waved to Ken & Saunder. With all the walking I had done earlier in the race, I wanted to make up as much time as possible. Once the trail tilted downward, I let ‘er rip. To say that I love downhills is an understatement…because of all the lost time prior, I was chomping at the bit…& all those extra O’s in the lower elevations gave me added fuel.
It was the most amazing stretch of trail I have ever run! The singletrack twisted & turned, & dropped lower & lower…but the faster I went, the faster I felt I could go…it was almost effortless. Perhaps it was due to the large amount of walking I ad to do…perhaps due to the euphoria of knowing that the finish was near…I dunno…I was running as hard as I could & I wasn’t even feeling winded…it was truly incredible. I set my MP3 to play 2 albums…AC/DC’s Highway to Hell & a compilation of the best of The Cult… I was supercharged at this point as I passed another 6 runners. I even ran the few climbs that laid between me & the finish….absolutely amazing! I felt like superman! Eventually, I wondered where the finish could be…I could see a golf course to my left, as well as a paved road…I was at the valley floor but still on a singletrack trail.
Quite suddenly the trail dropped onto the paved road. A volunteer was at the junction & pointed me down the road…”Straight ahead…about a half mile to the Homestead (the finish)”. Wow! Almost there! I ran down the asphalt…actually along the dirt shoulder since this was a trail race after all...& rounded the curve of the road. Then I stopped. Confusion. There were two arrows painted on the road at my feet…pointing towards the left down another road. I looked down that road..is that the Homestead over there? The volunteer had told me to follow this road. Confused, I waited until an approaching car came within a few feet…luckily the windows were rolled down...”Excuse me!” “Yes?” “Which way to the Homestead?” “Straight ahead.”  So I continued in what I hoped was the right direction & after about 1 minute my doubts were erased…there was a marker at the corner of a grass field. I passed through the opening in the fence & ran down the field…there was quite a crowd cheering & the finish line banner was at the vanishing point. My smile must have been a mile wide as I’ve never been so happy to see a finish line…ever! Mrs Mud & K were cheering up a storm as I crossed the line wiping away at tears & I was greeted by hugs & a cold Pale Ale. It was truly an epic race…relentless…absolutely relentless!
While my finishing time of 32:03 was beyond what I had set as a goal, I discovered that my goal was moot. The sense of achievement that I felt when I overcame the doubts of Brighton, was the real victory. As far as absolute running went, the icing on the cake was the fact that my last split (from Pot Bottom to the finish) was 1:29….winner Karl Meltzer posted 1:23 for that section & Andy Jone Wilkins posted 1:26.  Now if only I could only run like that everytime…
Anyway, I got my buckle & a gorgeous plaque engraved with my name & finishing time. When Mrs Mud & I returned to the Peery Hotel, they gave us an automatic upgrade (with a congratulations on finishing the race) to the king suite….it came with a large jacuzzi tub & it was the closest suite to the elevator…these guys know runners!!! I also got one of the best rewards the following day…Mrs Mud & I drove up Emigration canyon to Ruth’s Diner for lunch…where we sat on the back patio & I indulged in a Polygamy Porter beer, & one of the best burgers on the planet…1/3 pound prime ground beef with slabs of pastrami, followed by melted cheese, onions, on a homemade bun. Mmmmm mmmm!!!  It must have been the greasey burger talking, but I said “I don’t think I wanna run another 100” (pause) “Well, maybe not next year anyway.”
A big “thanks” goes out to K (“katie”) for being such a great supporter to both Mrs Mud & myself. Also to the ClubHouse gang for seeing me through almost every mile..as virtual as it was, it kept my spirits up. I also owe a huge thanks to William Emerson…coach extraordinaire…who got me to train like I was actually having a great time & for being part of the Mud crew on the day that really counted…thanks for all the PR’s this year & for being such a great wealth of knowledge & an ear for my voice.
The biggest thanks has to go to Mrs Mud…what can I say. She owns as much of that buckle as anybody who had to run the race…she really is in a league of her own for putting up with all that training, diet, traveling, blisters, whining, dirt roads, & sleep deprivation. Thanks Sweetheart!