Returning to the 100 at the Tahoe Rim Trail Endurance Races

What had to have been one of the busiest aid station decks in US ultra running had turned into one of the quietest. It was my second trip through the base lodge of Diamond Peak ski area, on lap two of the Tahoe Rim Trail 100 miler, and the throngs of cheering family, friends, crew, and aid station volunteers that had been there at high noon on my first time through had vanished, distilled down to a couple volunteers, one other runner, and me.

It was 2:50 am.

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Results: Jones-Wilkins takes 2010 Grand Teton 100 in Record Time

At the 2010 Grand Teton 100, Andy Jones-Wilkins (Patagonia, La Sportiva) showed his typical closing ability, finishing first in 18:35:23 and demolishing the course record of 19:19:51 set last year.  

Despite small numbers toeing the line, the lead end of the race featured two big guns, Andy Jones-Wilkins (AJW), winner of the 2010 Vermont 100 and perennial top 10 at the Western States 100, and Duncan Callahan (Vasque), winner of the Leadville Trail 100 in 2010 and 2008.  The two basically stayed head to head through halfway, with some small lead changes after that.  The final selection took place on the fourth-lap climb and descent of Fred's Mountain between miles 75 and 81.  AJW took the lead and never gave it back. Callahan finished a strong second in 19:03:58, also under the 2009 course record set by Ty Draney. (results)

Keri Wheeler of Jackson, WY took the women's race in 27:20:40.

This year is the swan song for the Grand Teton 100, though the other distances will continue.  The GT100 races over a 25 mile clover leaf course in and around the Grand Targhee Resort, with about 5,000 vertical feet per lap.

2010 Grand Teton 100 - Top 5 Overall 

1. Andy Jones-Wilkins 18:35:23 (cr)
2. Duncan Callahan 19:03:58
3. John Carroll 23:52:43
4. Steve Bremner 27:05:11
5. Kerri Wheeler 27:20:40 (first female)

Thanks to DC's crew for the Twitter updates @DuncanCallahan

Mid-Race Results (Mile 50): 2010 Grand Teton 100

Update (9-5-10):  Report on final results

In what is the swan song for the Grand Teton 100 (the other distances will continue), 2010 Leadville 100 winner, Duncan Callahan, and 2010 Vermont 100 winner, Andy Jones-Wilkins, have run to a near draw halfway through, with Callahan taking a slight lead heading out for the closing 50 miles (live results, lagged).

Ty Draney's 2009 course record of 19:19:51 is on the line (as are eternal GT100 CR bragging rights) on what is turning out to be a warm day at the Grand Targhee Resort.

The GT100 races over a 25 mile clover leaf course, with about 5,000 vertical feet per lap.

Mile 50
1. Duncan Callahan 8:30
2. Andy Jones-Wilkins 8:31:30

Thanks to DC's crew for the Twitter updates @DuncanCallahan

TI Chronicles: The Hope & Change Edition

As the calendar alerts on my computer and phone have been reminding me, I was supposed to be shirking my soccer coaching duties and deserting my family this weekend for a trip down to Michigan Bluff for some big training on the Western States course. That Western isn't happening for me this year is no longer news, though I did finally let the RD officially know last week that I wouldn't be coming, and I'm actually happy not to have to squeeze in my trail work over the next two weeks, since snow is still covering most of the area singletrack.

Apart from the reminder that I'll be missing Western, the past couple weeks and especially the last couple days have been trending in the right direction for my knee and the prospects of actually getting a race in this year.  To honor the fickle gods of injury, I am not saying that things are going great and that I'm out of the woods, because I'm not.  But, the knee has shown some decent improvement lately, and yesterday I actually got in my longest run since Wasatch.  It was slow and it wasn't epic - 21 miles with 4300 feet of vert - but it was something I'd call a real distance, and my knee held up very well and still feels pretty good today - the day after.

A couple months back, I set May 1 as my "reality check" for toeing the line at the Cascade Crest 100 in late August. If I wasn't running consistently by then, I reasoned, it was time to lop it off the calendar. Well, it's May Day, and I'm running consistently (if not horribly far) and if things keep trending as they are, I have an outside shot at that 100 mile tour of the Cascade Mountains.

So, I'm going to take it day by day, keep stretching, rolling, and icing, and set a new reality check date further down the calendar.

Back to Brighton

I was in Park City this weekend for my wife's Rowmark reunion and one of the events on our schedule took us to the mouth of Cottonwood Canyon, and I couldn't resist driving up to the Brighton ski area to see what it looked like in the daylight after a short drive, rather than in the middle of the night after 75 miles on foot during the Wasatch Front 100. (Enlarged photo).

Given where it comes in the race and what follows, Brighton and its nondescript A-frame is a signal aid station - the venue for much tragedy and triumph.  As my pacer that day, AJW, wrote in one of his blog posts: "Brighton eats runners for dinner!" And it certainly took a bite out of me that night, but thankfully not one so big that I couldn't rally on to the finish.

A couple Brighton-related excerpts from past blog posts:

And the night of Wasatch, I actually did my best-ever washerwoman impression heading out of Brighton at mile 75. If I wasn't the personification of someone slowly turning into a tree, I don't know what I was. Just ask my pacer - and the four people who passed us.

From 100 Miles with James Joyce: My Foos Won't Moos

After the seven mile traverse of the ridge that oscillated between 9,400 and 9,900 feet, we took the long-feeling, but not really that long, descent to the Brighton ski lodge aid station (mile 75).

It was here things came a bit unglued. While Andy was seeing to his energy needs (something like 8 of the renowned Brighton hash brown bars!), I got weighed one last time (down 5 on the day) and Brad loaded up my pack and bottles, knowing more than I did at that point what I needed. I grabbed a cup of soup, and we left the chaos of Brighton for the remote trip up Catherine's Pass to Point Supreme (mile 78; elev 10,400 ft). Still in view of the lodge, the queasiness that started to come on as I gathered my things together, crashed over me and all my energy vanished. It wasn't pretty. Clutching my cup of soup, trying to take in whatever I could, AJW took the lead at what had to seem to him like a sub-glacial pace. For the first time since the early going, I was passed by a couple runners. But, we went with it and just kept moving forward and after about 15 minutes, my stomach settled and the few calories I was able to get in primed the energy pump, and once again we were able to move ahead at a pretty steady pace. It was a true relief.

From Race Report: Wasatch Front 100 Endurance Run

Robbins and Garneau Take 2010 HURT 100 in Record Times

Team Montrail runner, Gary Robbins, took the men's crown at the 2010 HURT 100 in Honolulu, Hawaii in a record time of 20:12, beating Geoff Roes' 2009 record of 20:28.  Tracy Garneau took the women's race (and third overall) also in record time.  Her 24:06 bested Krissy Moehl's 2007 record of 26:15.

It was a big day in paradise for Canada.  Canucks took the top three spots in the women's race, and the top spot in the men's

Top 3 Men
1. Gary Robbins                        20:12
2. Nathan Yanko                       22:30
3. Brett Rivers                           24:40

Top 3 Women
1. Tracy Garneau (3rd oa)    24:06
2. Monica Scholz                      32:02
3. Charlotte Vasarhelyi         32:28

Full results here.


Previous post: HURT 100 - Top Three Through Mile 53

HURT 100 - Top Three Through Mile 53

Update (1-17-10):  Gary Robbins takes 2010 HURT 100 in a course record time of 20:12.  Thanks for the update, Derrick.  Online live results are still down but check out Gary's Twitter feed.

Midway through the HURT 100 in Honolulu, Hawaii, Gary Robbins and Tracy Garneau lead the men's and women's fields, respectively (race site). Run on a 20 mile technical loop course with approximately 5,000 feet of elevation  per lap, the HURT 100 is an arduous gem on the 100 mile circuit, looked to longingly by those just beginning a long winter of running on ice and snow.

Top 3 Overall Through Mile 53 (Nu'uanu 3)
Gary Robbins (M) 10:00 hrs
Nathan Yanko (M) 10:35 hrs
Tracy Garneau (F) 10:49 hrs

Official ongoing updates.

One Runner's Photo Log of the 2009 Season

Yes. Yes. Yes. It's time to put to rest the rosy-glasses look at the past season and take 2010 head on. But I had to afford myself one last dispensation with a photo log of my 2009 season. Admittedly, this is more for me than anyone else, but if you look closely, you just might see yourself.

If possible, view it in HQ.

After the Lottery - 100 Mile Experience in Western States 100 Lottery Winners

To be sure, confetti was tossed by many of those glued to their computers and smart phones yesterday, but it was set up to be a disappointing day for most. The odds simply foretold it. Less than 20 percent would make it out of the Western States 100 lottery and get a golden ticket to the Big Dance in June 2010. The probability was just large enough to spark great hope but small enough to ensure a big wave of disappointment as the last few winners were pulled and eager would-be runners found their names left in the netherworld GU2O bucket of the UltraSignup server. I could go more in to the ups and downs of the day, but Craig Thornley captured it very well in his post last night.

As folks recover from the lottery hangover, surely the debate will continue about the size of the lottery and the possible need to revise qualification standards to make Western States a more selective race - akin to the Boston Marathon. As an adjunct to this discussion, I thought I'd follow up my previous post on the number of applicants with 100 mile race histories in the lottery, with one on the number of those who actually made it out of the lottery who actually had 100 mile history.

I followed the same general method as in the previous analysis (see post for details), and as such it has some of the same frailties. Overall it's a slightly blurred snapshot but one that should capture the general trend.

Not surprisingly, the results are quite parallel between the applicants' histories and the winners' histories. Where about 61 percent of the 1519 applicants had ever completed a 100 miler (as found in Ultra Signup results) and 54 percent had completed one in 2008 or 2009; 64 percent of the 270 lottery winners had ever done a 100 miler, with 56 percent of winners notching at least one in 2008/2009.

Clearly, these numbers are not groundbreaking news, and they seem to provide fodder for those on either side of the debate. For some, they'll show that the current liberal qualifying standards still allow a fairly 100-experienced field to toe the line. For others, it'll show that a good percentage of folks who have demonstrated their ability to complete a 100 mile race will be left out of the Grande Dame of 100's, their spots going to some folks whose hardest race may have been a flat 50 miler.

At Least 60 Percent of Applicants in Western States 100 Lottery Have 100 Mile History

Update: (12-6-09) Post-lottery report on number of lottery winners with 100 mile history (update).

Yes, The North Face Endurance Challenge Championship is this Saturday, and despite astounding battles setting up at the head of the 50 mile race in both the men's and women's fields, a good number of us will be shackled to our computers and smart phones not to see if Uli can run down Geoff Roes in the closing kilometers but to see if we drew the golden ticket in the lottery for the 2010 Western States 100 (site).

Amidst all the anticipation, there's been a great deal of thoughtful and often fervent discussion about qualification standards for Western. Craig Thornley's most recent post on the the current lottery has drawn over 100 comments alone (post), and for a full immersion in the niceties of the myriad views on the topic, I suggest you read Craig's post and comments. But, one of the perennial issues is whether Western States - the quintessential 100 on the calendar many would argue - should require a 100 mile qualifier rather than the more liberal qualifying standards currently in place.

Flipping through the applicant pool last month on Ultra Signup, it seemed to me that a good portion would already meet a 100 mile qualifying standard. So, with too much time on my hands as I work through an off-season injury, I decided to click through the site with Madame Defarge-like tenacity to get a more accurate sense of what proportion of the current applicant pool has completed a 100 mile race in 2008/2009 or at any other time, as found in the Ultra Signup database.

A few caveats. This is a slightly blurry snapshot. Applicants were being culled as I was going through, so it was a bit of a moving target. Some applicants clearly showed results for people with the same name. Foreign applicants often listed no results. I assume many of these runners had 100 mile equivalents, but I didn't count them, unless their profile photo showed them finishing UTMB (a very small number). Finally, crashed browsers or fighting kids may have resulted in a few errant clicks on my part.

So, what did the numbers show? Out of a current pool of 1519 approved and pending applicants, a little over 60 percent (923) have at some point completed a 100 mile race registered in the Ultra Signup database. Just under 54 percent (818) have completed a 100 mile race recently - in either 2008 or 2009.

Exactly what these results would mean for the size of a lottery requiring a 100 mile qualifier is unclear. Yes, the pool would be smaller, but it certainly wouldn't be an easy in. These numbers here are likely an underestimate, and still, over 900 applicants have completed a 100 miler in the past, over 800 of them fairly recently. If a 100 mile qualifier were put into place in a year like this one, it's likely that lottery numbers would still crest over 1,000, possibly well over.

The implications this would have on the quality and character of the race, I'll leave for others to discuss.

100 Miles with James Joyce: My Foos Won't Moos

A transcendent romp through the night that meshes the real and imaginary, capturing life's tragedy and triumphs in the sample of hours between dusk and dawn.

A circuitous, all day journey from watering hole to watering hole, where the same clutch of people cross paths throughout the day until they all come together in a liquid and calorie-fueled finale.

Description of the last 100 miler you did?

Most likely. But they're also the plot lines (as they are) of James Joyces' Finnegans Wake and Ulysses, respectively.

Though I've been a runner and a devotee of Joyce for most of my adult life, it was only in the last month that I saw any parallels between his writings and my running. During my usual mind games a couple weeks ahead of Wasatch, a phrase from the washerwomen chapter of Finnegans Wake kept coming into my mind, a phrase that would presage my first mile heading out of Brighton on race day.

In the close of Book 1, two washerwomen are doing laundry in the river, sharing rumors of the novel's two main characters. As night falls, they begin to transform - one into a tree; another into a stone (you just have to go with it). As the one woman changes into a tree, she tells the other: "My foos won't moos." Written in Joyce's at-times-maddening "night language," the line translates to, among other things: "My feet won't move."

So I had a great time playing this line with my wife in the lead up to the race, thinking of the 26,000 feet of climbing to conquer and the ever-increasing temps called for on race day. And the night of Wasatch, I actually did my best-ever washerwoman impression heading out of Brighton at mile 75. If I wasn't the personification of someone slowly turning into a tree, I don't know what I was (see previous post). Just ask my pacer - and the four people who passed us.

But, even beyond such a direct connection, Joyce's general philosophy meshes wonderfully with that of ultra-running. He reveled in the extraordinary within the ordinary. Whether it was a lowly advertising canvasser (Leopold Bloom in Ulysses) or a hod carrying father of three (Humphrey Chimpden Earwicker in Finnegans Wake), he saw within each person's life a complex web of history, philosophy, mythology, observation and desire forged in the trials and triumphs of every day. Who of us who has been lucky enough to race, run, or walk through a 100 miles hasn't felt such a broad transcendent experience in that enriched time between the gun and finish line?

Moreover, Joyce's characters are nothing if not peripatetic. In Ulysses, the main characters journey in and around Dublin in an exhausting and event-filled day that begins at dawn and finishes with a final collapse into bed in the wee hours. In Finnegans Wake - perhaps the most ultra-esque novel - the characters traverse time, space, and reality as dreams and hallucinations play out over the course of a single, wild night.

Yes, I know. Such simple parallels between Joyce and ultra-running are not the thing that dissertations are made of, but I've always treasured the connections in my life - the small things that cross-over from one passion to the other, magnifying both. So, it was a real gift to finally see a connection between my favorite sport and my favorite author, so much so it was almost OK that heading out of Brighton my foos wouldn't moos.

Race Report: Wasatch Front 100 Endurance Run

When I started to see my breath reflected in the light of the headlamp, I felt it might happen: I might actually finish my first Wasatch Front 100, something that in the early hours of the race seemed as remote a possibility as winning the thing outright. But as I made my way off the final major climb up to near 10,000 feet, descending to the moister and richer air of the lower elevations, I could not only feel a measure of energy and calm returning to my body but also see it in the slow steady breaths that seemed to crystallize in the light. With fewer than ten miles to go to the finish at Homestead, I let myself for the first time truly believe.

Twenty two hours earlier, I had been hunched over and vomiting, a victim of total gastric shutdown, which began just after Grobben's Corner (mile 14) until a couple miles past the Bountiful B aid station (mile 24). It was disappointing. My outside hope for a near 24 hour time was quickly replaced with the hope of just finishing, as one hour of walking and very slow trotting on runnable terrain spilled into two, and then three hours. Nevertheless, I knew I had no choice. I kept coming back to something my friend, training buddy, and eventual pacer that day out of Lamb's Canyon had told me a year earlier after my disastrous (he would say ridiculous) drop at the Teton 50 the previous September: take the time to settle your system when things turn south before they reach past the point of recovery.

So, I walked, and walked, and vomited, and walked, and watched scores of people pass me. And when I got to Bountiful, I sat reclined, two chairs over from a disappointed looking and skinned-up Prudence L'Heureux (whose day turned out to be done). There I stayed for close to ten minutes, drinking a lot of ice water and on the sage advice of the aid station captain, a cup of flat Coke with ice. Then out I went, ambling toward Sessions (mile 28), and things started to turn around.

The knot in my system started to loosen. I could begin to run a bit. A few miles later I was moving at my regular pace and began to baby my stomach with food and fluid. A few ounces of Coke here. A Cliff Blok or two there. The metronome intake of 250 to 300 calories an hour that saw me to the finish at the Bighorn 100 in June, was replaced with what I came to call the "tolerance" nutrition plan. Whenever I felt like I could stomach some calories, I'd take them in, which came to about 150 to 200 calories an hour for the rest of the journey - not horrid but not an amount that left much wiggle room, as would become clear later heading out of Brighton (mile 75), but I get ahead of myself.

Finally feeling better, I was able to start tapping out some strong miles and making up some ground. In 69th place out of Sessions, I was 30th or so into the major Big Mountain aid station (mile 39), where I got to see my fabulous, one-man crew, Brad Mitchell, who I'm pretty sure knew before I even told him that it'd been a rough ride to get there. He met me, took all my stuff, and ushered me to the scale (down 3 pounds). While he filled my bottles and hydration bladder, I quickly grabbed some gels and bloks (most of which I knew I wouldn't be able to eat) and headed out for the overgrown and overexposed 14 miles to Lamb's, enjoying the brief chance to chat with Brad as we walked to the trailhead.

The trip to Lamb's was uneventful, if hot. It had turned out to be the warmest Wasatch in 12 years, and although I typically don't thrive in the heat, I wasn't feeling too bad. I kept drinking and drinking (five plus bottles by the end of the section), had a chance to chat with Tom Remkes and Scott Mason, and came into Lamb's feeling pretty strong and ready for the company of my pacer, AJW.

Yet again, Brad was great: filling bottles, arranging for some soup, and taking a quick assessment of my overall state. Walking out of the aid station, and through the underpass to the checkout, Andy updated me on happenings at Lamb's - a number of people were dropping from the heat and eventual 3rd place woman, Darla Askew, was 5 minutes ahead of us - and we made our way to the climb up Bare Ass Pass (mile 57).

After the heat into Lamb's, the cool and shaded woods out of Lamb's was amazingly refreshing, as was the chance to share some war stories with Andy, who I knew was assessing the damage of the day and figuring out out what he needed to do to get me to the finish. He joked, cajoled, praised, navigated, waxed nostalgic, and always fell silent at the right times. The perfect pacer from beginning to end.

We made good time up and over Bare Ass and then up to Millcreek (mile 61), hitting it at dusk, where with Brad's help we refueled and grabbed our nighttime gear for the trip to the high country of Desolation Lake (mile 67) and Scott's Transmission Tower (mile 71). Though I felt fairly good overall on this section, my low calorie intake really made the steep climbs at over 9,000 feet tough. What little bit of energy I was getting from my fuel, the climbs would eat up instantly. After the seven mile traverse of the ridge that oscillated between 9,400 and 9,900 feet, we took the long-feeling, but not really that long, descent to the Brighton ski lodge aid station (mile 75).

It was here things came a bit unglued. While Andy was seeing to his energy needs (something like 8 of the renowned Brighton hash brown bars!), I got weighed one last time (down 5 on the day) and Brad loaded up my pack and bottles, knowing more than I did at that point what I needed. I grabbed a cup of soup, and we left the chaos of Brighton for the remote trip up Catherine's Pass to Point Supreme (mile 78; elev 10,400 ft). Still in view of the lodge, the queasiness that started to come on as I gathered my things together, crashed over me and all my energy vanished. It wasn't pretty. Clutching my cup of soup, trying to take in whatever I could, AJW took the lead at what had to seem to him like a sub-glacial pace. For the first time since the early going, I was passed by a couple runners. But, we went with it and just kept moving forward and after about 15 minutes, my stomach settled and the few calories I was able to get in primed the energy pump, and once again we were able to move ahead at a pretty steady pace. It was a true relief.

Ant Knolls aid (mile 80) was next, a great station with a great crew who let us know we were currently sitting in 22nd place. After taking a couple shots of Coke, and feeling a world better than I did 5 miles previous, we headed for the "Grunt," a notorious, not very long but very steep late-stage climb. My legs felt good and we made pretty short work of it. Then it was off to the last aid station at Pot Bottom (mile 93).

Barely dodging disaster out of Brighton and having already passed the runner's generally slower than me, I thought we'd settled into our station in the race - 22nd. But on the final descent into Pot Bottom, I was surprised that we caught Darla (and her pacer, Krissy Moehl), who offered very kind words as they let us by, and another group of three (one racer, two pacers).

Trying to keep our momentum, we were in and out of Pot Bottom quickly (passing, I believe, one other racer who hadn't yet left the aid). All that was left: One final bottle of Coke; one final decent climb, and then the final, often gnarly, long descent to home. The way I was feeling, I knew I was going to make it. Though the steep ups and downs were still pretty slow, I had the legs and the energy to tap out a pretty good rhythm on everything else, and when we hit the road to Homestead, just three quarters mile way, I was ecstatic. It wouldn't be 24 hours, but it would be very close to my time at Bighorn (an arguably faster course), something Andy knew. So, just to make sure we capped things off right, he took us home in a good closing clip, and I was able to cross the line just under Bighorn time in 25:34:19.

Nearly 27,000 feet of climbing. 26,000 descending. 19th place overall, and a world away from the dark hours of 69th.

It was just a little over a year earlier that I had closed out my first ultra season with a total meltdown at the Teton 50, my confidence in tatters. But in hindsight it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. It focused my training, made me experiment with nutrition, and motivated me to sign up for races more difficult than Teton so I'd have the chance to prove to myself I'd moved beyond the early failure.

It was that concatenation of races that lead me to the line at Kaysville four days ago, and I feel privileged to have had the chance to run that amazing course, with an amazing crew and pacer, and to gather the richness of experience a long, long day on the trail offers us all.

Photo by Matt Galland; Desolation Lake in the daylight.

You Think You'll Run Wasatch in What Time?

My Wasatch Front 100 pacers on yesterday's run around Greenhorn Gulch. As reserved as always, we won't be sneaking up on anyone. Anxious to toe the line.

Wasatch Front 100: 10-day Forecast

Related link:  2009 Wasatch Front Race Report

It's been a strange four weeks that have brought me to the 10-day forecast for race day at the Wasatch Front 100. As the 2.9 regular readers of this blog know, the posting of the 10-day forecast holds a special place in my race preparation calendar, marking the beginning of the final run-up to the line where you hone your fitness and plan your drop bags (past post). Unfortunately for Wasatch, it's had the added quality of also being a bit of injury roulette, and I have no idea whether the ball is going to land red, black or double zero.

Largely out of nowhere, a neuroma in my left foot left me hobbled and cross training in early August. A couple doctor's appointments later, and I was back on my feet running but at a reduced schedule. And if I'm honest, I have to say I'm not sure what's lurking over the next 10 days, especially on the ever-unknowable race day.

Overall, though, things have been feeling OK, if far from perfect, and I plan to toe the line and pound out 100 beautifully hard miles of the Wasatch Front under somewhat threatening skies with a high of 81.

Reflections on the 2009 Bighorn 100

Twilight dissolved into full darkness as I made my way across the boggy meadows to the turn-around at the Porcupine Ridge aid station at mile 48. It's the time in a race I've really come to enjoy. And Friday's Bighorn 100 was no exception. The harshness of the day softened; the maddening crowd of the early going dispersed; and the questions starting to be answered.

How do I feel? How's my pace? And most importantly for my first 100 mile attempt: How are things looking for a finish?

Until this point, I really had no answers. The warm, 11am start at the Tongue River Canyon, while wondrously beautiful, made the day already feel long even before the gun. But it gave me a chance to chat with a couple great Fort Collins guys I'd only met via blogs and attackpoint.org, who would both go on to very strong finishes: Nick Clark (2nd) and Pete Stevenson (7th).

At the gun, it was up the canyon on the gravel road a couple miles; then on to some undulating, singletrack for another couple; then, the first extended climb that would be surprisingly crowded until the next aid station. It certainly challenged me mentally. My legs didn't feel particularly spry; my stomach felt bloated from mishandling the late start, and the tailwind up the canyon kept things feeling warmer than they should have.

The Upper Sheep Creek aid was great to see (mile 8.5). A chance to fill bottles and shake off the climb. Things began to spread out a bit as well, and I got to run on and off for a number of miles with Steve Kirk (RD of 3 Days of Syllama, who'd have to eventually drop at the turn-around with an offline stomach), Ashley Nordell (who'd soon drop me and go on to win the women's race in 24:51), and Trevor Hostetler (who'd finish after some hiccups on the way).

Aid stations came and went, I ate my PB & J's, drank my Nuun and Succeed products, and took many photos of the amazing scenery. The climbing kept going, the mud kept getting deeper, darker, and less avoidable. Night began to fall, and I finally had some early answers.

Nearing the mile 48 highpoint of the out/back course: My stomach was feeling good; my pace felt good; and knowing there was a long way to go, I was beginning to sense that a finish was possible if I kept positive and to my plan.

After the turn-around at Porcupine Ridge ranger station around 10:30pm, I headed into full darkness and crossed paths with runners heading up (some feeling better than others). This part of the course was marked by wide, watery (often trail-less) meadows and expansive views of the milky way. I'd just mark the next glowstick and slurp my way along to it -- sometimes quickly realizing I was heading for a low-slung star instead. Of all the memories of this day, those from this section are the most vivid.

Creek crossing not far from Porcupine Ridge

From here, I passed through a couple aid stations -- passing a couple bonked runners on the way -- and got back to the major Footbridge station (mile 66) around 3:30am, still feeling good.

After a quick weigh-in, the real run for home then began. Out of Footbridge is a big, nasty and often muddy 2500 foot climb over 3.5 miles. It was slow going, and as the day began to dawn, my energy began to drain. I was able to keep up a good steady pace up until Cow Camp aid (mile 76), but from there on, I picked my way home, trading leads with Ogden runner, Tom Remkes (who'd eventually get me by six minutes).

Cow Camp aid station

Although I could keep taking gel after gel up to the finish, my legs just couldn't seem to muster any energy, and my quads screamed on anything but the slightest downward pitch (of which there are very few in the closing miles). Seeing my hubristic goal of a 24ish time slip away, I grew a bit despondent, but kept picking my way home.

When I finally hit the Tongue River Canyon road aid station (mile 94), I figured out that if I ran 90 percent of the closing miles, I could come in under 26 hours. So I filled my bottles, pounded four more gels, and shuffled for home in the now hot mid-day sun, crossing the line in 25:35 -- good enough for 11th place.

Into the finish at Scott Park (photo by Michael Powers)

While I may have wanted a bit more, I'm extremely happy with the result. Eleven months after my first ultra (the White River 50), I was able to toe the line and finish a challenging 100 miler -- and most importantly live to tell about it. I can't thank my much more accomplished training partners enough for sharing their tricks of the trade that really made it all possible.

Still, I've got a lot of work to do, a lot of troubleshooting to perform. But for the time being, I'm going to put my feet up for a while and just enjoy the moment.

Don't tell my Wasatch pacer.

(Complete photo album)

(Official results)

Early Results: Meltzer, Nordell Win at the 2009 Bighorn Trail 100

Update: Full results now available on the Bighorn site.

Karl Meltzer sloughed off an encounter with an angry moose and took a handy victory in record time on Saturday at the stunningly picturesque and challenging 2009 Bighorn Trail 100 in Dayton, Wyoming. Women's winner, Ashley Nordell, went unchallenged from start to finish. (Click on finishers' list to enlarge).

Heading North: Ready for the Bighorn 100

Driving north back toward town this morning after dropping my boys off at camp I realized that I could see a lot of the trails and peaks that made up the backbone of my winter and spring training this year. Bald Mountain (Baldy), where I made many crampon-donned ascents and descents this winter in a desperate quest for vert, dodging baffled skiers all the way. Quigley Canyon, my go-to route for the standard, no stress 7 - 10 mile runs. And Carbonate Mountain, the lifesaver singletrack climb that's one of the first to open in spring and on which my buddies and I have done lap after lap after lap getting ready for the early season races.

It was really amazing to take it all in in a single view, which brought with it flashes of all the hours I've put in and all the tune-up races I've done. For the first time in my taper week ahead of the Bighorn 100, I felt calm; I felt confident; and I felt ready.

Time to get the bags packed and head out the door.

Bighorn Trail 100: 10-Day Forecast

Now ten days out from the start of the Bighorn Trail 100, here's the first look at race day conditions. High of 80 with showers -- better Nikwax my Houdini.

For my brief thoughts on the 10-day forecast as race prep milestone, check out this post.