On August 1st, I ran the Tushars 93k trail race in Utah, but I'm going to back up a little bit. I had been in Colorado for the month of July just running and exploring the area. Because I was camping in my car, I had the luxury of being able to drive to a bunch of different towns without having to plan on where to stay. I started the trip in Silverton, CO where I stayed for about 2 weeks and got to experience the Hardrock 100 trail run, including pacing a runner for 26 miles. It was an awesome experience, and the San Juan mountains are the most gorgeous, rugged mountains I have ever seen. Really, there is something magical about that place.
After my time in Silverton, I drove to Aspen where I was doing the Audi Power of Four 50k. The race was run on 3 different ski areas which meant all of the climbs consisted of going up ski lift lines. Straight up. The race had over 12,000ft of climbing all at an elevation between 9,000-12,500ft. As a whole, I had a disaster of a race. My Camelbak leaked immediately, and I had to ditch it and run with an 8 ounce handheld. I made the mistake of not taking the gels out of my pack though and had nothing with me for the remainder of the race. Aid stations had nothing but water and Clif gels. The course was not marked well, and I got lost for about 25 minutes. Don't get me wrong, some of the issues I brought on myself, but I felt like race organization was lacking at best. Nevertheless, I managed to finish and did enjoy running. It was a good test and helped prepare me for the Tushars race.
The day after racing in Aspen, I drove to Leadville, CO, where I spend about a week running in that area. Leadville was absolutely gorgeous and a close second to my favorite town of Silverton. I managed to climb several 14ers, including Mt. Elbert, Mt. Massive, and Mt. Belford. As with the Power of Four race, I really believe that these runs at altitude helped me acclimate and be ready to run in Utah. Grand Mesa, CO, was my next stop on the adventure. My friends Matt and Natalie were out there because Natalie was running the Grand Mesa 50 mile. I met up with them on the Friday before the race and stayed to crew for Natalie on Saturday. Natalie did awesome and was the 3rd female. It was fun to hang out and crew for her. That evening, I drove to Grand Junction, CO, before heading to Moab, Utah on Sunday.
Moab was a bit of a culture and climate shock after being in Colorado for over 3 weeks. It was pretty crowded with tourists and HOT, like Las Vegas hot. The temperature in Silverton and Leadville would be about 40 in the morning and maybe 65 in the heat of the day. Plus I was going up to 14,000ft most days on my runs, so the temperature at altitude was much cooler. Moab never got below 60 degrees, and daytime highs averaged 95. But it was a dry heat, so it didn't feel too bad compared to the humidity in Chattanooga. Thankfully I was able to camp in the LaSal mountains just outside of Moab. Because it was at 9,000 ft, the temperature was much cooler. I visited Arches and Canyonlands National Park, both of which were way more crowded than anywhere I had been in Colorado. I guess after being in the small towns for so long, I was kind of turned off by so many people. It was a unique landscape though, and I'm glad I got to see the area. The Tushars 93k race was on Saturday, August 1st near Beaver, Utah, so I headed there the Thursday before.
The race started at Eagle Point ski resort at the top of the Tushar mountains. I was lucky enough to get a cabin at the resort on Thursday night, but everything was full on Friday. Granted I had been sleeping in my car for close to a month, so an actual room wasn't that big of a deal, but it is nice to have a real bed and shower the night before a race. Thankfully, the man who runs the resort was kind enough to rent me his condo for Friday night. It was only 5 minutes from the start which worked out perfectly.
Fast forward to Friday evening. I went to packet pickup and the race briefing where race director Matt Gunn described the course as being technical, overgrown, and full of steep climbing. He said there were sections that weren't really a trail, but they were marked very well. As far as climbing goes, there was 17,000ft of elevation gain. That scared me a little bit. I had done 50k races with 12,00ft of gain, but the thought of 58 miles with 17,000ft of climbing on gnarly terrain had me at least a little anxious. It also made me excited though at the challenge of it, and Matt promised us it was a beautiful course. After hearing his briefing, I headed back to the condo to wind down and prepare for the early 5am race start.
The 4am alarm came way too early, but I was eager to get going. I tried to eat a little breakfast and then drove to the start located at the Skyline Lodge at the top of the mountain. It was still pitch black dark, so I had to have a headlamp for the beginning of the race. Unlike Colorado, temperatures here were quite a bit warmer, even at altitudes of 9,000+ft. I was thankful for this though because I don't particularly like running in the freezing cold. It was probably around 50 degrees at the start, so I just wore a t-shirt with a light wind breaker on top. They had a big campfire going that runners could huddle around until it was time to go. At about 4:58, I walked to the start line where we waited for Matt to send us off. Right at 5am, he said "Go," and about 80 brave/crazy/scared runners headed off in the dark on what promised to be an all day adventure.
We ran down a jeep road for about a 1/4 mile before turning left onto another jeep road and starting to climb. I was kind of glad that this first part was on a road rather than a trail because it was easier to navigate and run in the dark. I soon realized that my headlamp was a piece of crap, pitifully dull and providing little light to illuminate the ground in front of me. Luckily there was enough light from the other headlamps around me to provide plenty of light. We soon turned onto singletrack and continued climbing onto a ridge. At the top, you could see the sun just starting to rise over the mountains to the east. It painted the sky a beautiful pink/orange color that was spectacular. Unfortunately, this was a race, so I didn't have time to stop and take in the view. After running along the ridge for a short time, we descended on a rather technical, steep trail. Parts of it were nice and runnable but other parts were steep and loose dirt which provided no traction whatsoever. Add on the fact that it was still dark and it makes for some dicey running. Thankfully about 6:15ish, the sun was out enough to provide adequate light such that I was able to take off my headlamp. Somewhere in the first few miles, a runner named Emma, whom I had met Friday, ended up right behind me. We chatted as we made our way to the first aid station at mile 7.7.
One of the many things that stood out about this race was the awesomeness of aid stations and the volunteers. As soon as I arrived, a volunteer offered to help me refill my pack and asked what I wanted to eat. I still had plenty of fluid, so I just hurried over to the table to see what looked appealing. Keep in mind this was only mile 7.7, but the aid station had a huge assortment of food, anything from your typical snacks to homemade pumpkin pie, banana nut muffins, biscuits, and even bacon hot off the skillet! I grabbed a pb&j quarter and headed out as quickly as I could. It was a little over 8 miles to the next aid station, including a summit of Delano Peak, the highest point on the course at over 12,000ft. We followed a nice dirt road for a bit before getting back on the trail and starting to climb. It had warmed up just enough at this point that I was able to take my jacket off. Weather was just about perfect.
Soon after turning off the dirt road, the trail sort of disappeared, and I found myself in the middle of a mountain field without the slightest clue where to go. Thankfully I saw a small group of runners up ahead of me, so I ran in their direction. I couldn't see any markers but did eventually find a post that marked where the trail went. As a whole, the course was marked remarkably well, but because parts of it had to be marked several days in advance, there is always the chance that flags will get dislodged. Apparently, the pink and silver ribbons are also very attractive to deer and elk who like to eat them. When I caught up to the group ahead of me, we eventually located a marker and continued up until the trail was more defined. The climb wasn't so bad at first, but then it just got downright steep. Parts of it weren't on an actual trail, and the terrain was very rocky. Near the top, it the most difficult. Seeing the sign at the top which marked the summit was a relief as I knew that I was almost done climbing. There were several guys up here shooting video, and I just knew I was going to fall as they were recording me go by. Fortunately that didn't happen, but I did have a spectacular wipe out about 3 minutes later. The descent was equally as rock and technical as the ascent, making for some dicey running. Near the bottom, we popped out onto a dirt road and ran up to the aid station at mile 16ish. I quickly refilled my Camelbak, grabbed some food, and headed out on the next 7 mile stretch. So far, my notoriously finicky stomach was cooperating, and my legs felt good, both of which had me in good spirits.
Because I had never been to the Tushar area before and didn't take much time to study the course map, I had no idea what to expect on each section as far as climbing goes. However, the overall theme seemed to be go up for a long way then go down and repeat. We were still pretty high up, so I figured there was some more downhill running before the next climb. This part of the course was on some amazing singletrack, smooth and offering sweet views of a turquoise lake way down below. I remember thinking to myself, "Man, I hope we go down there, so I can get an up close look at the lake." Sure enough, the trail wound around down the mountain before popping out right by the lake on a gravel road. It was a spectacular view. The only downside to being down at the lake was that we now had to climb right back up. At first, the gravel road was riddled with loose, chunky rocks that made any kind of forward progress difficult, but after a while, it got much smoother. Up, up, up I went until finally turning a corner and seeing the white tent that can only mean one thing...aid station. I again grabbed a handful of whatever food looked good and headed out down the dirt road that was also an ATV route called the Paiute Trail. This section was in great shape, smooth enough to drive any type of vehicle on, and was all downhill for the 3 miles to the next aid station. The combination of nontechnical terrain and downhill grade allowed me to make really good time on this segment, and before I knew it, I was at the 26ish mile Copper Belt aid station.
From Copper Belt, runners did a 6.5 mile out and back, so I would be returning to this aid station. Because I hadn't studied the course map, I knew nothing about this section until a guy I caught up to said that we would be climbing 3.000ft up to Copper Belt peak. Oh well. So much for completing the 6.5 miles in an hour like I had hoped. We began climbing up some switchbacks that were not too steep but very overgrown. I managed to miss the turn to start another switchback and soon found myself looking around for a trail or pink flag. Nothing. I knew we had to go up, so I bushwhacked up the mountain a little bit and headed back toward where I had come from, hoping to be able to spot the trail from a higher vantage point. After several minutes of scrambling, I spotted a runner on the switchback down below and followed the trail up to my level. I had to bushwhack a little more to get there, but I was able to get back on course without too much trouble and didn't lose much time during the little off trail ordeal. Once we finished with the switchbacks, the trail got much steeper. I saw the lead guys around here, and the top 3 were all still pretty close to each other, so it was anybody's race. We got to where the trail turned into scree and loose gravel like rock. This type of terrain is very difficult because you have minimal traction on steep uphills. Each step I took, my foot would slide back down. I kept looking up thinking I would see the summit, but the first few times, it turned out to be a soul crushing false summit. Finally, I got to the top where runners had to use a hole punch to mark their bib and prove that they had reached the turnaround point. I was relieved to be on my way back to the aid station and get some downhill.
One cool aspect of the out and back is that you get to see the runners who are both in front of and behind you. I had been running by myself for a large part of the day, so it was nice to see some people. I was also interested in how close the next few women were to me. I saw Emma coming up the mountain looking strong. This was her first ultra longer than a 50k. She sure picked a tough one! Coming in to the aid station at mile 33ish, I told the volunteers that I did not care for that section very much, and they said that the lead guys echoed this statement. I was encouraged when a volunteer told me that I had one of the fastest split times for this part. It sure didn't feel like I was moving very fast. From here, we climbed back up the dirt road called the Paiute Trail that we had descended earlier. Although it was a 3 mile uphill, this road was pretty runnable and not technical at all, so I was able to kind of zone out for a bit. The one downside was that there was a ton of ATV traffic by now. Every time a group would pass, I had to breath in exhaust fumes and dust for a few minutes. The ATVs were very courteous though and did slow down to go around us. Before too long, I came up on the aid station at mile 36. My stomach was rebelling at this point, making the food unappealing. I tried to grab a few things and nibble. If there was any consolation, the aid station captain told me that the next part was 7 miles of downhill singletrack. The thought of this made me happy because I hoped to be able to make up some time. It still would have been nice to feel better going in to this section though, but it is what it is.
I wouldn't say that it was all downhill, but the next 5 or so miles of singletrack were very runnable, and we were definitely descending. The last 2ish miles before the Miner's Park aid station were on a jeep road that was all downhill until the last little bit when we climbed up to the aid station. I was finally coming out of my rough patch and was happy to see the volunteers' friendly faces. They had homegrown cantaloupe and watermelon in addition to all of the other typical food. I grabbed a huge slice of watermelon and headed out. The next aid station at mile 50 would be the last before the finish.
Seeing as how we had basically been running downhill for 7 miles, I figured we had a beast of a climb coming up. Little did I know that was a huge understatement. The ascent started immediately but wasn't very steep at first. It was, however, on a totally overgrown trail with waist high grass. The only way I could see the way was from the guys in front of me who had knocked down the grass. Despite the lack of visible trail, it was marked well, and my mood was still good, so I didn't really mind. As I got higher up, the grass thinned out to the point that there was now a discernible trail. We climbed and climbed and climbed some more, switchback after switchback. Then it happened. I rounded a corner expecting to see another switchback, but instead, the trail just went straight up. It was so steep that I said out loud to myself, "You've got to be kidding me." With 46+ miles on my legs, it was just cruel. The level of suck definitely went up a few points here. Again, it is what it is, so I put my head down and tried not to look ahead as I made my way. Every once in a while I would let myself take a peek, but I swear it seemed to just keep going up and up. It turns out that this section was a 4,000+ft climb. At one point, I looked up and saw a gate ahead where the trail intersected. I made the turn and continued climbing on trail for a bit before it turned into that dreaded gravel/scree again. Remember that good mood I had leaving Miner's Park? Well it was long gone, and the rough patch had officially returned. If possible, the "trail" got even steeper. The worst part, though, was that every time I took a step, my foot slid back down. I couldn't even stop for a second because I would just start sliding down the mountain. There were numerous times when I found myself on all fours trying to scramble up to the next pink flag. And those damn pink flags kept going up and up. Every time I thought it was the top of the peak, it turned out to be a false summit. Then, by the grace of God, and I really mean that, I could see the actual summit ahead. It was still a little ways off, but at least I could see it. Two hours after leaving the previous aid station, I crested the summit and began the descent to the final aid station. I was cooked by now, so even the downhill was an effort, not to mention the fact that the first part was on the scree which offered no traction and was quite difficult to run. A couple miles of downhill later, I saw the glorious white tent of the Alunite aid station.
As I ran in to the aid station, a kind volunteer refilled my pack with water while I grabbed a little food. I knew I should probably get something because we still had 8ish miles to the finish including a fair amount of climbing. It was the same 8 miles that we did to start the race. Just before I left, I looked back and saw what appeared to be a girl coming up the road about 100 yards away. I asked the volunteer if it was indeed a girl, and he said he thought it was. "Crap," I thought, as I pictured myself losing in the last few miles. I was ticked at myself and blew out of there as fast as I could, determined to do everything in my power not to let the person catch me. I tried to stay as positive as I could and just tell myself that all I could do was work as hard as possible to the finish. If I got caught, then so be it, but I was not going to make it easy. If nothing else, I got a boost of energy from the adrenaline and forgot about how bad my legs hurt for few miles. The next little bit had more downhill than I remembered, technical, but still very runnable. The trail then rolled along before climbing up to the ridge. I swear I was pushing so hard that I alternated feeling like I was going to puke and pass out. That half of a nutella sandwich wasn't sitting very well. Whenever the trail turned a corner, I took a quick glance back to see if I could see anyone, but thankfully it was all clear for the moment. After cresting the ridge, we had a nice downhill portion on singletrack before hitting the road that we climbed near the beginning of the race. I knew that at the bottom of this, the course would turn right uphill for the final stretch to the finish line. Before long, I reached the turn and took one last look back, and it appeared that I was still ok. Going up this last hill, I thought about the day and race as a whole. I always experience a range of emotions coming in to the finish of an ultra. Part of me is so glad to be done while the other part is sad that the experience is over. Race director Matt Gunn was there to greet me as I finished. All I could do was say "Wow."
As soon as I stopped, it was like my body knew the race was over, and my legs just shut down. I literally hobbled over to a chair by the roaring fire and collapsed. I chatted with other runners for a little while, waiting to see how far back the lady was who I thought I had seen. As it turns out, this "lady" was actually a man wearing similar colored clothing as the woman had been. He was just too far off to tell the difference. Awesome. I just spent the last 8 miles killing myself for no reason. Oh well. It got me to the finish a good bit quicker :). I hung out for a few more minutes before forcing myself to get up and head back to my cabin to shower and pack up since I had to leave that day. Walking to my car, I realized that I had developed a nasty blister on the bottom of my left heel and ball of my foot. And by nasty I mean that there was basically no skin on the bottom of my foot. Seriously. If I had crutches, I would have used them without a doubt. Getting into the shower was downright excruciating. That pain, however, was surpassed by the wonderful feeling of finishing such a rugged yet beautiful course in a part of the world I had never seen. My month long adventure out west was coming to a rapid end, and the real world would set in soon seeing as how school started back in 3 days. I am so thankful to have been able to have this experience and hope to do it all over again next year. Thanks to everyone who was involved with the race. It truly was a spectacular, although cruel at times, event. I am beyond blessed to have the opportunity to run in the mountains
