After finally getting my silver buckle in February at Rocky Raccoon, I was ready to take a break from 100 mile trail runs for a while. However, when I saw so many of the HCTR (Hill Country Trail Runners) people signing up for Big Horn, I couldn’t resist a chance to spend some time with these great folks. Plus, I just tend to do better in all aspects of my life when I have a race goal hanging out on the horizon.

I used Hogs Hunt 50k and Rocky Hill 50k as training races. In both of these races, I had trouble with my achilles tendon in my left heel. Figured out it was from having calf muscles that were too tight but the recovery was very slow and I could barely run over 10 miles without the irritation flaring up. I never push through physical pain when training because I know in the long run it takes more time to heal. So when it was time for Joe Prusaitis’ training camp in the Guads (Highest mountains in Texas. Near El Paso) four weeks from race day, I wasn’t sure if I was fully healed or adequately trained. But I decided that this was the time to push to see how I was doing. The training camp went wonderfully with a 38 mile run one day and 16 the next in some very mountainous, rocky terrain. This was a huge confidence builder for me. The next weekend (3 weeks out), I did a 20 mile training run from 1:30am to 5:30am and one day later, a 20 mile training run with 200 oz of water in a camelback(for weight, not drinking) along with two 20oz hand-held bottles to actually drink. This, along with weight training and other shorter runs would have to be all I could give towards training for this race. I have severe limitations on my time because I’m a single parent of two teenage daughters, but I would have to rely on being fully recovered, my race strategy, and experience to get me through. So on race day I was fully rested, healthy (except for the chest cold-lol), but slightly under-trained. This is better than the alternative.

Flew in to Sheridan, WY on Thursday before the race. No time to acclimate but I’ll just have to live with that. I tend to do ok at altitude so I’m hopeful this won’t be a problem. With only 3 hours sleep on Wednesday night, I was able to have a good restful night’s sleep the night before the race.

Race Start

Many would have preferred the race start earlier than 11am. But it gave us more than enough time to get there and prepare without having a stressful morning. I knew very little about the course but do have a little chart showing a 30 hour pace. Varying from my usual pre-race obsessing about every detail, this time I enjoy not knowing what is coming up and just taking whatever the course offers. However, I was concerned with how much water to carry on each leg. I had a small 40 oz camelback that fills without having to remove the bladder. This worked well. I also had one 20 oz hand-held. Had extra bottles in my bags in case I needed to carry more.

I started close to the front but made the same mistake that I made at Western States last summer. In an effort not to go out too fast, let a group of people in front of me on the road. Then once we got to the smaller trail, it was frustrating how slow the group was on the downhills. Then I had to spend extra effort to get around them. I think if you want to go faster on the downhills, it is worth the extra effort to go out fast at first to avoid the bottleneck.

The climb over the first 8 miles is about 3500 feet. Some of this was extremely steep. As fast as I am on the downhills, I am equally slow and measured on the uphills, careful to not waste valuable glycogen. But I still got caught up in the excitement of the race and exuberance from all of the rest and recovery and pushed somewhat in this section. I use a pace that is steady but not so fast as to have to stop and rest.

At 8.5 miles, the Upper Sheep station was a welcome site with fresh boiled shrimp if you can believe that. I grabbed two and dropped one in the dirt. Not one to waste food, I got my extra dose of minerals that morning. Hooked up with Joe Prusaitis here and stayed with him to Dry Fork Ridge (mile 13.4), the first major aide station. It is a pure joy to run with such an experienced runner and all around great guy. I loaded up with food and even had a fresh avocado in my drop bag. In retrospect it is easy to see mistakes. Eating a lot of food 13.4 miles into a race, about 1:30pm in the hot afternoon, at altitude, was a bad idea. The blood that you were using to keep your body cool and carry the scarce oxygen to your body is now busy trying to digest food. So something has to suffer. When it is hot and at altitude, it is better to take the food with you and snack along the way, especially easily digestible food like fruit. Baking in the sun, I would stop at each water crossing and dip my hat and put water on my head. My energy was just gone. Joe eventually caught up with me and we ran along together through Stock tank at 23.5 miles. Still in the hot, bright sun, we splash water on ourselves whenever possible. If you are hot, always apply water externally to cool yourself instead of having to push it all through your digestive system because ultimately, it is the evaporating water on the skin that cools you so why not save your system some work and apply it directly to the skin? Shortly after we left there, I entered the section I call the energy sucking vortex of hell. It’s not a bad section. Constant rolling up and down. But I let Joe go ahead. My energy dropped. I was sort of dizzy and my legs hurt to run at all. All my will could not force my legs to move more than a shuffle. This 3 miles would be the lowest of the entire race.

Here is a peak into my brain…..

“Only 24 miles in and I just have no energy. I can’t mentally force my legs to run. That first huge climb took it out of me and I pushed too hard. My hamstrings are sore. Legs feel like rubber. You know I really didn’t have time to adequately train for this race. After all, I’ve proven to myself that I can do this. Why put myself through this torture again? Who am I trying to impress? I don’t even like trail running that much. I need a new hobby. All the rain and snow has ruined the trails. These cutoff times are not designed for these conditions. This altitude… Flatlanders can’t just fly up here and run 100 miles in the mountains without acclimating. And this chest cold that I’ve had... My immunity is down. Is that rattling in my lungs pulmonary edema?

I chuckle to myself as these thoughts, my little demon friends, join me in times of trouble. These thoughts circle me like little imps. Job’s comforters. I chuckle because I know they are only thoughts and things will get better. This view only comes through the experience of suffering through previous 100s.

These are the thoughts spinning through my head as I slow down to a mere walk in some sections between Stock Tank (23.5 miles) and Bear Camp (26.5 miles). Not even a quarter of the race done and I feel completely spent. Dizzy. Dreamily, nauseously stumbling along in Neverland. Just a bad dream. That’s all. The only advantage I have to others in this state is that I know I have been here before. And I know that things can turn around dramatically. The knowledge of this and the hope it brings is enough to help a person push on in spite of great difficulty that the moment presents.

I get to Bear camp aide station and announce almost jokingly to the few volunteers “I need aide!!!!”. They asked what kind of aide that I needed and I said I didn’t know. But I sat on a stump and asked for a cup of broth and put some crackers in. It tasted soooo good. I realized that I had a caloric deficit and was probably hyponeutrimic (low blood sodium) even though I had taken salt tabs. The soup was the perfect medicine. Diana H. came in looking strong. I filled my bottle and plunged off into the 3 ½ mile steep descent to the Tongue river and felt better than ever and never felt that low the rest of the entire race. I’m lower 4 hours into the race than at 30 hours. I’m at the end of my rope at 4 hours and at over 30 hours, I can still run strong. None of this scenario is surprising to an ultra runner, but I do want to focus on one part of this that plays itself out over and over in our lives. The problem was simple. I was in need of calories and salt. The brain is a powerful tool when used properly. As a tool. But if we let it run wild, it can conspire with the body against us and hide the simplest solutions from us. My body was in pain but instead of focusing on the real problem, my brain began spinning these wild thoughts and scenarios designed to get me to stop whatever I was doing.

Here is a secret to the ultra-running newbies. DO NOT TRUST YOUR BRAIN OR ABILITY TO ANALYZE YOUR SITUATION IN AN ULTRA IF YOU ARE THINKING YOU NEED TO QUIT FOR SOME REASON. IT WILL TRY TO TRICK YOU IN TO STOPPING WHEN YOU REALLY DON’T NEED TO. At least talk it over with the aide station volunteers who are usually experienced ultra runners. But I swear, your brain can build a rock-solid case against your ability to finish.

The drop from Bear Camp to the Footbridge at the Tongue river is the steepest on the course. I force my legs to run again and they respond. I stop for a moment to look at the beautiful view of the sun reflecting off the canyon walls. Luckily, I didn’t pay much attention to just how long I ran downhill or how steep it was because the climb back would be the worst I’ve had ever seen. But that’s later in the story.

The Footbridge is 30 miles into the race. I decided that with all of the water and mud on the course, I would re-lube my feet and change socks. I sit down and take my time in the station. Drink a Monster energy drink and it really hit the spot. Did the medical weigh-in and was 10 pounds up. But most of that was probably the mud on my shoes. Picked up my mp3 player and took off and felt strong through the narrows at 33.5 miles.

“and long ago somebody left with the cup but he’s racing, and pacing, and hugging the turns…”

I decide that since it is evening, I don’t need the camelback to be filled. I just take off with the one 20 oz bottle. Didn’t realize that the next 7 miles would be so arduous and would run out of water long before I reached Spring Marsh at mile 40. I even stopped and filled my bottle with water from a creek but saw the lights of the station before I drank it. I was really dehydrated after going over an hour without water. At the aide station I drank and drank the cool water they were getting from a fresh spring.

About 9:30pm I finally turned on my flashlight.

There are moments that stand out in races. Moments that are supremely significant and stick in your memory forever. All alone in a Wyoming wilderness, I see the most spectacular scenery of my entire life. The stars are filling the sky. My 10 led flashlight is illuminating the sage along the trail. I break off a piece and breathe in the smell. The song on my mp3 player is

“What kind of world do you want?
Think anything
Let’s start at the start
Build a masterpiece
Be careful what you wish for
History starts now”.

The world never seemed as perfect as at that moment. I was running without effort. I had no destination in mind. No thoughts of how far I had to go. No thoughts of anything except being totally raptured by the moment. My legs felt like they could go on forever. And they had gone for miles without stopping. The scenery, the lights in the far distance of my brothers and sisters on the trail. There is no way to describe such moments. But hopefully you will experience one. If it takes running a 100 miles to have a few moments like that, it is well worth it.

Grab a bite at Elk Camp at mile 43. Sat in a chair by the warm fire for about 1 minute, then move on back into the dark wilderness that feels like home. Between here and Porcupine (mile 48) is a big climb and this is where the snow really gets deep. In some places, the steps up on to the snow drifts were over knee high. Walk along and fall through the snow up to your knees. Sometimes hit logs buried in the snow. Where there was not snow, there was shoe-sucking mud. This is where a lot of injuries happened. I saw Joe again. Never thought I would see him again. He was out of calories and in a slump. I only have one tiny snickers square and give it to him. He said he was ok so I left him. I felt bad but I also knew Joe and he would be back before long.

The Porcupine ranger station was like nirvana. Warm building. Grilled cheese. Drop bag with another avocado and a monster drink. Didn’t change socks here because I had nothing but mud and snow waiting for me on the trip back. Actually, though this is the turnaround point, the return trip is 52 miles because we end up further than the starting point. Spent about 15 minutes getting refueled and getting my courage up to hit the cold night air again. Had gloves, stocking cap, jacket. At 1:30am, I stepped outside and was shocked by how cold it was. Post-holing through the snow, my leg breaks through and hits a hidden log under the snow and bends painfully. Luckily my reactions were quick enough that I released my weight from it in time and fell to the ground instead of breaking the leg. Gabe ended up breaking his in the same area.

Ran pretty strong for the next 3 hours.

It starts getting light about 4:30am and I was near Spring Marsh (mile 56). The volunteers had to pack things a long way in and I very much appreciated their being there but there just wasn’t much food to sustain a person for the next 10 miles to the next major aide station. Would have killed for a PB&J. Luckily I had put a bag of corn nuts in my belt. That bag of corn nuts would come in handy. Sat head in hands feeling a little sorry for myself that I had so much more suffering to do. Ok, pity party is over. Grabbed what I could and headed out.

The next section I know I was in some sort of altered state because I can’t remember much except being really hungry. But still was able to move pretty well. I was just thinking that I was running pure fat and muscle breakdown to fuel my running. Just looking forward to the Footbridge aides station at mile 66 so I could refuel, re-lube my feet, and prepare for the last leg of the race.

“Three little birds, sat on my window, telling me that I don’t need to worry”

Made it in to Footbridge and was treated to pancakes with butter and syrup. Ate some fruit and whatever else I could find. Changed clothes, redid my feet and reapplied body glide to every place I normally would chafe. Saw Joe and Diana come in and decided to rest and delay a while so I could have some company. We move along carefully and Joe tries to describe the climb called “the wall” that we are about to face. He colorfully describes it in no uncertain terms. It was tough. I’ve climbed Devil’s Thumb in Western States. That one took me about 50 minutes. This climb was much worse. It took us over 90 minutes to make it to the top. We didn’t stop. Constant up up up. The trail was full of running water and mud. We were lucky in that the sky was cloudy.

I make it to Bear Camp(mile 70) and 66 year old Hans-Dieter who was doing his 99^th 100 miler came up the hill with his hiking poles and asked me “WHY ARE YOU SMILING????” in his thick German accent. I said “WHY NOT???”. He sat down and said “WHY ARE WE DOING THIS??? WE COULD BE IN TOWN, AT THE MOVIES WITH OUR FAMILIES”. Noone had a good answer. We knew he wasn’t really looking for one. He would have found it by now if he was. Joe, Diana, and myself head out. Diana’s wanting to finish her first mountain 100 miler and was strong with a good attitude every time I saw her. Back in the energy vortex from hell, we plod along together. It’s good to be with friends but this is the part of the race that is pure work. The next aide station is just a pipe coming out of the ground. The sun is hot and the cold water feels good. Pure work and survival and suffering and enduring. We find a fellow runner from Texas under the perfect shade tree. He announces to Joe that he is done. Finished. Not going on. Joe politely asked how the heck he planned on getting off the mountain. I guess that hadn’t been the priority yet. It was obvious this guy was in the same funk that we all get in. Physically ok but mentally just in a stupor. I can see how the superstitious people of ancient times came to believe certain things because its almost like the spirit temporarily leaves the shell of a body behind. He finally drags his butt up and joins our psycho train to Torcherville. It was a joy to see him come across the finish line later that night.

Early in the race, we tip-toed around water crossings where possible. But now we were stepping in all of them to try to cool our aching, swollen feet.

I laugh when I think of all of the science that goes in to sports nutrition when here I am, surviving on a bag of corn nuts. Fat, salt, high-glicemic food. Not too bad if you think about it.

By the time we make it to Cow Camp (76 miles), I am completely calorically drained. When I see the big pile of bacon, I was IN brother. You have never tasted anything so perfect as a piece of watermelon with a piece of bacon on top. The sweet and salty combination was perfect. At this point, I’m doing mental calculations and I’m worried about making it under the 9pm deadline because you never know when you will crash. Feeling stronger, I decide to pull out ahead of Joe and Diana because I figure I would have another low spot and they would catch me. Gotta go with the energy while it is there. The sun is just baking but the cool streams offer a quick break as I dip my hat in as I go by.

The climb to Dry Fork (82 miles) is absolutely brutal. Some spectator told me at some point that I had 20 minutes to the station. He neglected to tell me it took him 20 minutes to get DOWN the hill. I’m still worried about the time so I refuel and head out again. The HCTR people were there cheering and it made all the difference. The people, that is why we keep coming back to the races.

Chat with the Kniplings for a second. Met the father/son combo at Western States. They were doing the 50 miler today.

Decided to leave my jacket at Dry Fork. I’d carried it for a long time and didn’t need it. Decided to make a dash for the finish without it. Of course the clouds start to darken, the wind starts to pick up. The huge drops start to fall. By the time I make it past Upper sheep, I’m looking for a garbage bag. Anything to keep me warm and dry. The wind is blowing at least 40 mph. I decided just to move faster and try to stay warm. You have to have a jacket in the mountains, even if you never use it.

Upper sheep is where the big downhill happens. I was looking forward to the downhill. Supposed to “make up time” there. But it was much steeper than I remembered and I could not run fast down this steep of a hill. Each step was very painful to my feet. Down down down. I would have moved faster walking on flat ground.

When things finally flattened out at mile 93, I was able to run strong. No longer having to be conservative, I was running and passing other runners. This is where all of the mental tricks can help out. I became uncharacteristically competitive and used that to push myself forward. Running onward. Faster and faster. I passed at least twelve 100 milers in this last 7 miles. I set a new goal. To finish in under 32 hours. The pain in my feet, legs, and body was still there. But I just disassociated from that pain. Just let the pain flow out as I push on. My feet will heal. That last 5 miles of road goes on and on. I kept thinking the finish was around the next bend but it was much further than I anticipated. Still running. Pushing through the pain. Willing the body forward.

Come within a ½ mile of the finish and start an all-out sprint. I am amazed that I am able to run this fast and this far after running 100 miles, up and down over the equivalent of 18 Transco Towers in Houston. Through the mud and muck. Experiencing this after having been so down only 4 hours in to the race is what gives strength, faith, and hope when times are tough. 31 hours 42 min.

Come in to the park and all of my HCTR friends are cheering for me.

Only 52% finished but every one accomplished something amazing. It doesn’t take a certain number of miles or a certain time to call the day a success. Being out there, being alive, being strong and healthy, doing something you love with a bunch of friends. That’s why I don’t get a new hobby.

“be careful what you wish for, you just might get it all”