A trail runner's thoughts on the Boston Marathon bombings

4:09

12 seconds that will now be forever etched into the memory of runners everywhere.  Confusion.  Panic.  Sadness.  Bewilderment.  These are a few things that many have felt to one degree or another, whether there was a training partner or family member running, or just because you feel the camaraderie from being a "runner" and imagining what it must have been like to be there.  But most of us who weren't there can't really know...only imagine.

What happened on April 15 will likely change our sport forever.  I imagine there will be some surface level changes, like more security at large races, but the lasting changes will be in the minds and hearts of we who run.  No runner alive today will likely complete another marathon without recalling, at least momentarily, the horror of that day at Boston.  As 4:09 ticks past on the finish line clock, there will be some who pause for a moment at the memory of the explosions, the screams, the confusion, the blood, the tears.  And that's as it should be.  We would do well to remember that there are those in this world who believe that violence is the way to get attention, or that it is the way to solve problems.  We should recognize that it is the same evil that motivated this attack which motivated the British Crown to oppress and kill its own citizens in the Revolutionary period, including the first Boston Massacre.  It is the same evil that was behind Hitler, Stalin, Mao Zedong, and more recently the terror attacks of September 11, 2001 and the host of other injustices and horrific tragedies which have taken place throughout the history of this planet.  We would do well to hope to eradicate this evil, and to hope that justice can be served upon the heads of those responsible where it is possible through the judicious application of just and fair laws.

We should also remember the consequences of the actions that we take in searching out justice.  Before we hasten to exact vengeance, we should perhaps pause to ponder on what it is we are really looking for.  Perhaps runners, more than most who have not experienced a tragic loss of this nature, understand the value of blood and tears.  In our never ending quest to reach deeper within ourselves through running, each of us has shed a few drops of both.  We know the worth of freedom, as each of us has experienced this in a way that many do not.  We know at least one kind of happiness.  With this in mind, let us remember the value of life, of liberty, of happiness, and not let the thirst for vengeance overcome our sense of humanity.  In our search to make sense of these events, lets remember that the best tribute to those who lost their lives, or part of their freedom, or who are sorrowing because of the evil acts of a few, is to reach out to one another.  To counter Evil with Good.  To be a little bit better person.  To sacrifice something for someone else.  To offer assistance to someone in need.  To say a kind word as you pass a stranger on the trail. These are the things that will win out in the end.  No amount of armed force, fear, or hatred can change history, but love and service can change the future.  Love in the face of death, pain, and terror is the deepest kind of courage, and I believe it is the ultimate source of power in this existence.  It's not unlike the will to keep running through pain to the top of the next ridge, knowing that there are still many more mountains to climb, but that each successive summit will bring more breathtaking vistas than the last.

My Mormon faith leads me to believe honestly that God can make good out of anything--even something as tragic as the events in Boston.  But in order for this to happen, and in order for us to be more like Him, we each need to learn to do this individually.  So don't let fear, anger, and hate take over.  It only leads to more suffering.  Become someone better, something more.  We know how to do this, but we also know it takes a little work.  So lace up, and RUN!

Race Report: El Vaquero Loco 50k 2012

Distance:  31 miles
Time/Place:  DNF

Well, this is going to be a first as far as race reports go.  My first writeup of a race I did not finish, that is.  More on that later, but for now I'll just say "goodbye, cruel world!"  Just kidding.  Don't call the suicide hotline.  I'll be ok.

Cody and I ditched out of work early on Friday afternoon, and after grabbing some Jimmy John's we left Logan for the wilds of western Wyoming to make our rendezvous with the unruly, unparalleled, and sadly under-publicized El Vaquero Loco 50k. 

After running it last year, this race quickly became one of my favorite trail races.  The scenery has only occasionally been matched by anything I have seen, especially in a race.  The course is very tough, but is well worth the effort.  Being tucked away in Star Valley, WY, it doesn't get a whole lot of publicity, but it is definitely one of the best 50k races out there.  It amazes me that more people haven't discovered this gem of a run.  Ty Draney, the original Vaquero Loco (complete with flip flops and a cowboy hat on race day), is the race director, and he does a wonderful job of putting together a great race, from the aid station volunteers and Search and Rescue members who pack into some very rugged country on horses and motorcycles, to the scrumptious post-race hamburgers and huckleberry soda.

After attending the short pre-race meeting at the park in Afton and picking up our race packets, Cody and I hung around shooting the breeze with Ty, Luke Nelson (then 4-time winner of EVL), "Fast Evan" Honeyfield, and helping get the packets out to the stragglers.  It was an enjoyable evening, and we even had a little rain to clear out the smoke from the bajillions of forest fires that are currently burning up the West. 

After that we made our way to Cottonwood Lake to see if we could mooch half a campsite from someone, in which we were successful, and set up our tent.  It was a good thing Cody brought a tent, because shortly after hitting the hay we were treated to a series of nice rain squalls.  This was good though, because it cleared the air and made for perfect trails the next morning.

Race morning "dawned" clear, cool, and moist, with the promise of a beautiful day ahead.  I was hoping for some fog after seeing photos from Balls two years ago, but no such luck.  I ate a couple of granola bars for breakfast and filled my two bottles.  I had been debating on whether to go with one and save weight, or two and be guaranteed to have enough water.  I decided to split the difference and go with two but only fill them halfway.  I go to college.

After a brief wait, we got started just as the ground became visible without the use of a headlight.  My goal today was to go out with Luke, see what I felt like, hang on for dear life, and see how fast I could go pushing hard.  Luke and I took off at a brisk pace, and I immediately knew this was going to be a hard effort.  I was breathing pretty hard at first, but soon my body got used to it and settled down.  The climb up Balls was super tough.  I had not experienced this section of the course last year, due to the shortened snow course, and more is the pity because this is hands down the best part of the race.  We kept things light, chatting a bit, but still we were pushing pretty hard.  Cody hung around behind us all the way up the climb, but as soon as we reached the top he dropped off the back for good.  After such a steep, technical climb it was fun to run at a suicide pace down the steep and rocky singletrack on the other side into a beautiful valley.  The scenery was absolutely stunning, especially as the sun was just breaking the tops of the surrounding mountains.  I was in awe.  We blew through the first aid station at the bottom of the valley.  Luke seemed to be enjoying the company (he's usually alone by this point), and we talked and swapped a few stories and whatnot.  He is a great guy to run with whether you're just out for a training run or in a race.  Probably one of the most positive individuals I've met.  We continued at a breakneck pace up into the lakes portion of the course and waved hi to the aid station crew as we sped past.  Can't say enough about these people who hiked in the night before, braving rain and cold to set up a remote aid station for us.  We slowed down a bit for the climb out of the lakes, but then picked up the pace again as we began the long downhill run into the turnaround.  I had been eating well (one of my goals for this race:  proper fueling), and I felt very good and had plenty of energy at this point.  Luke seemed to feel the same, and broke his radio silence about wanting to break 5 hours, a crazy goal for this course, but if anyone could do it, he could, and we were on a great pace to do so.  I was feeling good so I told him I'd go with him as long as I was capable.  We were flying at this point, and I was having more fun than I've had in a race in a long time.

We blasted into the turnaround in just over 2:21, whooping and hollering at the 25kers and we got some good cheering in return.  I grabbed some S-caps and filled my bottle.  Luke was a little quicker than I out of the aid, but he kindly stopped to water the flowers and let me catch up.  We were both enjoying having someone to talk to and pulling each other along.  We passed Cody just after getting back onto the singletrack, and wished him luck.  He looked to be doing really well and on track to set a PR.  Shortly after this, my stomach suddenly began to feel queasy.  Luke encouraged me and I stuck through it initially, chalking it up to a sudden effort up the steep climb on the first part of the singletrack.  But, unfortunately, that was not to be the end of it.  After a couple of more miles, my stomach became even more upset, and no matter what I did I could not get it to go away.  Things went downhill so fast my head was spinning.  After less than a quarter mile I could barely hang on to Luke's pace and began to lag a little.  Luke continued to try and bring me back, but no amount of mental effort seemed to help.  Suddenly I stopped, doubled over, and vomited into the weeds.  I knew I was in trouble.  I could barely even stand.  After puking, I felt a lot better and took off running again, but I only got about 10 steps before retching into the bushes again.  I decided to try and walk it off to see if I could get something going again later.  I knew that Luke was probably long gone, but I could still finish with a spectacular PR if I could get past this quickly.  But, as time went on, it became apparent that I was only getting worse, not better.  I passed Evan taking pictures (he was photoshooting the race) and he tried to encourage me, but by then I could barely hike without dry heaving.  I reached the aid station and asked the volunteers if I could sit down for a spell.  They were very helpful and got me some water and Coke and a jacket because I was shivering.  I wanted to get past this so I could keep going, but my stomach refused to cooperate.  After 45 minutes I was still in no condition to tackle the remaining 11 miles or so, and I knew the game was probably up.  I told the aid station volunteers that I would be dropping but that I could hike back to the turnaround under my own power.  Better that than have to be packed out of the lakes on horseback if I got worse.

The hike out was long, hot, and a little humiliating.  You could tell the runners who had experienced similar setbacks in the past by the look on their faces and their kind gestures of offering food, s-caps, etc (none of which I felt like), but others were oblivious and I felt obligated to explain why I was going the wrong way.  After a long time, I made it back to the turnaround.  The aid station had long since been packed up, but an S&R guy was there with his radio and called in a ride for me. Eventually Cody showed up to pack me and another woman out and back to the start.  He didn't even make too much fun of me.  I went back to the start and had a huckleberry soda.  Ty and Luke and the others were all very gracious.  One of the things I love about trail running is that most people have been through everything you have, so they are always very understanding when you have a bad day.  

After thinking a lot about this race, I have decided to take it as a learning experience.  It was bound to happen sometime, and I will take what I can from it and move on.  It's not always about winning every race, but about getting up each time you take a fall.  Sure, I'm a little bummed about the outcome, but it gives me all the more motivation to come back and do better the next time.  Much like life, trail running is about the journey, and failure is an essential part of that journey.

Pacing Hardrock

Tim and I ascending the first ridge out of Maggie Gulch

  Last weekend I had the lucky opportunity to pace at the Hardrock 100.  My former running buddy, Jon, who has since moved to South Carolina, got himself on the "am willing to pace" list for the race, and got in contact with Tim Adams, of London, England, who was looking for a pacer or two.  Jon graciously extended the invitation to help with pacing duties to Cody and I and we both jumped at the chance.  Cody had to do some logistical gymnastics to get out of a scout camp early, but sacrifices must be made, right?  After all, it is Hardrock--the grand-daddy of all 100 milers.

The view from Maggie Gulch Aid

 I was a little nervous about my pacing duties, since the course is notorious for being not well marked, mostly because of the course conditions rather than a lack of effort by the race staff, and the fact that I'd be responsible for navigation in very unfamiliar and unforgiving territory.  But luckily I learned that Tim had marked the section I would be pacing a few days earlier so between us we probably wouldn't get too lost.  My section was Maggie Gulch Aid to the finish in Silverton, CO, which included three ascents to 13,000 feet.

Tim Adams:  Kickin' butt and takin' names

 When I picked up Tim at Maggie's, it was beginning to storm just a bit.  I was really glad that I packed all the extra weight of my bad-weather gear, because the weather went from rainy and windy one minute, to sunny the next, and we would endure several wet, cold, and windy storms before the finish.  Tim was pretty tired to start, so we slowly climbed to the top of the ridge above Maggie Gulch overlooking the Buffalo Boy mine.  Here, Tim pointed out the route we would be taking.  He pointed at ridge after ridge of high, steep mountains that we would be climbing, and I began to get a sense of just how difficult the course is.  The views, however, were breathtaking.  We do not have mountains like this in Utah.  Many of the ranges looked like something a child might draw, with jagged, otherworldly shapes jutting up against the sky.

Looking over the rest of the course from the ridge above Buffalo Boy Mine, with the Grenadier Range in the distance

 After a brief respite of relatively level trail along the top of the ridge, we steeply descended into the next valley.  We could see a herd of sheep grazing to our left, and a deserted jeep road that we would cross before we continued to the aptly named Stony Pass.  Tim was feeling more fatigued as we crossed the valley and began the short climb up the pass, and I encouraged him to keep eating so that he could keep his strength up, as we still had over 10 miles to go.  Near the top of the pass, it began storming again, and we were nearly blown off the mountain a time or two by strong winds.  As we descended into the beautiful valley on the other side, the winds lessened and we began to warm back up.  Tim began moving quite a bit better and we made good time through this section.  This was perhaps my favorite part of the course.  It reminded me of the country of Rohan from the Lord of the Rings movies.  Soon, we reached the mouth of the valley and were able to look down into Cunningham Aid.  When Tim had pointed this section out from a distance, I couldn't see just how deep this canyon was.  Glacial action and subsequent river erosion had carved out a very steep canyon, with several hanging valleys carved by other glaciers intersecting it.  We would descend into the bottom to the aid, and then climb up the sheer wall on the other side to one of these hanging valleys and then over the final ridge.

Dropping into Cunningham Aid

 When we got to the aid station, I ran ahead to get things ready for Tim.  It was raining hard at this point, and we were soaked and a little chilly, so we both took the opportunity to throw on some drier clothes and drink some hot chocolate and broth.  Soon, we were back out on the trail and climbing up what amounted to little less than a cliff face on the other side of the valley.  The climb seemed like it lasted forever.  The switchbacks were innumerable, and by the time we got to the mouth of the hanging valley we were both pretty much worn out.  We would have to stop every 100 yards or so just to catch our breath and let our heart rates slow down to manageable levels before continuing on.  But, finally, as the sun set across the distant peaks, we reached the top of the ridge, skirted the top of a line of frowning cliffs, and began the steep and treacherous descent down the other side.
By the time we reached the jeep road that would take us most of the way home, it was pretty dark, so we put on our lights.  We were able to get a better pace going here, even though it was still mostly hiking.  It was nice to go downhill again.  We were both ready to be done with the race, although I hadn't run 95 miles at this point.  But, we still had a few challenges ahead.  After two or three miles of rough jeep road, it began to rain very hard.  The temperatures had dropped to near freezing, and I was somewhat surprised that it wasn't snowing.  We were both glad that we had each brought a cheap emergency poncho, as they kept us very dry.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we reached the final section of singletrack.  This section also seemed to go on forever, but we started moving faster anyway.  I think that Tim was "smelling the barn" so to speak, and so he let me go ahead and set the pace at a fast jog-hike.  After many stream crossings and getting our feet thoroughly soaked, we reached Silverton.  The town was deserted, but we were just happy to finally be so close to finishing.  We reached the last few hundred yards and I coaxed Tim into a run into the finish.  He completed the race just shy of midnight, in 41 hours, 53 minutes, good enough for 64th place.  But, I'd say anyone that finishes this race is pretty hardcore.

The Finish!  After breakfast, of course!

 Pacing any 100 miler, but especially Hardrock, is a unique and incredible experience.  Watching firsthand the human struggle against one's own physical limits is an inspiring and motivating thing to observe.  It was a pleasure to spend nearly 8.5 hours over 15 miles in Tim's company, rain or shine (lots of both).  It was also fun to watch the race unfold and be on the same course as Hal Koerner and Darcy Africa (M and F winners, respectively) along with other heavy hitters like Dakota Jones, Krissy Moehl, Karl Meltzer, Nick Pedatella, Diana Finkel, etc.  I hope to get the chance to do this again, and maybe someday even run the race myself.  Congratulations to Tim, and all the other runners that completed or participated in this race.  It was a truly memorable experience.

Race Report: Logan Peak Trail Run 2012

Distance:  28 miles
Time:  4:09:53
Place:  2

Well, this is probably some kind of record for me getting a race report up.  At least recently.  I'm far too busy running to blog!  (well, not really...).  Anyway, here are the gory details of the 2012 edition of the amazing Logan Peak Trail Run.  I knew that this race was going to be epic.  Bruce Copeland made it known that he was inviting any and all past winners and top finishers to this year's race, so the level of competition was going to take a huge leap.  Usually, there are at least a couple of local elites and one or two others to mix it up at the top, but this year promised to have a stacked field of good runners--any one of whom was capable on a good day of running away with the race.  My (former) running buddy, ex-Loganite, and two-time LPTR winner Jon Allen even decided to fly in from South Carolina as part of his big vacation for the year.  More on that later.  Cody Draper, the current CR holder was also present and accounted for, as was Seth Wold, a former USU Cross Country runner, and a rising star in the Utah ultrarunning scene.  Ty Draney was unfortunately tied up with the Black Hills 100 the week before, so he was the only notable absence as far as past winners/top finishers.  The race promised to be fast and furious, and it was almost certain that Cody's CR would be going down.

The Logan Peak Trail Run basically makes a heart shaped lollipop loop around the 9700' Logan Peak near Logan, UT.  The total vertical for the race is over 7200', and includes an out-and-back trip to the summit, as well as spectacular views from the North and South Syncline trails, and Logan Dry Canyon.  It is one of my favorite races, and is one of the most beautiful I have run.  The course is advertised at 28 miles, but it is probably a little short.  The Garmin clocks it at 26.5, but this terrain is notorious for having a heyday with GPS accuracy, so it's probably between 27 and 27.5 miles, although it runs like a 50k.

Looking North over the route

Elevation Profile

Well, on with the story.  We started a few minutes late, but temperatures were still fairly cool.  Jon was shivering like we were at the North Pole, being acclimated to the hot, humid SC summers.  He almost did not make it to the race, because when he went to catch his flight, he found to his dismay that it had been cancelled and rebooked for Saturday afternoon--much too late for the race.  Thankfully, Dale, another trail runner from Seattle, saw Jon's woeful post on the Fast Running Blog, and was able to donate his frequent flyer miles to the cause, saving the day.  Apparently, Jon didn't even know him personally.  It's nice to see runners taking care of each other like that.  One of the big draws of this sport, in my opinion.  At any rate, we were all there at the start, looking forward to a great race.

Once we got going, Jon, Cody, Seth, Drew Michener, Neal Legler, and myself formed the lead pack.  As expected, Seth took off hard once we got to Dry Canyon.  Neal soon followed, but remembering last year's race, I had already decided I would be better served to let them go and take the chance that they would come back in the later stages of the race.  Many people make the mistake of going out too hard, thinking that all the climbing is over once you get to the peak, but then crash and burn over North Syncline, which looks easy on paper, but presents a real challenge late in the race.  I was counting on catching Seth at some point there or on the return trip down Dry, knowing I had a better downhill gear and would be more fresh if I didn't kill myself at first.  Unfortunately, this was not to be, but it was the only way to go.  Drew, Cody, and Jon followed suit, and we took it pretty easy going up Dry Canyon.  Presently, Cody got impatient with my easy pace, and took over pace-setting duties.  We still didn't go too hard, but we did pick up the pace significantly.  Before we knew it, we were at the first aid station.  Cody, myself, and Drew went through without stopping, as it was still early and cool and we had plenty of supplies to get to the next aid.  I'm not sure if Jon stopped or not, because he had fallen a few steps back, presumably feeling the effects of late-night travel and not much sleep.  South Syncline went by like a breeze.  We were moving well, and making good time.  Near the end of South Syncline, Jon finally caught back up to us and then he and I moved ahead a few paces.  It was really nice at this point to get a few minutes to catch up with Jon, whom I hadn't seen in two years or talked to other than through comments on the FRB and this blog.  We went through the second aid together, and I topped off my water and grabbed some pretzels and potato chips--my favorite aid station foods.  It tasted good to have something salty and not sweet in my mouth, as I'd pretty much been sticking to Shot Bloks and Powerade/water/Nuun mix.

Jon and I soon caught and passed Neal, and shortly after saw Seth come by on his way down from the peak.  He had already amassed what looked to me like a 10 minute lead.  He was either in great shape to run away with this thing, or he was going to have one of the most spectacular blowups in the history of this race.  Out of my control.  I was just going to run my race, and let the chips fall where they may, though I did hope to win.  We were a couple of minutes under CR pace ourselves, so I was hoping to have a good PR for this course.    We reached the peak at the same time, smiled for the Herald Journal photogs there, and started back down.  I soon put a little distance on Jon, but not more than 10 seconds or so.  Shortly after the summit, we passed Cody, who had dropped Drew and was still moving pretty well.  I also passed my old Cross Country coach, John Womack, who has since moved up to Cache Valley and was running in his first ever ultra.  He was in probably 10th to 15th place and looking strong, so I gave him a hi-five as I passed by.

I arrived at the aid station feeling great and ready for North Syncline.  I topped off my bottle again, snagged a few more chips and pretzels to munch on, and took off for what I think is the hardest leg of this race, mentally at least.  I was moving very well, and was soon able to put a few more seconds on Jon.  By the time I turned off the Jeep road onto the singletrack, I could no longer see him out of the corner of my eye or hear him.  Most of North Syncline went pretty uneventfully.  I didn't push too hard on the downhill portion, knowing what was ahead, but just cruised along enjoying the moment.  Soon the course turned uphill, and I finally began to feel the fatigue.  Hiking breaks became more frequent, and by the time I got to the mule ear pass (I don't know if it actually has a name, but if you know what mule ear is, and you run this race, you'll know what I mean), I was hurting pretty bad, though I was still in a decent state of mind.  I looked back and saw that Jon had finally caught me, and he continued to gain ground as we climbed to the summit of North Syncline.  At the top, he was right on me, and I expected that any minute now he would pass me.  I even offered to let him go by, but he declined.  I found later that he was planning to, but every time he would go to pass me, I would start running again.

Glorious downhill!  As we dropped back into Dry Canyon, I began to get my legs back, and by the time I hit the aid I had managed to build a 10 second gap on Jon.  He stopped for a few seconds at the aid, but I ran through, knowing I'd need every second.  I flipped the switch to kamikaze mode for the descent, and hoped I would't take a spill.  Soon, I was alone again, and racing against myself and the clock, and the phantom Jon footsteps I kept hearing behind me.  I finally made it to the last short section over the Bonneville Shoreline Trail, and found to my surprise that I had good legs under me still.  I was able to run every step of the remainder of the race, despite some climbs that no runner wants to see when he can literally see the finish line below.  I cruised into the finish for a record-breaking time of 4:09:53.  I hadn't made up much ground on Seth, who finished 9 minutes ahead, who had just missed breaking the 4:00 mark.  But it was ok.  I was happy to finish second in a tough race with some great competition, even though I was hoping that this year I would be able to break the second place curse.

After the awards ceremony, I went to Bear Lake with some friends for a traditional (and well deserved) LaBeau's burger and shake, and a nice cool swim in the cold water.  Heaven. 

This was a great race.  I'm very happy with my results and the huge, 14 minute PR.  The old CR was indeed shattered, by all of the top 4 finishers.  Cody finished a solid 3 minutes ahead of his old mark.  It was really good to see Jon again, and make plans for pacing Hardrock in a couple of weeks.  Looking forward to that for sure!  Once again, the aid station staff, post race spread, trail marking, etc were all five star.  Bruce does a wonderful job with this race, so a big thanks goes out to him and the other personnel involved!  Looking forward to next year.  Maybe I'll break the curse!

Here is the Herald Journal writeup on the race, as well as a photo gallery.  Kudos to them for covering it.

Race Report: Pocatello 50k

Distance:  35 miles
Time:  6:57:05
Place:  4

What a crazy race.  35 miles across some very tough terrain in tough conditions...bring it on, right?  Cody and I drove up to Pocatello on Friday night after work and made it to the 50 Mile starting area at Mink Creek just as the temperatures were starting to cool off and the sun was going down.  We set up Cody's tent (mostly because of the bugs) and both went to bed fairly early.  I actually slept exceptionally well, despite only using a couple of blankets for a sleeping pad, and woke up quite refreshed at around 5:30 after hearing Cody rummaging about getting ready for his race.  He was running the 50 miler, which started at 6 AM, while my race, the 50k (legs 2 and 3 of the 50M), wouldn't start until 8:30.  I lounged around drinking water and Powerade until I felt sick, because the weather report was calling for a scorcher.  After the start of the 50M I got dressed in my race clothes and ate some last minute snacks and got on the bus that would take me to the starting line.

50 Mile Start

Once I got to the starting line I kept swigging water like a camel and consequently had to pee about 3 times in the half hour we were waiting for the race to start.  Unfortunately, I also discovered that my Garmin battery had somehow died, so I have no data on this run.  I chatted with Ty Draney and Luke for a minute before the race.  Soon, we lined up at Luke's makeshift starting line which he drew in the dirt with his foot.  Classic.  After the countdown, we were off.

Ty, myself, and two other guys quickly formed the lead pack and headed off at a brisk but manageable pace.  The lead guy seemed to be antsy, and he began putting distance on us right away.  The rest of us decided to let him go, knowing that there were still 30+ miles of racing ahead.  Turned out to be a good decision.  The first leg was 15 miles between the City Creek Trailhead and Mink Creek, the first half of which varied between a moderate and insane climb.  The first few miles flew by, as I'd run this part of the course before.  Presently, the other guy (Brian, I think) began to move ahead chasing the first guy who took off, but I decided that my best strategy would be to hang around Ty.  I correctly surmised that he would be the man to beat in this race.  We chatted off and on and got to know each other a little bit, although we were already somewhat acquainted.  Ty is a really cool guy...a great person to run with on some trail in the middle of nowhere.  After the first few miles of gradual climb, the trail became very steep and rocky, taking us up a narrow draw leading straight up the side of the mountain.  The overhanging scrub formed a sort of tunnel which was nice and shady.  I already knew that today was going to be very hot, because the temperature, while initially cool, was beginning to rise rather quickly.  Eventually, we exited the chute and began hiking up out of the ravine and soon crested the mountain onto a dirt road.  We could see the leader about 2 minutes ahead of us, and Brian about a minute ahead.  At this point, the course turned to a long, gradual downhill, and we began to open up the pace a bit and close the gap.  We soon caught Brian, and by the time we got to the first aid station we had nearly a minute on him.  We quickly filled our bottles and began hiking up another 600 foot climb.  The second guy made up some time here, as we were kind of dilly-dallying, saving our strength for the really tough parts ahead.  He hung with us as we reached the top of the climb and began the smooth and very gradual descent into Mink Creek Aid.  Somewhere along here, Ty peeled off into the bushes for a pit stop, and I decided that if I was going to get a chance to make a move, this would be it and likely my only one.  So, I flipped the knob to my best mile-eating pace without killing myself and tried to put some distance between me and Ty.  I quickly dropped Brian, and just cruised along enjoying the run.  About a mile or so out from the aid, I unexpectedly caught the lead guy.  I don't know if he was hurting or if I was just feeling really good going fast but I blew past him and he quickly dropped out of sight.  In the space of less than probably 3 miles I went from 4th to 1st with a nice lead.  I determined that my best strategy would be to hang on to the lead as long as possible, and to try and get out of range of Ty's insane downhill gear before the descent off of Scout Mountain, about 13 miles +/- ahead.  I'm no slouch of a downhill runner compared to most, but Ty is in a league of his own.  I pulled into the aid feeling great about how everything was going thus far.  The aid station personnel were great and had my drop bag ready for me so while they were filling my bottle I grabbed a couple of sleeves of Shot Bloks and another Nutri-Grain bar, as well as some potato chips.  I finished off by stuffing half a PB&J into my mouth.  I was loaded up for the long road over Scout Mountain.

Once out of Mink Creek aid, I began to really notice the heat of the day.  Until now, it had been morning time and the trail had been relatively shaded, but at this point the trail became more exposed to the already hot sun.  Water was going to be an issue, so I began to think that I should have brought two bottles.  Too late.  Soon I heard a sound behind me, and glancing over my shoulder I saw that I was being pursued by the guy I passed before Mink.  He looked to be feeling good and was obviously making up ground on me.  I tried to pick up the pace without redlining and began to put the distance back on him.  The heat and fatigue were beginning to tell on me, but I was still feeling decent and that's just part of the game.  By the time I reached the next aid station, I had put at least a minute back on him on a pretty tough grunt of a section.  Luke met me 3-4 minutes in front of the aid and gave me an update on the 50 mile race.  It was nice to have a little help and encouragement there, and he got some orange slices (note to self, orange slices are awesome) and S-caps ready for me.  I left the aid with renewed vigor and got ready for the tough climb up Scout Mountain.

The 50k consists of Legs 2 and 3 of the 50M.  Mink Creek Aid is at the bottom of the "V" between 2 and 3.

I had no idea how far back Ty was, and I wasn't too excited about anyone else catching me, so I decided that it was now or never to put the hammer down.  This section was really beastly.  Not a lot of runnable territory.  Lots of hiking.  But, here I discovered that I actually have an uphill gear.  I was figuring that Ty couldn't be more than a couple of minutes back, and that the other guy was probably somewhere closer (assuming Ty hadn't passed him--not a safe assumption), and I was also guessing that Brian was somewhere within 5 minutes of me.  At one point there were three random college age kids, one wearing a were-wolf suit.  Side story:  apparently there had been a Sasquatch sighting a couple of weeks before the race in the area--I'm guessing that had something to do with the wolf suit. They were hollering and screaming like a bunch of drunk Indians.  I waved as I powerhiked past them, chuckling to myself but glad of the support.  About a hundred yards past them I heard them yelling again, and got a bit of a scare, but it turned out to be a 20 mile runner.  He caught me and we chatted for a bit.  Nice guy.  He took off and I kept powerhiking.  This section was actually pretty empowering, because I discovered a new uphill ability.  I was moving really well...better than I ever remember on such a tough section.  Soon I got out of the trees and onto the more exposed mountainside.  There were switchbacks, and I thought I could make out Ty about 5 minutes behind, along with a few 20 milers between us.  I was really surprised that I'd been able to put that kind of distance on him uphill.  I came across one of the very few snow patches and filled my hat with it.  It started melting in my eyes and stinging really bad, so I switched the brim around to the back and that was really nice because it would drip water down my back--very nice.  The rest of the climb was pretty uneventful.  Got passed by a couple more 20 milers and didn't really care, saw some four-wheeler riders who thought we were crazy, filled my hat with snow again.  The views were great from the top of Scout.  This really is a very scenic course.  Finally I reached the summit, and a guy said it was 3 miles to the aid, all downhill.  He lied.  It had to have been at least 5.  It was definitely downhill though.  The first part of the descent is usually a glissade down a snowfield, but this year with the hot temperatures and lack of snow it was a downhill hike.  I was tired and not too excited for the steep drop, but I made it down to the more sensible and runnable section without falling on my face, so it was a success.  The fast descent started to mess with my breathing again, but I think I have discovered how to deal with it.  I noticed that I would not breathe as deeply as I needed to, but if I focused on it I could do better.  I also found that putting my hands on my head for a few steps helped to loosen up my diaphragm.  Somewhere in here I ran out of water.  Poor planning.  Couldn't eat without water, so I got no electrolytes, and no water for at least a mile.  Not good.  I paid a heavy price.

I FINALLY reached the final aid station at Big Fur (Fir?--who knows) after what seemed an eternity.  I was swearing under my breath at the jerk at the top who said it was only three miles.  Probably not too nice of me, but hopefully you'll cut me some slack.  Should have been more familiar with the course.  The aid did look like the pearly gates of heaven at this point.  I was thinking I had 7 miles to go, probably because the heat wasn't helping my math skills, but they said it was only 5.  I asked for water, orange slices, and S-caps.  I tore into a couple of orange slices and got a big glassful of water.  It was super cold and refreshing.  Unfortunately, I was too far gone on my electrolytes, and I didn't get 10 feet out of the aid before it all came back up.  Ty finally caught me at this point, with the lead 50 miler hot on his heels.  He got out of the aid before I finished losing my breakfast.  From here, things went downhill in a hurry.  Actually, they went uphill.  After a brief stint on the blazing hot asphalt road, and a couple of stops to puke up the water I was trying to drink, the course turned onto a dirt road/snowmobile trail, and climbed relentlessly uphill.  I had been expecting this, but I had also been expecting to be able to run more than 100 feet without stopping to puke my guts out.  My state continued to worsen, and I was reduced first to walking, then walking from one shade tree to the next and stopping to rest and throw up.  This continued for what felt like forever.  Got passed by lots of people, mostly 50 and 20 milers.  Saw Karl Meltzer come running past like he was out on an easy Saturday run, and he tried to get me moving as he ran past.  Surprisingly, there seemed to be no 50k runners passing me.  The second place guy had passed me at the turnoff onto the dirt, but no one in the hour or so since, so I was still somehow in third place.  Finally, when I had just over a mile to go, a guy caught me and knocked me back into fourth.  No big clay urn for me today.  But I didn't have anything in me to do anything about it.  Shortly after that, I stopped under a shade tree to try and bring my body temperature down.  I could just feel myself cooking to death, and I knew I was in trouble.  This was no longer a race for placing or fun, but a matter of survival.  I had water, but could not keep it down.  Dangerous.  Do not try this at home.  As I was lying there, some kindly 20 milers stopped and asked if I was ok.  I finally admitted that I wasn't and told them to let the people at the finish know that I was in bad shape, but that I was going to try and make it in anyway.  I was this [] close to DNF-ing in the last two miles of the race.  But, thankfully that was not to be.  Cody finally caught me and told me to get off my butt and run the last mile.  I didn't realize I was that close (remember, my Garmin was dead), so I got to my feet and began to shuffle forward again.  Another kind lady, Sherry I think was her name, bless her heart, gave me some encouragement and said she would run in with me, as we were going about the same speed.  She really kept me going and I finally found the ability to run under my own power again, thanks to an S-cap that finally started working.  The last mile was torturous, but I made it into the finish in one piece and very glad to be done with the hardest race of my life, and in 4th place despite the adversity.

The last five miles took me almost two hours to complete, but I still finished in just under 7 hours.  Not bad considering the extreme heat, my poor planning, and the resulting 5 mile death march.  Surprisingly, I was able to recover very quickly once I got some water to stay down and got cooled off in the shade.  There was some little kid at the water spigot who was taking great pride in spraying down grateful runners with a hose.  He asked if I wanted to be sprayed and I gladly accepted.  Heavenly.  Cody, however, did not fare so well.  I did a lot of my recovery on the course, but after he finished, his condition deteriorated rather than improved.  I got my appetite back and was enjoying a giant bowl of chili, provided after the race (Best. Chili. EVER.  Sorry Mom, I'm sure yours is just as good after running 35 miles) when Cody sat down next to me and it was immediately obvious that he was in a bad way.  He was white as a sheet, soaking wet, and shaking like a quaking aspen leaf on a windy day.  He couldn't eat, drink, or do much of anything besides shuffle over to the fire pit and try to throw up.  I was keeping an eye on him, wondering if he'd recover or if he would need help, when he asked me to go get Luke (the RD/"freaking doctor") to help.  Long story short, he ended up in the medical trailer with an IV in his arm hugging bags of ice.  Kind of comical, actually.  He was a new man after about an hour of that. Here's a photo of he and Ty being revived:

Note the barf bowl by Cody's leg.  Thankfully they didn't use it.

After this small but memorable adventure, we made our way back to Logan.  This race was a big success for me, even though the last part of it was extremely brutal.  I proved a lot to myself, and learned a lot of things that will help me be a better runner in the future.  Like bringing more than one bottle when there's going to be 10 miles between aid stations and the forecast says it's going to be 85 degrees and sunny.  Both Cody and I were very satisfied with our races.  He finished a whole hour ahead of what he thought he could do, and placed 7th against some VERY good competition in what is known to be one of the hardest, if not the hardest, 50 mile race in the country.  I finished 4th in my race, even taking almost two hours to go the last 5 miles, and I held my own against some very good runners, and I gave myself a good chance to win a very tough race.  Made a couple of new friends in the process and overall had a really good day.  Now, on to the next adventure!