My race didn’t quite go as well as I had planned. I got sick early in the race and threw up regularly from Ouray to Oscar’s pass. I spent hours in aid stations trying to recover and pull myself together to be able to make it to the next aid station. For many miles, my pace could barely be considered walking. From my own perspective, this was the worst performance of my life. At times, it was downright pathetic. But at the end of the day, I was the 15th finisher to kiss the rock in Silverton. By Hardrock standards, my worst day was actually a pretty good run. Hardrock is a different kind of race.

The day started out extremely well. The first climb up over Little Giant seemed easy and the views from the top were exhilarating. I came into Cunningham well ahead of my planned pace so I took it easy and just tried to cruise through the next few sections. I ran with Duncan most of the way to Pole Creek and after that we played leap frog all the way to Governor’s Basin. On the downhill into Sherman, I ran a much faster pace than I thought I would but my legs still felt fresh, light, and quick on the switchbacks and I was really having fun.

Trouble started shortly after leaving Sherman. I had planned on taking it easy on the climb over Handies and thought that I had plenty of water and time to get over to Grouse. On the way out of Sherman, a volunteer on the road mentioned that storms might be blowing in. There were a few dark clouds forming so I mentally prepared myself for whatever rain, hail, sleet, and lightning the mountain could throw at me and headed up. Since I fully expected to freeze my ass off, I passed right by the last water drop at the trailhead and charged up the trail. I still had most of my hydration pack full from the Sherman station and it was only a 3 mile grunt to the top and all downhill from there to Grouse. Wrong. It was a 4 mile slog to the top and the descent had another 700ft bonus climb up out of the American Basin. Shortly after passing the last water drop, the sky cleared and the sun came out in full force. It never rained one drop and even at the very top at 14,000ft, I was roasting. And just as I made it to the summit, my water ran out. Oh crap! Fortunately there was plenty of snow and fresh run off on the trail near the top. I stopped and stuffed snow in my pack fully expecting that enough would melt on the way down to get me to Grouse in one piece. Not one drop melted. I stopped several times to slurp some water from streams and grabbed handfuls of snow to suck on but never managed to get more than a few sips. It would have been easier if I had a bottle to dip and fill and in hind sight, I should have dragged my hydration bladder out and scraped it through whatever run off I could get in it. Eventually the snow fields ended and I still had a few miles of dry, hot trail to cover to get to Grouse.

At Grouse, I took some extra time to sit and try to recover. Or at least I thought I took an extra long time at the aid station to pull myself together. But I was still caught up in the excitement of the race. Volunteers and crew were buzzing and Maria was geared up and ready to start pacing me through to Telluride. I left the aid station in less than 15 minutes planning to just walk most of Engineer pass while continuing to catch up on hydration and calories. Well, everyone in the best condition just walks up Engineer pass – seriously, what the hell was I thinking?!? And I quickly found that just walking up to 13,000ft isn’t the best environment to catch up on hydration. It was still roasting hot out and I stopped once to stick my head in a snowbank and then filled my shorts and arm sleeves with snow. Looking back now, I realize that I was already severely dehydrated and overheating and should have been more diligent in icing down to control my body temperature.

At the Engineer aid station, I started to feel better and managed to get a few orange slices down. I loaded up with a fistful of saltines to tide me over until I could get to the low point on the course in Ouray way down below at a reasonable elevation around 7700ft. As we dropped in elevation, I felt better and better and my legs were moving well on the nice gradual descent down the canyon. This is one of the sections of the course that most people are terrified of with a narrow trail winding along the side of a cliff and a sheer drop off just inches away with a raging river below. But the trail was really one of the smoothest and most runnable sections of the course. For a few miles, I forgot about how tired and sick I was and just had fun cruising down the trail. Towards the bottom, I met up with Matt Hart, on a section of loose shale. He warned me to save my quads and I joked that I lost my quads long ago. But honestly I felt pretty good. I’d spent months training my quads for this abuse and they were holding up better than I ever imagined. The shale snapped under our feet like dinner plates and I got a childlike satisfaction imagining that we were crashing our way through fine china so I kept stomping away down the hill.

By Ouray, I was feeling pretty good. I was tired and my stomach was still queasy but all things considered, I felt better than I thought I would 56 miles into this ordeal. I took another extended break at the aid station to re-hydrate, re-fuel, and re-charge for the big push up over Virginius to Telluride. Or at least I thought it was an extended break – I was out of the aid station in 12 minutes. And as soon as I checked out and turned the first corner out of sight, I threw up everything. This really wasn’t the condition I planned to start the 7.9 mile grind up Camp Bird road to the Governor Basin aid station.

The road to Governor Basin was a long, tedious climb. The only upside to being stuck on this road was that we could continue hiking into the dark without using our head lamps. Eventually Maria switched on her head lamp and I stayed a few yards behind in the shadows which helped to save my eyes and eliminate some of the dizzying effect of staring through a tunnel of artificial light. I threw up again along the way and finally realized just how bad my condition was. I was burning hot – even as the sun went down and the temperature started dropping. My forehead was dry and burning and I was dying of thirst. All I wanted to do was guzzle cold water. But I was so nauseous that my stomach protested at even the smallest sip. We still had several miles to cover to get to the aid station and I was seriously worried. I finally ditched the pacing goals and told Maria that we had to stop at the next available rock to sit. I needed to get water down and get myself to Governor Basin in a condition I could recover from. Pushing any harder could put me over the edge and end my race and probably put me in the hospital. It took over half a mile to find a rock to sit on. Seriously?!?! I planned to sit for as long as it took to get 10 sips of water down. I threw up once but bit by bit, slowly counted out the sips and let each settle.

We made it to Governor Basin and I told Maria I would stay there as long as it took to make sure I could recover enough to get up and over Virginius. Getting sick and crashing on Camp Bird road may have meant dropping out of the race to get a ride to the hospital. Getting stuck in this condition on the snow fields on Virginius at 13,000ft at night would be a search and rescue nightmare. Whatever finish goals I had set my sights on at the beginning of the race just weren’t worth the risk. And to confirm just how bad things could get, Hardrock veteran and 2010 champion, Jared Campbell, had been wrapped up in a sleeping bag for an hour when I got there. The volunteers where whispering to Jared’s pacer about dropping. He had an easy way out to just take a ride back down the hill to Ouray. But Jared surprised them and came back from the dead, geared up, let out a huge shout, and stormed out of the aid station up Virginius. Unfortunately Jared couldn’t pull off the same recovery again and eventually dropped in Telluride. I stayed at Governor for a full hour and threw up my first attempt at some tea, ginger ale, and a sandwich. Eventually I managed to alternate ginger ale, broth, and saltines to get enough liquid and fuel in me to have the confidence to push up and over Virginius.

The layover at Governor was just enough to get me up and over the top of Virginius and Maria and I made good time keeping up a steady hike up the pass. At the top, we were greeted by the world’s best aid station crew. Roch Horton, Fred Ecks, and a handful of other hard core volunteers were perched on a the ledge at the top of Virginius under a tiny little tarp. They had propane tanks, lights, and even a stereo blaring. Roch ushered me over to sit on the one available spot with a camp pad laid out while other volunteers draped a sleeping bag over me to keep me warm. In quick succession Roch handed me coke, chicken broth, and a pierogi. He was so efficient about it that I didn’t even have a chance to think about whether or not my stomach could handle it. I just drank and ate whatever he gave me. The pierogi was possibly the best food I’d had all day! While I swallowed the last of my pierogi, Roch gave some good words of encouragement and rattled off the stats, "I was doing great (really?), only 33 miles to the finish, 5 miles to Telluride, just a small 40ft climb over Mendota saddle, one snow field on the traverse below, and just a couple patches on the other side to get to good trail, and you’re out of here in 5, 4, 2, 2, 1." With that, I was on my feet and on my way down the hill.

I had my first big fall on the way down. Snow fields opened up to a really steep and rocky section with running water over loose gravel and scree. I tripped and went flying head first. I was able to get my hands up but I still had a firm grip on both trekking poles so I ended up punching both fists straight into the rocks in front of my face. I took most of the fall on my left arm and just barely bumped my head and rolled over through the running water. It hurt like hell and I couldn’t put much weight on my left arm. But I still was able to grip my pole and was able to use it for balance the rest of the way down.

By Telluride, I was getting seriously sick again. I threw up in the bushes in the park one more time and then settled into a chair to re-start the slow process of getting fluids and calories down bit by bit. Eric, Lisa, and my mom were here to help and while they may not think they did much, it was a huge help to have friends and family with me.

Just before dawn, I finally decided it was time to go and got up and headed up the long climb to Oscar’s with Eric. I was still nauseous and was barely able to keep up sipping water and nibbling on saltines. To make matters worse, I had developed a nasty cough. I kept hacking up crud from my lungs which threatened to trigger another violent episode of vomited every few minutes. Eric and I caught up with Blake through this section and we played a game of slow motion leap frog all the way to the Chapman aid station. I joked with Blake about racing as we traded places ….our head to head battle up to Oscar’s was probably a bit less exciting than watching senior citizens putter along with walkers and canes. At the top of Oscar’s we were rewarded with some amazing views. I actually felt fortunate that I had such a rough night. If I had pushed on through Governor and Telluride without stopping, I would have gone over this pass in the dark and missed some of the best views of the entire course. For a few moments I was having fun again, enjoying the views, and soaking in the experience of being out on such an amazing trail. And then I puked again. Just a few steps from the top on the last snow field, I just couldn’t hold it. I swear, my socks nearly came out through this one. It was awful.

On the other side of Oscar’s, I was greeted by the gnarliest, nastiest, pile of talus. It was almost impossible to walk through this jagged pile of rocks. I took back all the bad things I said about the climbs up the snow fields. This was just brutal!

At Chapman, my day finally started to turn around. Ryan and Megan were at the aid station waiting for their runner so it was nice to see some friendly faces. We all had a good laugh …mostly at Eric in his ridiculous outfit. He’d been wearing Kari’s pink running skirt and a hog heaven tank top all day. We laughed about some other stuff …I’m really not sure what. At this stage of exhaustion, you kind of have to laugh at everything. Otherwise you’d just break down and cry. Good times!

In our short stay at Chapman, I managed to get a cup of coffee down and ate a few cookies. Eric and I repacked our gear to take just what we needed to cover the last 18 miles to Silverton. It was still only a little after 10am and Eric pulled out one head lamp and asked if I thought we should take it. There was an awkward pause for a moment and the head lamp went back in the pack. "Only" 18 miles at Hardrock was still a long way to go and a lot could go wrong.

From Chapman to the finish I was able to keep drinking and eating cookies. I kept a schedule of 1 cookie per mile and wow, what a difference some consistent calories and fluids makes. We hiked steadily up Grant Swamp pass. I pulled myself up the final near-vertical scree chute almost entirely with my poles – just kicking my feet into the loose dirt for enough foothold to plant another pole up the slope and haul myself up another foot. We lingered at the top for a few moments to catch our breath, enjoy the views, and visit Joel Zucker’s memorial. After a few switchbacks of sliding and tip toeing through more nasty scree and rocks, the trail opened up and we were finally able to start running at a decent pace to the KT aid station below.

On the climb up to Putnam from KT, I finally got hit with a major hail storm. Fortunately we stayed below tree line for most of the storm and just got stopped for a few minutes at tree line with Nathan and Devon and several other runners. I was amazed at just how drastically the weather changed. My feet were numb from running through the hail and ice water filled single track and I was starting to have trouble bending my fingers to keep a good grip on my poles. Just 20 minutes earlier I had been roasting under the hot sun. And a mere 20 minutes later on our way up the endless climb to Putnam, I was roasting again under the blazing sun. On the climb to Putnam, the end was finally in sight and I finally started to get some energy for the final push. From the ridge it was all downhill to the finish. But wait, that one wasn’t the ridge. The top is the next ridge over on the right. Oh crap, that’s not it either. The top of the ridge is way the hell up on that next huge hill. Straight up the grassy slope, one pole plant and one foot step at a time. Ugh!

The cruise downhill from Putnam went well. Eric and I stopped just long enough to say hello to Mark Overson and check that we had enough water to make to the finish. I was able to move pretty well through most of the easy sections and only slowed down to pick my way through the intermittent talus fields along the way. At the bottom of the hill, we had one more challenge blocking our way to Silverton – the Mineral river crossing. The river crossing was roped off but after 97+ miles, getting across without losing my feet was no easy task. The water was waist deep and running fast. I had to hold the rope with both hands and lean with my full weight upstream with both legs locked. Each footstep was an effort and it felt like the current was going to rip my quads right off my bones.

After a few hundred yards hobbling on numb, tired legs, Eric and I got moving again ran the last couple miles into town. We hiked a couple of the last slopes, turned the corner at the top of the hill by the shrine and ran every step of the way through town. No one was chasing me at the time. I wasn’t racing any more and really didn’t have any reason to hurry. I just wanted to get to the finish. No matter how bad some of the run had been, I wanted to finish strong and I wanted to run. I can’t describe just how good it felt to get to the end and kiss than damn rock.

This event was far more than a race. Hardrock is ultra running at it’s best. It humbles the elite. It’s ruthlessly unforgiving of the ill prepared and inexperienced. Fierce competitors become allies. Strangers become friends. There is an overwhelming positive force from every person involved that wills you to succeed.

Congrats to all of the 80 official finishers as well as the 2 final finishers who made it back to Silverton after the cut off. Thanks to Duncan, Matt, Blake, Nathan, and Devon for the good company out on the trail. I’m glad you all made it to the finish line. Thanks to Eric and Maria for doing such an awesome job pacing and escorting me safely for over 60 miles to the finish. Thanks Mom and Lisa for coming out to support this crazy adventure driving all over Colorado and staying up all night in the middle of nowhere. And a huge thank you to all the volunteers who made this event possible.

I look forward to seeing everyone again in Silverton next July. If I don’t get a spot as a runner in the lottery, I’ll be out there to volunteer, pace, or crew to try to pay back some of the support that helped get me to the finish line this year.

For more insight into the Hardrock experience I recommend reading Nick, Joe, Dakota, Devon, and Tim‘s reports.

I’ll post more photos as soon as I have a chance to get them organized.

The map info is online here.

Bighorn is still one of my all time favorite events. The scenery on the trail is incredible and the race organization and support is fantastic. This year with record snow levels in the Bighorn mountains, the original course had to be re-routed but the race organizers did an excellent job pulling together a final runnable route just days before the race. The modified route included an extra out and back spur from Dry Fork, started in Dayton instead of up the road near the Tongue river trailhead, and turned around 2 stations below Porcupine at the Spring Marsh aid station. This made crew access a bit trickier with accessible points only at Dry Fork and Footbridge. But they managed to preserve the majority of the original 100 mile route and still managed to offer the same outstanding aid station support.

Victoria had medical approval to have a pacer for the full 100 miles of the race and after her second pacer dropped out with an injury, I was going to have to pace her for 75 miles from the second Dry Fork stop through to the finish. We figured she would be safe enough running with Kristel and other friends for the first 24.5 miles until she met me at Dry Fork.

In hind sight, I probably should have rested more for such a long stretch of pacing. But there just didn’t seem to be any time between the start of the race in Dayton, driving up to Dry Fork, meeting and helping other runners coming into and out of Dry Fork. The morning and afternoon flew by and I spent the day caught up in the commotion at the aid station. This really caught up with me later in the evening. And as a word of warning, if anyone decides to pace Victoria, make sure you show up well rested and bring your A game. She set the pace the entire time I ran with her and just kept moving relentlessly. She powered up the wall to Bear Camp in the dark like it was nothing. And even when she got tired, she still kept up a determined hiking pace. Unfortunately I turned out to be the worst pacer ever. After warning Victoria about the hazards of stopping and sitting at comfortable aid stations, I was the first to say hell yes to a nice chair by the fire at Spring Marsh. Somewhere in the dark between Bear Camp and Cow Camp, I got really drowsy and started getting tunnel vision in the beam of my headlamp. Reflective trail markers on the trees started to melt and drip down the tree trunks. I dropped back behind Victoria several times and finally told her I needed to take a minute to just stop and close my eyes to refocus again. Asking Victoria to stop when she was still trucking along over 65 miles into her run when I had only gone about 40 miles qualifies me as the absolute worst pacer ever.

We managed to make it through the night and arrived at Cow Camp for a brief breakfast break. On the way back to Dry Fork, we crossed paths with the 50 mile runners. The re-routed 50 mile course started at Dry Fork and went out and back to Footbridge. On the normal race route, the different race distances usually merge together at the mid to back of the pack closer to the finish. This year it was really nice to see the full 50 mile field. They were only about 2 miles into their race and the front runners were flying. It was great to see the rest of our Fort Collins friends charge by us and it helped give both Victoria and I an energy boost to push the final miles in to the Dry Fork aid station.

On the way to the Twin Buttes aid station at the end of the spur from Dry Fork, Victoria started to get really dizzy with bad tunnel vision and spots. She was able to walk the last tenth of a mile into the aid station and stopped for an extended break to warm up, drink some fluids, and try to recover. Unfortunately she wasn’t snapping out of it and with her condition, it wasn’t safe to push through this. So she made the smart decision to drop. It’s really too bad that it ended this way since she was doing so well right up to the end. But she made it home safe and healthy and is already coming around to start considering another 100 miler.

And despite getting my but kicked on the overnight out on the trail, I really had a great time. We had a huge group of friends out there from Fort Collins and Boulder with a lot of firsts and PR’s in all events. This is definitely an event that I’d like to make an annual tradition.

Here’s a link to Alex’s 50 mile report. After resting up at the park, I jogged up the road and ran the last mile in with him.

Here are a few photos from the weekend:

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So I figured it would be easier to organize and post all of my info in one place here.

I’ve posted the full 100 mile map and elevation profile here.

For current snow levels, check the Bald Mtn Snotel site. It’s a few hundred feet higher than Porcupine but it’ll give you a rough idea of what to expect at the high end of the course.

Jim O’Neil and Sue Norwood are regulars at Bighorn and they might be up in the area to train a few weeks before the race. They posted a bunch of photos before the 2009 race. These were really helpful to see what the trail conditions were like leading up to the race.

Some additional reading:

My 2009 100 mile race report and photos.

Rob’s 2010 race report.

Nick’s 2009 race report.

Alex’s 2010 50 mile race report.

A lot of other locals have run the Bighorn 50k, 50 mile, and 100 mile races. If you come out and join any of our FCTR group runs, there’s a good chance that you’ll meet at least 2 or 3 people who have experience out on the course.

Yesterday I went out and trudged up and down some of my usual routes in Horsetooth but only managed to squeeze out an average 260 feet of vertical gain per mile. Usually I’d consider this a pretty good workout but for Hardrock, I’ll need to run an average of 340 feet per mile. For 100 milers, I usually aim to run the same or slightly more vertical feet within a 100 mile training week. Since I don’t live at the base of Green or Bear mountain in Boulder and can only squeeze about 180 feet per mile out of my backyard trails here in Fort Collins, this is going to be a real challenge.

So today I went out to give Greyrock a try. I was expecting to run through some nasty snow but was pleasantly surprised to find the trail almost 100% clear and dry.

Not bad for February!

It’s still much lower elevation than Hardrock but it at least has the 340-350 feet per mile of vertical that I need. So until the snow melts and I can get higher up into the mountains, I’ll be spending a lot of time on Greyrock. By April or early May, I plan to tackle the full Greyrock 6-Pack. I still need to redeem myself after failing to complete the full Greyrock Quad with Eric and Terry in 2008. After a nasty fall, I skipped one final summit so I only managed to finish 3.75 laps. A full 6 laps should be enough to put that day behind me for good:-)

I’m still trying to figure out the rest of my plan for Hardrock. I’m sure it’ll include several trips down to Boulder for some inSanitas laps, Bear bagging, and repeats on Green. Pikes Peak might be a good option later in the spring if the weather cooperates. And until I can get up in elevation and find enough vertical feet to run, I’ll continue to supplement my trail running with speed work, hill intervals and tempo/time trials, and weight training. But preparing for Hardrock is uncharted territory for me so I’m open to any suggestions.

The day started off well enough. The 5am start is pretty early but made a world of difference from the 4am starts at Leadville and Vermont. I at least started off the day feeling somewhat rested and normal. But I already new that I was going to have a difficult day. In the three weeks after Leadville I cut back on my running mileage significantly and started taking more rest days. But the more I tried to rest and recover, the worse I felt. My last easy social jog with the Fort Collins Trail Runners the previous Tuesday felt like a chore. I was getting winded on easy climbs and my legs were aching and sore. I was in no condition to race …let alone finish a difficult mountain 100 miler. But I had set out to finish the Grand Slam series 9 months ago and couldn’t quit after finishing the first 3 events.

Chris and I at the start. And no, we didn’t plan to coordinate outfits.

Chris and I at the start. And no, we didn’t plan to coordinate outfits.

The first 18 miles went fairly well. I started out fairly slowly and settled into a nice easy pace somewhere in the middle of the pack. The weather was cold and foggy for most of the morning and there was a dusting of wet snow at the top of the first climb on Chinscraper. It would have liked to see the view with clear skies but the cool weather at the start of the race made for perfect running conditions and I was able to keep on top of fueling and hydration fairly well.

Still doing OK so far.

Still doing OK so far.

Eric met me at the Francis Peak aid station and gave me some reassurance that I was running well at a good pace. At the time I was roughly on pace for a 24 hour finish. But 18 miles is far too early to start thinking about the finish line and I knew that my current condition and pace wasn’t going to hold up much longer. Shortly after leaving Francis Peak, somewhere around mile 25, fatigue finally set in. My legs felt like they did at mile 75 at Western States. At Vermont, it was mile 60. And at Leadville, it was mile 40.

Still running but my legs are in serious pain.

Still running but my legs are in serious pain.

By mile 30, my legs were starting to hurt and on the last downhill coming into the Big Mountain aid station at mile 39, I was in serious pain. I stopped to sit and eat and try to pull myself together for the next leg. Eric informed me that Chris was only about 45 minutes behind me. I thought it would be nice to have some company on the trail so I told Eric that if Chris could catch up a bit more, I’d wait for him at Lamb’s Canyon. Now I had something positive to look forward to. I just needed to get to the next crew checkpoint at mile 53 and I could meet up with Chris. But shortly after walking out of the Big Mountain aid station I realized that Chris could probably catch up with me on the trail and if he did, I wouldn’t be able to keep up. The pain in my legs was getting worse so I focused on alternating walking and jogging at regular intervals. The downhills were getting more and more difficult and I could barely manage a slow shuffle down some of the rockier sections.

Sure enough, Chris arrived shortly after I made it to Lamb’s Canyon. We both took some extra time to get ready for the next long leg to the Mill Creek aid station and then headed out together. It was a huge help to have Chris’ company on this section. He really pulled me a long the entire way keeping a strong, steady pace on the uphill climbs and even pulling ahead on the downhills. This part of a 100 miler is always the toughest – 50 to 60 miles is far enough to hurt like hell but is too far from the finish to comprehend making it through to the end. I really don’t know if I would have been able to make it on my own.

I remember feeling pretty lousy at this point. But I guess I still managed to keep smiling. Getting crew support from Eric and meeting up with Chris really helped.

I remember feeling pretty lousy at this point. But I guess I still managed to keep smiling. Getting crew support from Eric and meeting up with Chris really helped.

We covered the last few miles up the Millcreek road in the dark and by the time we reached the aid station, it was freezing cold. Neither Chris or I had packed enough cold weather gear in our drop bags but fortunately Chris’ friends Jay and Erick drove up to meet him and they pulled every bit of extra clothing they had in their van out and made a nice little yardsale for Chris and I. Erick loaned me a fleece jacket and Jay gave me the sweatpants he was wearing. If I hadn’t been lucky enough to meet up with Chris and if Jay and Erick hadn’t decided to drop in to meet Chris at Millcreek, there’s no way I would have finished this race. And aside from the extra warm clothes, it was really nice to meet up with friends and get some positive encouragement. Jay said we both still looked great. I told him that it was dark and he obviously couldn’t see very well.

Chris and I saved from freezing at Mill Creek with warm clothes borrowed from Jay and Erick. There’s no way I would have survived with what I packed in my drop bags.

Chris and I saved from freezing at Mill Creek with warm clothes borrowed from Jay and Erick. There’s no way I would have survived with what I packed in my drop bags.

Shortly after leaving Millcreek, Chris started pulling ahead again. I knew I couldn’t keep up with him and I told him to go on ahead at his own pace. It was too cold to slow down and wait for me. The next sections to Desolation Lake at mile 67 and Scotts Tower at mile 71 were a complete blur. It was dark and I was cold, hurting, and exhausted. It was a struggle just to stay awake and I had to stop several times to just lean on my trekking poles and rest my eyes. I was afraid of stopping in the cold so I started using my poles to keep myself upright walking hand over hand one step at a time. At Scotts Tower, I stopped to sit in the tent and take a longer rest. Scott Kunz was just getting ready to leave when I arrived. He invited me to join his group but since they had passed me somewhere in the dark after Millcreek, there was no way I’d be able to keep up. It was still nice to see another friend there – even if it was just for a minute. After a couple cups of hot soup and coffee, I got myself back on my feet and headed down the hill to Brighton. I was able to shuffle along OK for the first couple of miles but exhaustion set in again and I could only manage the same hand over hand walk one pole and one step at a time. I don’t remember much about this section other than a seemingly endless paved road into Brighton.

Somehow I made it to the lodge. I think it was sometime around 3am and since I had until 5pm to officially finish the last 25 miles, I decided to take some extra time to stop and rest. The lodge was crowded and cold but I found a corner space on the floor to sit and eat. I got changed into fresh dry shorts, clean socks, and the rest of my cold weather gear that I had left in the crew bag with Eric. And after a second thought, I put Jay’s sweatpants back on over my running tights. I tried to take a short nap but it was too noisy and cold to really get comfortable. At the very least it was good to stretch my legs out, lie down flat, and close my eyes for a while. At about 4:35am I was ready to head out again and hoped that this short break had been enough to get me to the finish.

Trying to pull myself back together at Brighton Lodge. Changed into dry, warmer clothes and fresh socks. Got some good food and hot soup and tried to take a 30min nap.

Trying to pull myself back together at Brighton Lodge. Changed into dry, warmer clothes and fresh socks. Got some good food and hot soup and tried to take a 30min nap.

The climb out of Brighton to the high point on the course at 10,500ft was still freezing cold. But with fresh warm clothes and a little bit of energy, we made it to the top at a steady pace. But on the next descent down the other side, I started falling apart. The downhill was steep and rocky and my legs were completely shot. I supported my weight on the way down almost entirely with my trekking poles which was an exhausting and difficult process. It started to get light out but it was just a cold gray reminder that I had been up all day and all night. Instead of feeling a boost of energy with a new day, I just felt dead tired. My eyes blurred, I got dizzy, and just barely caught myself on my poles before pitching forward onto the trail. I held on for a couple seconds before my legs buckled and I dropped to the side of the trail and lay flat on my back. I barely remember lying there but Eric says I was out cold and snoring in 10 seconds flat. We were only about 500 yards from the Ant Knolls aid station but I just couldn’t quite make it.

The Brighton rest stop wasn’t enough. We left at about 4:35am and made it over the highest climb of the day and was on our way to Ant Knolls aid at mile 80.3 by dawn. I passed out at about mile 80.1.

The Brighton rest stop wasn’t enough. We left at about 4:35am and made it over the highest climb of the day and was on our way to Ant Knolls aid at mile 80.3 by dawn. I passed out at about mile 80.1.

I don’t remember getting up but I guess I eventually did and managed to make it to the aid station. Ant Knolls was by far the best aid station on the entire course. Granted any aid station that I arrived at in the condition I was in would have been a welcome sight. But they had a huge tent with cots, sleeping bags, and a heater going. The volunteers were busy cooking a ton of food for breakfast and they had muffins, apple strudel, OJ, coffee, and pretty much anything you could possibly think of. I headed straight for a cot and got into a warm sleeping bag and finally managed to get some good quality sleep. I think I slept for about 30-40min and then took a few more minutes to eat and have some coffee. The sun hadn’t hit the aid station yet so it was still freezing cold when Eric and I set back out onto the trail. But after a short half mile climb we came out onto an open ridge into beautiful warm sunshine. It was the start of a brand new day!

Early Sat morning at Ant Knolls.

Early Sat morning at Ant Knolls.

Half a mile after Ant Knolls we emerged on a beautiful ridge with warm sunshine.

Half a mile after Ant Knolls we emerged on a beautiful ridge with warm sunshine.

Everyone had warned me about how difficult the last 25 miles of the Wasatch course are. I had expected to endure miles and miles of the same technical, steep, nasty trail that we came down on our way to Ant Knolls. But I was pleasantly surprised to find miles of beautiful rolling single track trail with gorgeous views of the surrounding mountains. I was still tired and hurting but I was re-energized and able to stay awake and alert. My legs had finally loosened up a bit and I was able to keep up a slow jogging pace with the extra help of my poles. The trail was mostly dirt so it was easier to dig in the poles on the descents and get a good grip on the climbs. And I even started to use them on the flats getting into a rhythm alternating jogging and double poling. I don’t even remember going down the infamous Dive or Plunge. They were just a couple short, steep sections with ankle deep dust that didn’t seem too bad in broad daylight.

One of my favorite pictures from the course. I was hurting, broken down, and beyond exhausted. But this course was just spectacular start to finish.

One of my favorite pictures from the course. I was hurting, broken down, and beyond exhausted. But this course was just spectacular start to finish.

Bit by bit, I checked off the miles counting down to the finish. At the last aid station at Pot Bottom at mile 93, I stopped for one last time to eat, drink, and put my feet up to rest. When I got up, I set out determined to at least finish these last 7 miles strong. Eric and I power hiked up the last climb at a brisk pace and passed several other runners on the way up. Other than a couple minor dips along the way, it was all downhill to the finish line. I took off as fast as I could go. My legs hurt like hell but at this point, there wasn’t anything left to save them for. Going downhill was going to hurt no matter how fast I went and I was determined to finish this course running. I can’t tell you how good that last 100 yards of grass at the Homestead felt.

32 Hours 56 Minutes 19 Seconds.
Certainly not my best running performance but an incredible experience that I’m not sure I can describe.

32 Hours 56 Minutes 19 Seconds.
Certainly not my best running performance but an incredible experience that I’m not sure I can describe.

The finish at Wasatch was fairly anti-climactic. After having such amazing support at all of the 15 aid stations along the way, it was strange to arrive at the finish to find absolutely nothing there other than some other runners and crews milling about or sleeping. A guy who I assume was in charge of timing asked me what my number was and then walked away. There wasn’t a single volunteer. No medical staff. And no food. Eric found some water but I think it was from another crew who left shortly after. Fortunately other than being extremely tired and having the usual post race cramps and aches, I was in decent shape. The support from the volunteers along the way was what I really needed to finish so I can’t complain too much about the finish. I’ll would definitely go back and run this one again. I’d love to see how I could do fully trained, tapered, and rested. The course was absolutely incredible. The event was well organized with very detailed pre-race information and the course was marked extremely well. The event also had a great atmosphere of tradition from a lot of local runners who come back year after year to run or volunteer. I would definitely recommend this event and don’t think the 27,000ft of elevation gain should scare anyone off. It’s definitely a more challenging course than other 100 milers but it’s well supported and has a generous cut off. And the field is just large enough that you still see people on the trail on a regular basis but small enough that you can really enjoy the trail.

So this ends my Grand Slam for 2010. I’ve had dozens of people congratulate me on the accomplishment and everyone tells me how much of a big deal this is. But I really don’t think so. Plenty of other runners out there have run multiple hundreds in one season. Many have run more races and have run harder races. Many have run faster and even more have run far better than I have. There is sometimes a difference between running fast and running well. I may have finished Vermont and Leadville with respectable times but I know I didn’t run well. I deteriorated and got weaker with each race and just survived long enough to make it to the finish line. During my long ordeal at Wasatch, I didn’t overcome any monumental personal struggle. It wasn’t an achievement of will power or personal strength of my own. I only finished with the help and support of friends and family, hundreds of volunteers, and the positive encouragement of other runners along the way. Every email and phone call that I received before the race helped. And even though I had no idea who might be looking, I knew someone might be refreshing the online race results hoping to see me make it to the next aid station. I don’t remember when it was but Eric passed a message along from Kari sometime at the end of the race. Every little bit of support along the way helped. Personally I was physically and mentally beat and broken down. I just kept moving because I didn’t want to let anyone down.

So thanks to everyone who supported me along the way this year.

Next year I may run another 100 miler but before I make any plans, I intend to fill my schedule paying back favors pacing, crewing, and volunteering.

Click here for the full photo album.

Here’s the full interactive course map:

Leadville is really an over-priced, over-hyped, over-crowded event on a mediocre course. I will say that the event has a lot of potential. It could really be a world class race if it were organized with the same level of support and competition as Western States. After running events like Western States, Vermont, and Bighorn, paying $300 for Leadville is quite a let down.

If they can’t run the entire race on decent trails, they could at least make use of the miles and miles of perfectly accessible road to set up decent aid stations. I had a miserable time covering the final 10 mile stretch over Sugarloaf and the last 13.5 miles from May Queen and I can’t comprehend how anyone at the back of the pack pushing to make the cut offs could manage that. The race would have a much better finish rate with just a few more aid stations along the way. But I guess that’s part of the money making system. Bring in as many entries as possible from anyone and everyone and bank on a high DNS and DNF rate to pocket the profits. The volunteer aid station crews that were out there were fantastic. Especially the team that packed in gear on Llamas and camped on Hope pass. I just wish the race organizers would set up more aid station crews on the course.

And the sheer volume of trash on the trails really put me in a bad mood. On the way outbound, there weren’t more than 30-40 runners ahead of me but I still saw more dropped gel packets and other trash than I’d seen at every ultra I’ve run in the past two years. The runners who dropped that trash weren’t the brain dead zombies who couldn’t manage to hold onto a gel tab with swollen fingers. That’s just unacceptable behavior. On the way inbound, Eric filled his pockets with trash several times between Twin Lakes and Fish Hatchery. But even that was a losing battle and a token effort at best.

So I guess I can’t be surprised at my final performance at the race. You just can’t run a 100 miles well without being fulling mentally committed. I started out thinking that I might be able to run sub-20 if I had an exceptionally good day. At the very least I thought I could run under 24 hours comfortably. Well, I didn’t have an exceptionally good day and I think I’ve finally realized that if I continue to run races back to back each month like this, I probably won’t. I didn’t run under 24 hours either and it wasn’t comfortable.

The morning started out fairly well and I settled into a pretty brisk pace with the long line of runners making their way through the winding trail around Turquoise Lake to May Queen. I knew I had to push the pace a bit here to avoid getting stuck in a traffic jam with the rest of the 700 runners. But the pace actually felt pretty comfortable and I was in and out of May Queen a couple minutes ahead of my 20 hour goal.

The climb up Sugar Loaf was one of the nicest parts of the day. We hit daybreak and sunrise on this section and I had a chance to chat and catch up with a few other runners – Rod Bien, Neal Gorman, and Tim Waggoner. The climb felt pretty easy and relaxed and on the decent down Powerline my legs felt exceptionally good and I took and opportunity to jump ahead of a few runners.

Eric and Victoria were waiting for me at Fish Hatchery and had me loaded up and back on the road with fresh bottles of ice water and another packet of shot blocks without breaking stride. Unfortunately the next section included a few miles of pancake flat paved road and a long, gradual uphill on dirt road to the Half Moon aid station at mile 30. My paced dropped off considerably here and a couple dozen runners passed me. I wasn’t hurting and kept running steadily on this section. I’m just not that great at the flat easy stuff and was moving as fast as I could comfortably go.

Half Moon to Twin Lakes was a fairly nice section along the Colorado Trail. The course finally leaves the dirt roads and there area few really nice miles of winding trails through Aspen groves with an occasionally view of the valley to the east. The last couple miles into Twin Lakes is a pretty abrupt drop down to the low point on the course at 9200ft. Again, my legs felt great on the downhill and it was nice to really pick up some speed again after the last 15 miles of slow grinding.

Eric and Victoria had me in and out of Twin Lakes again without breaking stride and I was off to tackle the first climb up Hope Pass. The first couple miles leaving Twin Lakes crosses an open, marshy meadow with several stream crossings. Most of the water crossings weren’t much more than shallow puddles but the one real river crossing was ice cold and thigh deep. This really sucked the energy right out of me and it took about thirty minutes of slow shuffling to get any life back into my feet. The first climb up Hope was slower than I expected. I didn’t feel that bad at this point in the race but I just didn’t have much power in my step and wasn’t able to keep up my usually fast hiking speed. This was the first part of the race that I realized that I definitely wasn’t operating at 100% of my ability and 20 hours probably wasn’t a realistic goal to push for. On the other side of Hope I managed to loosen up and got the legs moving at a good downhill clip again. One hiker shouted that I was the fastest descent they’d seen so far ….so while I was pretty weak on my climbs and super slow on the flats, I had that going for me today.

After the fun bomb down the backside of Hope, I had to endure 3 gradual uphill miles on the dirt road to Winfield. The road and the climb weren’t all that bad but the endless line of crew vehicles kicking up dust was miserable. So here’s one more reason never to run this event. There is absolutely no reason to have this many cars driving on the same dusty dirt road that the runners are on. It would be far better to either set the aid station at the junction to Hope Pass or set up a shuttle bus for crews and pacers.

I made it to Winfield in good time in 9 hours and 20 minutes. That was just 20 minutes slower than my 20 hour goal pace so I was still pretty happy about that. Unfortunately my legs were starting to tighten up and slow down so I knew that I’d be considerably slower on the return trip to Leadville. Eric took the first shift pacing from Winfield and after a quick weight check and bottle hand off from Victoria, we were back on the dusty road on our way home.

The second climb up Hope Pass was grueling and horribly slow. My legs were weak and the heat was starting to beat down and drain my energy. But despite my feeble climb up the backside, it was nice to see all of our friends still working their way down. Stopping to say hello to everyone – Alan, Mike, Chris, Michael, Shad, Olan, Karla, Ning, Dan, Cat, Mark, and Allen (…if I forgot anyone, I blame low blood sugar and altitude for the memory loss) – was a nice excuse for a break to rest my legs. The altitude started to get to me at this point as well so I took a slightly longer break at the Hopeless Pass aid station to try to eat some crackers, drink some extra water, and stretch and rest my legs. The short rest paid off and Eric and I were able to pick up the pace on the long descent to make up some time.

At Twin Lakes since the 20 hour goal was out of consideration, I changed gears to try to make the most of the aid stations. I changed into fresh socks after the slog through the rivers and mud across the meadow and I took some extra time to try to drink and eat a little more before tackling the next 9 mile stretch to Half Moon. Eric and I power walked up the hill from Twin Lakes and then continued to walk/jog along the rolling Colorado Trail. This section tops out at about 10,500ft and I was definitely starting to feel the altitude again. I was feeling pretty lousy having trouble getting shot blocks or any other food down and was losing ground on my hydration. A couple miles from the Half Moon aid station, I puked for the first time. Not much came up so I really didn’t lose anything but it sure wasn’t fun and it just drained me of my energy. I spent some extra time at Half Moon and was able to re-fuel and recharge a bit to make the next easy section in to Fish Hatchery. I wasn’t moving very fast at this point but Eric and I got into a pretty good rhythm of jogging 15 minutes and then walking to drink and eat whatever I could.

If I only had to cover 7 easy miles between stops, finishing wouldn’t have been too difficult at our pace. But Fish Hatchery to May Queen was going to be a 10 mile grind up and over Sugar Loaf. And the reward for surviving this gruelling 10 miles after May Queen? An endless 13.5 mile stretch to the finish line without any more aid. After enduring 76.5 difficult miles at altitude, that’s a real kick in the balls. So I took my time eating and drinking at Fish Hatchery to prepare for the worst that was yet to come. Victoria took over pacing with fresh legs and plenty of energy to spare.

On the climb up Powerline, I hit my toughest point of the race. I was tired. I was barely keeping up with hydration and I barely had any calories in the last 20 miles. And worst of all, it was getting late and I was unable to get down any caffeine. I was beyond bonking – I was going cross eyed falling asleep on my feet. 4am starts really suck. Especially if you have to be up all night. And we were going up to 11,000ft again and I was getting sicker and feeling worse and worse every step we climbed. Partway up the climb, I took a break to lie down in the gravel on the road. You know you’re in rough shape when you think that cold gravel feels wonderful. I asked Victoria to give me 4-5minutes to close my eyes and it felt really good to rest for a minute. After the race, she admitted that she only gave me a minute and a half ….but it helped. A couple more times I had to stop and kneel down, put my head on the ground, and close my eyes to be able to get back up and see straight. The last time I stopped, my friend Caroline caught up with me while pacing her runner and encouraged me to get back up. Having another friend out there in the dark was a welcome sup rise and I was able to jog part of the way back down the hill towards May Queen with them.

At May Queen I was completely wrecked, tired, and ready to be done with this race. Eric and Victoria found me a seat outside the tent (there was no way in hell I was going near the heaters inside) and I was able to finally get some decent calories with half a turkey sandwich, two cups of tea, some coke, and water. I took as much time as I could at this stop since I wouldn’t have any other chance for aid until the finish. I was already over my 24 hour goal but as long as I didn’t fall on my face or break a leg, I could make it to the finish under 25 hours for the big belt buckle award.

The extra calories, water, and caffeine had me refreshed and moving again. For about 3 and a half miles Victoria and I managed to roll along the trails around Turquoise at a steady clip. We were still alternating walking and jogging but making decent time. Unfortunately when that wore off, I still had 10 more miles to go. *$@#! Our pace deteriorated into a shuffle/walk and since we were getting close to the finish, I thought I’d risk taking a caffeine pill to see if it would give me enough kick to make it. Nope. I spent another 5 minutes hugging a tree puking my guts out. My sandwich from May Queen didn’t come up so I was happy about that.

The route around Turquoise lake goes through a large campground and in the dark, it’s impossible to tell where the trail goes with camp sites and paths in all directions. Victoria and I were wandering around in circles looking for trail markers while letting loose an endless stream of profanity directed at Ken Chlouber for taking in nearly a quarter million in entry fees plus sponsorships and not bothering to shell out a couple bucks for a @#$ %&$ @!#$@ing glow stick for the campground. And by the way, this would make a perfectly good spot for a #$%^ing aid station. Just then a couple lights appeared on the trail behind us and it was Aaron Marks from Fort Collins pacing Charlie Cowan, who paced me at Vermont last month. Aaron had camped out at Turquoise lake for the weekend and new the way through the campground. So Victoria and I hitched a ride on their wagon for a few miles. Charlie was flying! He was moving a bit too fast for my ability at the time but it was a good mental boost to have a group of friends on the trail and I went with it as long as I could.

About 4.5 miles from the finish, the trail makes a steep drop for about a quarter mile down a rocky slope. For the last time, I was able to bounce down the hill without any trouble. My legs still felt good on the gnarly downhills. …Too bad this course is mostly flat. When I hit the bottom back onto a flat dirt road I realized I had dropped Victoria, Aaron, and Charlie behind. So I took the opportunity to stand still for a moment and try to get an S-Cap and some water down. Nope, bad idea. I spent about 10 minutes puking on the side of the road and that’s the last I saw of Aaron and Charlie until the finish. I swear this one came out of my eyeballs. This took the last bit of energy out of me and for the rest of the way to the finish, I didn’t eat or drink. The final 3 miles is a lonely dirt road that just seems to go on forever. I really wanted to just walk quietly in the dark to get to the finish in one piece but runners kept coming up behind me flashing lights back and forth like a disco. I’d cut my light off and stand aside to let them go to avoid getting dizzy from the lights. And of course, everyone would shine a light at me and ask if I was OK. I’d have to explain that I’d be OK as soon as they got the light out of my face and moved on up the road. Ugh!

In the final mile once we hit the pavement, I started jogging again. Other runners would shout out encouragement along the way. I just told Victoria that she needed to be nice to them and answer for me since I wasn’t going to say anything. I crossed the finish line in 24:36 and kept on walking straight to the medical weight check and found myself a cold quite spot on the lawn to sit down and recover. I didn’t need medical attention, didn’t have any injuries, and was done in under 25 hours for the big buckle. That’s good enough for me to cross this one off my list for good.

Personally, my run was terrible. A 9:20/15:16 split is pretty ugly. Many other runners who finished slower than I did had far better runs. As for the event, I really didn’t enjoy it. I won’t ever run this one again and I certainly wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. But the best part of this weekend was having so many friends out on the trail. I can’t thank Eric and Victoria enough for their support. I’ve been in worse shape physically but I hit a real mental low at this race and they both put up with it for the last 50 miles. It was great to see so many other friends out at every aid station. And it was great to share the trail with so many other close friends.

This video from Melissa Young does a good job showing the ups and downs of the race.

Leadville 100 Trail Run 2010 from Melissa Young on Vimeo.

Here are some photos from the weekend:

Leadville Trail 100 Run 2010

Our Leadville home away from home. Our Leadville home away from home.	Relaxing pre-race with a house full of Special Idiots. We lost track of how many people stayed here over the weekend. Relaxing pre-race with a house full of Special Idiots. We lost track of how many people stayed here over the weekend.
At the start with Chris, Dan, Mile, and Liz. At the start with Chris, Dan, Mile, and Liz.	The mad dash at the start. 3 miles of fast downhill to get ahead of the 700 runners who will cram their way through the narrow trail around Turquoise lake. The mad dash at the start. 3 miles of fast downhill to get ahead of the 700 runners who will cram their way through the narrow trail around Turquoise lake.
Daybreak climbing Sugarloaf between May Queen and Fish Hatchery. Daybreak climbing Sugarloaf between May Queen and Fish Hatchery.
Coming into Fish Hatchery behing Rod Bien. Coming into Fish Hatchery behing Rod Bien.	The view of Elbert, Massive, and the other mountains around the valley almost made this stretch of pavement tolerable. ….almost. The view of Elbert, Massive, and the other mountains around the valley almost made this stretch of pavement tolerable. ….almost.
Mt Massive Mt Massive	We’re going way down there over that ridge in the distance. We’re going way down there over that ridge in the distance.
A long stretch of dirt road after Half Moon aid station. A long stretch of dirt road after Half Moon aid station.
I puked here on the way back. I puked here on the way back.	Bombing down the hill into Twin Lakes. Bombing down the hill into Twin Lakes.
Victoria crewing at Twin Lakes. Victoria crewing at Twin Lakes.	Heading out across the meadown from Twin Lakes towards Hope Pass. Heading out across the meadown from Twin Lakes towards Hope Pass.
	Hope Pass on the way up outbound. Hope Pass on the way up outbound.
Hopeless Pass Aid station. These volunteers were incredible camping out here for the weekend. Hopeless Pass Aid station. These volunteers were incredible camping out here for the weekend.	Llamas packed in the aid station gear. Llamas packed in the aid station gear.
The view back down towards Twin Lakes. The view back down towards Twin Lakes.	At the top of Hope Pass. At the top of Hope Pass.
The long slow climb back up Hope Pass the second time. The poles really helped since my legs were shot. The long slow climb back up Hope Pass the second time. The poles really helped since my legs were shot.
At the top of Hope Pass for the last time. At the top of Hope Pass for the last time.	Cruising down a gorgeous stretch of trail on the way down to Twin Lakes inbound. Cruising down a gorgeous stretch of trail on the way down to Twin Lakes inbound.
Eric at the river crossing on the way to Twin Lakes. Eric at the river crossing on the way to Twin Lakes.	One of the many stream/puddle crossings on the way to Twin Lakes. One of the many stream/puddle crossings on the way to Twin Lakes.
Victoria crewing at Twin Lakes. Victoria crewing at Twin Lakes.	A short break, sock change, and some extra calories at Twin Lakes with extra help from Kristen and Steve. A short break, sock change, and some extra calories at Twin Lakes with extra help from Kristen and Steve.
On the Colorado Trail headed to Halfmoon inbound. On the Colorado Trail headed to Halfmoon inbound.
	Eric took a few really nice pictures just before sunset. Eric took a few really nice pictures just before sunset.
	Last light headed towards Fish Hatchery. Last light headed towards Fish Hatchery.
Fish Hatchery aid station inbound. Fish Hatchery aid station inbound.	Resting and refueling at Fish Hatchery. Victoria is ready to run …unfortunately she wouldn’t get much opportunity to run in the next 23.5 miles. Resting and refueling at Fish Hatchery. Victoria is ready to run …unfortunately she wouldn’t get much opportunity to run in the next 23.5 miles.
May Queen aid station. I’m actualy feeling much better now. May Queen aid station. I’m actualy feeling much better now.	Stick a fork in me …I’m done. Stick a fork in me …I’m done.

The start of the race was much better than I expected. Despite the 4am start time, I felt well rested and ready to run. We had a nice cool, clear morning which felt pretty comfortable. I was surprised to find myself running in the lead pack with Andy Jones-Wilkins, Neal Gorman, Andy Henshaw, David Larsen, and a couple others. Andy Henshaw pulled out into the lead after a few miles but for the most part, we had a nice brisk social run for the first 17 miles before everyone settled into their own pace and spread out. I dropped back and let a few more runners pass me but still managed to make it to the Pretty House aid station at mile 21 on target for a 17 hour finish.

On the next leg on the way to Stage Road, the course crossed through some open fields and the uneven footing aggravated my right foot which was still a bit sore from Western States. I wasn’t able to run the downhill’s as fast as I wanted to but managed to get to Stage Road (mile 30) in good time still on track for my 17 hour pacing plan.

It was already starting to heat up even before 9am so I packed some extra ice in my bandanna and headed out on the next leg to Camp 10 Bear. Since 17 hours was my most optimistic goal for the day, I figured I’d just work through this next leg a bit slower and try to survive the heat as well as I could. My legs were already feeling like they did 50 miles into Western States so this next stretch was pretty hard work to keep grinding along at a steady pace. Several more runners passed me along this section but I didn’t worry about it too much. There were still plenty of miles to go and it was too early to start counting on any finish time or place. I reset my pacing goals to 18-19 hours and figured I’d keep at this pace through the heat and try to catch up later in the evening after it cools off.

I made it to the first Camp 10 Bear stop at mile 47 feeling pretty worn out but still in decent shape and still on target for 18-19 hours. Unfortunately the next leg on the long loop back to Camp 10 Bear at mile 70 killed me. My legs were dead and it was a struggle to just keep moving. I just kept focusing on getting from one aid station to the next. Runners were passing me in waves at this point which was discouraging. But I kept reminding myself that I was still on track to finish in good time under 20 hours. All I needed to do was survive this rough stretch and hope that I would recover later. After about 50 miles I was having trouble getting calories in. On the nice downhill section to Tracer Brook, I could barely manage to keep up an 11-12 minute pace. Serena Wilcox hiked with me for a couple miles on the long climb back up to Margaritaville. One of the farms we passed by had a water tank set out for the horses and we both dunked ourselves head first up to the shoulders. It was so hot at this point we really didn’t mind the extra horse slobber.

By 60 miles, I was stopping to walk on even some of the easy flat and downhill sections. At Margaritaville at mile 62 I took some time out to sit, rest, and figure out what I could manage to eat to get some calories in. Pretzels seemed to be the only food that I could get down so I grabbed as many as I could carry and headed out to shuffle my way down the hill back to Camp 10 Bear. Unfortunately Margaritaville was the last aid station that stocked pretzels. Other than a handful that a very nice lady from another runner’s crew gave me at Westwinds, I didn’t find another pretzel until the finish.

By the time I made it to Camp 10 Bear at mile 70, I was completely wrecked. But I was happy to meet my pacer, Charlie Cowan. I let Charlie and my mom know that I was pretty much out of the race. I was still on target for a 20-21 hour finish but at this point any time or place goals were thrown out and my only focus was to get to the finish without injury. I took some time to sit and pull myself together at Camp 10 Bear and managed to get most of a cliff bar down before heading back out with Charlie.

Earlier in the week I had posted a pacer request with the VT100 just as a last minute after thought. I didn’t think I’d have any trouble running solo and rarely need any real encouragement from a pacer. But I thought it might be nice to have some company on the run and meet someone new. After mile 70, I would have been glad to have any pacer with me but Charlie turned out to be the best stroke of luck I’d had all day. I couldn’t have found a more perfect match to help me through the last 30 miles. Charlie seemed to know exactly when to push and when to back off the pace to keep me moving steadily. He’d move ahead and spot the hills to plan out where we’d transition from hiking to jogging and back again. And he was always quick with helpful reminders and suggestions along the way. I managed to keep my head clear and stayed focused on taking care of myself the entire time but Charlie’s comments, suggestions, and encouragement along the way were always helpful and reassuring. And aside from the pacing help, Charlie was just really good company. He’s currently training for his first 100 miler at Leadville. And while he isn’t a very experienced ultra runner, he has a very impressive background in Ironman triathlons (sorry, I can’t recall exact finish stats but they were pretty good). So we had a lot to talk about along the way.

The first two stops at Seabrook (mile 74) and Westwinds (mile 77) went fairly well. I almost thought I might still have a chance to pull through and come back to manage a decent finish time. I also caught up with Andy Henshaw at each of these stops. He was just leaving the stations as I was coming in. When I asked how he was doing at Seabrook, he just half grunted, “suffering” as he drooled part of his last mouthful of ramen and headed off up the road. I felt a little better about my condition since I wasn’t the only one from our starting pack to have a rough time. After Westwinds, Andy must have been able to pull through with a strong finish since he made it in under 20 hours dropping me behind by about 2 hours.

Unfortunately I wouldn’t have any final recovery in this race. The next leg to Cow Shed at mile 83 took a long time and there was only one unmanned water stop at mile 80. They just had clear water jugs sitting out on a table which were pretty hot by the time we got there. I managed to get some warm water down in the last couple miles to Cow Shed but by the time I got to the aid station, I was hot, dizzy, and feeling pretty queasy. I asked for pretzels or saltines but they didn’t have any so I sat down with a cup of ice water to try to settle my stomach and cool off. I managed to get one cup of ice water down and drank some chicken broth and thought I might be ready to go. But as soon as I stood up, I got really dizzy, managed to get 50 feet across the road and started throwing up. Charlie came to the rescue and got an ice pack on my neck, packed up his hat with ice and strapped it to my head, and got another two handfuls of ice and held them in my armpits to get me cooled off. After a few minutes I was feeling a bit better and decided we needed to get moving before I got too cold. Since I was out of luck on pretzels or saltines, we searched the aid table for any suitable bland source of calories. All we could come up with was 2 slices of plain wonder bread sprinkled with some salt. So I headed back out to try to make it to Bill’s at mile 88 with a pack of ice on my head and a fistful of bread.

The wonder bread tasted like glue with bug spray but it seemed to go down OK and helped to settle my stomach. Charlie talked me into getting a Cliff shot blok down by just keeping one in my cheek and sipping water to try to get a tiny trickle of sugar and calories down. That worked out pretty well for a while but with a little over a mile left to get to Bill’s, my ice pack had melted and the last few sips of my water was really warm. I started heating up again and was getting queasy but we made it into the station carefully walking and jogging the last mile.

I weighed in at Bill’s and was only down a couple of pounds so that was a good sign that I wasn’t too dehydrated. I checked the table for anything I could manage to eat and again I was out of luck on pretzels or saltines. The aid station was in a big barn and it was getting pretty crowded which was making me queasy so I grabbed some ice water and went outside, stole a volunteer’s chair, and sat down to try to recuperate. Charlie kept making trips back and forth to the aid table to find something I could eat. Eventually we figured out that oranges worked so I ate about a dozen wedges. My mom managed to get me to drink a few sips of ginger ale after standing bay fairly persistently. One of the medical staff came out and checked on me and noted that I wasn’t sweating and was really hot. While that sounded pretty bad, it made sense and gave me a clear problem to work through to get myself to the finish. As long as I was careful not to over exert myself and was able to carry enough ice and ice water, I should be able to make it to the finish line.

From Bill’s, Charlie and I just kept working our way to each aid station to get to the finish. We kept the next aid stops to a bare minimum to just restock ice and ice water. I managed to get down a couple more slices of wonder bread along the way. The last station at Polly’s had some Ritz crackers but they were too buttery so I only got a couple down before they started making me queasy.

The finish was pretty uneventful. I didn’t have any kick left in me other than to jog the entire last half mile. I had no intention of racing anyone and fortunately I was on my own through the last couple of miles. Charlie and I just kept chugging along walking and jogging steadily. After I crossed the finish line, I managed to stay on my feet to walk a little further to the aid tent, got some more ice and ice water and cooled down gradually before sitting down. I had to lie down on a cot in the medical tent for a little while to rest my legs before I could move again but I was happy that I managed to recover on my own without an IV this time.

My final finish time really wasn’t that bad at 21:48 – almost an hour faster than my first VT100 in 2008. But I can honestly say that this was the toughest race I’ve ever done. This is the closest I’ve come to a DNF and without Charlie’s help out there, I may not have made it. I doubt I would have quit on my own but I probably would have struggled to make the 30 hour cut off or had the medical staff eventually pull me.

Looking back, this was a pretty good learning experience. I can’t say that I’d do anything differently in regards to pacing, hydration, or fueling (other than to stock pretzels and saltines in my own drop bags). My pacing plan didn’t work out well this time but I still think that on a good day I could finish this course in 17-18 hours. My legs just weren’t 100% recovered from Western States and it turned out that it just wasn’t my day. This did give me a pretty good idea of just how bad things can get. I may not be able to run like I did at Western States at every race and I expect that I’ll have a lot more bad days than good days coming up. But next time I will be more mentally prepared and will have the confidence knowing that I can make it to the finish even on my worst day.

And on a final positive note, since I wasn’t able to push very hard, my legs are in really good shape. The tendons in my right foot that were bothering me after Western States are perfectly fine now. I have some sore quads and calves but I don’t have any real damage to recover from. So this may have been a blessing in disguise to set myself up for a good 5 week break to prepare for Leadville and Wasatch.

Here’s the full map of the course:

And finally, here are some photos from the weekend:

Vermont 100, 2010

Vermont 100 Start Vermont 100 Start	Chip ready to take a million photos. Chip ready to take a million photos.
My crew. Mom, Mikhaela, and Harrison. My crew. Mom, Mikhaela, and Harrison.	Ready to run at 3:45am Ready to run at 3:45am
Nice sunrise view through the trees. Nice sunrise view through the trees.	The climb up the road to the Pretty House aid station at mile 21. Still moving along at a great pace on target for 17 hours. The climb up the road to the Pretty House aid station at mile 21. Still moving along at a great pace on target for 17 hours.
On the way to Stage Road (mile 30). On the way to Stage Road (mile 30).
	Stage Rd aid station. Still feeling pretty good and moving along at a good pace. Stage Rd aid station. Still feeling pretty good and moving along at a good pace.
Another nice climb with an open view after Stage Road. Another nice climb with an open view after Stage Road.
	We had a 1 hour head start on the horses. The first rider passed me at 36 miles. We had a 1 hour head start on the horses. The first rider passed me at 36 miles.
Birmingham’s Aid Station at mile 54. Birmingham’s Aid Station at mile 54.
	View of Mt Ascutney on the road to Margaritaville (mile 62). Unfortunately they don’t serve Margarita’s any more …something about needing a liquor license for the event. View of Mt Ascutney on the road to Margaritaville (mile 62). Unfortunately they don’t serve Margarita’s any more …something about needing a liquor license for the event.
My pacer Charlie Cowan leading the way to Seabrook (mile 75). My pacer Charlie Cowan leading the way to Seabrook (mile 75).
One last hilltop view for the day. Somewhere on the way to Westwinds (mile 77) One last hilltop view for the day. Somewhere on the way to Westwinds (mile 77)
Horses at one of their water stops. I did stop earlier to dunk my head into one of those. It was so hot, I didn’t mind the horse slobber. Horses at one of their water stops. I did stop earlier to dunk my head into one of those. It was so hot, I didn’t mind the horse slobber.	Finally at the finish. Still icing from overheating but I made it without injury and managed to stay on my feet and recover without an IV this time. Finally at the finish. Still icing from overheating but I made it without injury and managed to stay on my feet and recover without an IV this time.
One more buckle for the collection. One more buckle for the collection.	The pre and post-race food was fantastic. The pre and post-race food was fantastic.
Course hill profile …a lot of hills. Course hill profile …a lot of hills.

I showed up at the start at Squaw Valley feeling better than ever. I was fully rested and all the nagging aches and pains from months of hard training were gone. It was hard not to get too caught up in the excitement at the start of the race. Everyone was amped up and ready to go and the energy in the crowd was pretty intense.

Once the starting crowd thinned out a bit, I managed to settle into a comfortable climbing pace on the service road going up the ski hill. I made it to the top in good time to see the a spectacular view of the sunrise over lake Tahoe with Chris Thornley enthusiasticly banging away on a huge gong.

From the top of the first climb we had a few miles of rolling hills through thick hard packed snow. Most of it was firm enough to easily run across. We hit a few spots that were melted off into thick, soupy mud and had a couple sections where the trail had turned into an ankle deep stream. Overall, it wasn’t too bad and I actually had fun running through this section. It would have been nice to continue with 10 more miles of snow on the original route since it was obvious that several runners weren’t quite as comfortable running through the snow.

Here’s a clip of Eric Lee demonstrating his snow running skills:

After this short romp through the snow and mud we turned onto the new snow route dropping down a nice dirt road with a long stretch of easy flat dirt road and some really beautiful single track winding along next to the French Meadows reservoir. Several faster runners passed me on this stretch but I just let them go and settled into a comfortable pace and tried to relax and enjoy the scenery. After the reservoir we had a short climb to Duncan Canyon aid station up through an open burn area on a fairly rough trail that looked like it has been cut just the other day. I had originally planned out my estimated pacing splits for my sub-20 hour goal, a safe sub-24 hour goal, and an 18:30 pace. The 18:30 split was really only intended as a reference point to watch to make sure that I wasn’t running too fast early in the race. I checked my watch at Duncan and was suprised to see that I had beat my 18:30 split by a full half hour. I felt pretty good and was running at a relaxed pace at this point so this gave me a good boost of confidence heading out to Robinson Flat.

From there, I kept chugging along running from aid station to aid station without thinking too much about the finish. The extremely long downhill section from Robinson to the base of Devil’s Thumb was much harder than I had expected. I ran some of the steep drops pretty well but was a bit slower than I would have liked on the gentler easy stretches where I knew the faster runners would have flown through. I hit my first low point of the day between Dustys Corner and Last Chance. As low points go, it really wasn’t that bad. I just wasn’t able to run as fast as I really wanted to here.

The heat was starting to build up and I hadn’t fully taken advantage of the ice and water buckets at the last aid station. Up to this point, I had been conservatively rinsing my hat and packing a small handful of ice in my bandanna. At the Last Chance aid station, the volunteer asked if I wanted to make a stop at the “car wash”. I finally got the right idea and grabbed the sponges and fully soaked myself head to toe. From that point on, I didn’t pass up a single water bucket at the aid stations, made sure my second water bottle was always full to dump on myself if I didn’t need to drink it all on the shorter sections. And I stopped to wallow around like a pig in every stream crossing and puddle with more than an inch of water on the trail.

By the time I started up the climb to Devil’s Thumb I was feeling a bit better. We hadn’t had a decent uphill section since the first climb out of Squaw so this actually felt good. I made it to the top in good time and wondered why everyone made such a fuss about that hill. That short break to stretch the legs out in a nice power hike was downright delightfull.

The next climb up to Michigan Bluff wasn’t quite as nice. El Dorado Creek at the base of this climb was a big milestone at mile 52.9. I checked my split times again and was just 5 minutes over my 18:30 pace at about 9 hours. While I was really happy to still be on track for an 18:xx finish at this point in the race, this is where my pacing goals started to backfire on me. My brain started to remind me that I had originally thought sub-20 would be a fantastic run and that sub-24 would be a respectable finish. I was well ahead of these goals now and could slow down and relax. There was no need to keep pushing. I could stop running and walk for a while. I could even stop and take a break if I wanted to. Eventually my brain and I settled on a compromise and I continued up the hill to Michigan at a slow grind.

Before I knew it, I had made it to Foresthill and met my pacer, Mike Poland. It was a huge relief to finally meet Mike and have some company on the trail. And running through the cheering crowds at Foresthill gave me a huge adrenaline boost. Mile 62 was also a big milestone in the race. Up until then I had only run a marathon, a 50k, a 50 miler, and a 100k. These were distances that I’d done before – nothing more than training runs or ultra races that can be finished in a reasonable time within one day. Stepping out of the Foresthill aid station, I crossed over into the 100 mile race. My quads hurt and I was tired but this is what I was here for.

Foresthill to the river was a pretty tough grind. My energy level and pace was up and down. I’d run some decent stretches and then would slow down and just kept grinding away. A few runners passed me here but I just let them go – it was still too early in the day to race anyone. But overall I was still doing pretty well. My quads were burning but I’ve been in worse pain before. We made it to the river crossing a little bit behind my 18:30 goal but still well ahead of my sub-20 target. Victor Ballesteros, Phil Kochik, and I all crossed the river in the same boat. I knew both of these guys were fast and Victor had closed in on Andy Jones-Wilkins last year to chase him onto the track and was only seconds away from stealing the M10 finish from Andy. So after a short dip in the river to cool off my legs, Mike and I grabbed a quick water refill and charged up the hill to Green Gate. Since I’m not as stong on the flats and downhills as most other runners, my plan was to pull ahead on the uphill and hopefully fool anyone behind me into thinking I was too strong to chase down. Victor made it out of the aid station ahead of me but I managed to leave Phil behind on the climb to Green Gate.

Mike and I kept rolling along at a pretty steady pace on the leg to Auburn Lake Trails. It was starting to get dark here but the footing was decent so we kept the lights off as long as we could. We could see another runner’s light up ahead and I really didn’t want anyone behind me to get the idea that they could possibly chase me down here.

Brown’s Bar aid station was pretty wild. The place was lit up like a christmas tree and we could hear music blasting from a mile away. A huge guy in drag met me at the aid station to help me through as the volunteers filled bottles. If anyone wants to volunteer at the race, this would be the aid station to work at. This crew was ready for a wild all-night party.

At the Highway 49 aid station, I hit my last low point of the race. Up until this point, I had no idea what position I was in. There could have been 10 or 30 runners ahead of me and that “what if” thought at the back of my mind had kept me going in the chase. But as I enterred the station a volunteer announced that I was currently in 21st place. I looked at my watch and it seemed highly unlikely that I’d be able to break 19 hours. I could just keep chugging away steadily to get to the finish with a respectable sub-20 time finishing somewhere in 20-something place. It wouldn’t make much difference if I passed someone or if someone else passed me here. So I set out moving pretty slowly thinking I’d just keep moving and I’d get to the finish when I got there. I had no intention of racing anymore. I didn’t want anyone to catch me and didn’t want to chase anyone. I just wanted to finish at my own pace. My legs were hurting pretty bad here and I just kept focusing on breathing and picking one foot up after another to keep moving forward.

As I closed in on No Hands Bridge at the base of the final climb, I passed another runner on the final switchback into the aid station. And when I arrived at the aid station, I saw Victor standing there and he wasn’t moving very quickly to leave. I could make it into the top 20! I was back in the race! Mike was trying to get his water bottle refilled and was attempting to drink one of his red bulls and I yelled at him drop everything and go.

So we took off across the bridge to tackle the last climb to Robie Point. The first section started up a smooth dirt road gradually climbing up with an occassional roller. I managed to keep up a running cadence to push through this section. The last stretch turned onto a pretty steep single track trail and I alternated between a grinding jog and power hiking to keep pushing up as hard as I could go. I thought the last aid station was at the end of the climb but we still had about a quarter mile to go up on a steep paved road before we hit the easy home stretch through the neighborhood to the finish. I settled into a power walk up this last incline and passed the first woman, Tracy Garneau. Just as I cleared the crest of the hill at the 1 mile to go sign, I looked back and saw another set of lights right behind me. I heard the pacer telling his runner to get ready to kick out the last mile hard. Oh crap! I took off as hard as I could make my legs go. When I hit the track, I glanced behind me and saw a runner (and later realized it was just Mike who had dropped behind me) and then looked at my watch and saw 18:59. There was still a chance to break 19 hours! When I rounded the corner to see the finish clock, I could see the seconds ticking away and crossed the finish with 18 seconds to spare. After a second look, I realized I had read my watch wrong and I actually finished in 58:42, not 59:42. According to my GPS, I ran the last mile in 7:30 and ran the loop around the track in 5:00 to 5:30 pace. I put absolutely everything I had into this race and while I might nitpick about specific points throughout the race where I could have done better, I have no doubt that this finish was the absolute best I could achieve.

For a few minutes after finishing, I felt suprisingly good. Unfortunately that would change quickly. I had originally volunteered for the research program and headed over to give my blood sample. They said my sodium levels were a bit low and I would be a good candidate for their hyponatremia study. They planned to give me a high sodium solution IV and then retest a blood sample after an hour to see the results. To get started, all I needed to do was stand up so they could take my blood pressure. I couldn’t get up. I could barely get one foot underneath me, let alone exert any effort to push myself up off the ground. So a couple people grabbed me by the arms to pull me up. I still couldn’t get my feet under me and as soon as they pulled me up to a vertical position, I passed out. After one or two more attempts at this, one of the lead medical staff came over and told the research group that they couldn’t have me for their trial and several people picked me up and carried me horizontally over to the medical tent. My legs started cramping and spasming for a while but after 2 IV’s, a couple S-caps, and a few cups of broth, I started feeling better. Within a few hours I was back to feeling normal – just plain tired and hurting. Eventually I managed to get up and move out of the medical tent and found a nice open space on the grass to sleep for a few more hours.

I spent Sunday morning shuffling around the finish area. My legs were in pretty decent shape and nothing was seriously hurt. I had a sore spot on the top of my right foot and my right big toenail looked like it would probably come off. I watched my friends Paul Grimm and Eric Lee finish early Sunday morning and we all enjoyed relaxing at the finish for the rest of the afternoon until the awards ceremony.

This race really lived up to it’s reputation. The competitive field was incredible, aid station volunteers were outstanding, and I’ve never run an ultra trail race with so many spectators. The runners, volunteers, and crews out there really helped to keep the energy level and excitement going all day long. Even the live webcast system helped. I had no idea who might be checking but the thought of friends and family refreshing their browsers to check in on me made me think, gee I should get moving and knock out a decent split on this next section to give them something to watch. Hearing the announcer at the track say, “here comes our second runner in the top 20 from Fort Collins” was awesome. I had no idea what happened up at the front of the pack so it was great to hear that Nick made it in. I knew he’d run well but am still amazed at just how well he did coming in 4th place and very close to overtaking Killian for 3rd. Overall, it was an incredible weekend. Even though I didn’t run with them during the day, it was great to be out there with my good friends Nick, Paul, and Eric on the course. I will definitely consider running this one again. Maybe not next year …there are so many other events that I’d still like to run. Right now it’s time to get ready for Vermont. In less than three weeks I get to do this all over again.

Here are some great photos from Michael Cook. Most are from the first 30 miles with a few from Foresthill and the finish:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mncook/sets/72157624241587299/show/

Glenn Tachiyama has been gradually adding some really amazing photos to his Facebook album this week:
http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?pid=31140414&id=1086004380

And some more photos from Luis Escobar:
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=6376727&id=340040187316#!/album.php?aid=235533&id=340040187316&page=2

And finally, here are my own photos from the weekend:

Western States 2010

Friday check in at Squaw Valley. The starting clock counting down. Friday check in at Squaw Valley. The starting clock counting down.	We’ll start up this hill at 5am Saturday morning. We’ll start up this hill at 5am Saturday morning.
	Eric, Paul, Mike, and I after lunch at Lake Tahoe. Eric, Paul, Mike, and I after lunch at Lake Tahoe.
Best race schwag ever. The Montrail packs are pretty sweet. Best race schwag ever. The Montrail packs are pretty sweet.	Gathering at the start. Gathering at the start.
Ready to go. Ready to go.
The first climb at daybreak. The first climb at daybreak.
Incredible sunrise over Tahoe. Incredible sunrise over Tahoe.
French Meadows reservoir on the snow route. French Meadows reservoir on the snow route.	On the way to Duncan Canyon. On the way to Duncan Canyon.
Arriving at Duncan Canyon mile 23.8. Photo by Glenn Tachiyama Arriving at Duncan Canyon mile 23.8. Photo by Glenn Tachiyama
I met David Larsen on the way to Robinson Flat. He’s also running the Grand Slam this summer. I met David Larsen on the way to Robinson Flat. He’s also running the Grand Slam this summer.
Still feeling pretty good halfway to Robinson. Still feeling pretty good halfway to Robinson.	Cresting the hill after leaving Robinson Flat before the long, long, long descent to the base of Devil’s Thumb. Cresting the hill after leaving Robinson Flat before the long, long, long descent to the base of Devil’s Thumb.
	The trail up Devil’s Thumb. It doesn’t look very steep in this picture. The trail up Devil’s Thumb. It doesn’t look very steep in this picture.
A look back into the first canyon. A look back into the first canyon.	Mike took a few pictures on the way to the river crossing from Foresthill. Mike took a few pictures on the way to the river crossing from Foresthill.
	63 miles in and still feeling pretty good. Damn it’s hot. 63 miles in and still feeling pretty good. Damn it’s hot.
	The river. Finally! The river. Finally!
Sunset on the way to Auburn Lake trails. Sunset on the way to Auburn Lake trails.	Mike pulling the pace in the lead. Mike pulling the pace in the lead.
	Fnished! Fnished!
I crashed pretty hard shortly after finishing and couldn’t get up without passing out. So I spent some time in medical. I crashed pretty hard shortly after finishing and couldn’t get up without passing out. So I spent some time in medical.	Not too bad. The right big toenail is probably going to fall off soon. Not too bad. The right big toenail is probably going to fall off soon.
Paul Grimm finishing strong and enjoying a Krispy Kreme donut from the last aid station. Paul Grimm finishing strong and enjoying a Krispy Kreme donut from the last aid station.	Eric finished in good spirits and all in one piece. Eric finished in good spirits and all in one piece.
Amy Palmiero-Winters finishing strong. One of the most incredible performances of the day. Amy Palmiero-Winters finishing strong. One of the most incredible performances of the day.	Nick at the awards ceremony. Nick at the awards ceremony.
Gordy accepting his award for being the last unofficial finisher. He made it out of the last checkpoint on time but finished after the cut off. Gordy accepting his award for being the last unofficial finisher. He made it out of the last checkpoint on time but finished after the cut off.	The top finishers. The top finishers.
Nick accepting his award. Nick accepting his award.	Silver buckle. Silver buckle.
	Paul getting his buckle. He finished 2 hours faster than his time last year. Paul getting his buckle. He finished 2 hours faster than his time last year.
Eric getting his buckle. Eric getting his buckle.