Monday, July 22
200+ mile attempt #9
Weather - a bit of everything
*Disclaimer*
These are my opinions based on my experience at THIS race. The race directors are wonderful and kind people that I have interacted with outside of this event.
These are my opinions based on my experience at THIS race. The race directors are wonderful and kind people that I have interacted with outside of this event.
This race should have been a showcase of what I consider to be my local trails and a celebration of all the hard work I have been putting in for many months - and it wasn't.
Preface
This race was announced last fall (summer?) It seemed too good to be true. A 200 mile race basically in our backyard? Where we spend most weekends from May to September? Initially the registration was done just as a waitlist since they did not want to charge people for registrations in case permits did not get approved. Either way, Ben and I were the first two people on the waitlist way back in November. Getting permits approved was slow-going and I think it was mid to late March before everything was finally good to go. Ben was on the fence about going and registered fairly last minute - about two weeks out.
The days leading up to the race were filled with excitement at showing out-of-staters our wonderful trails. I answered hundreds of questions on gear and weather and spent hours trying to help people with finding equipment and rides and pacers. Perhaps I should have spent more time worrying about myself.
Race Day
I got about 12 minutes of sleep. It took HOURS to fall asleep and I tossed and turned ALL NIGHT. Well, after sleeping wonderful for months, multiple nights of not great sleep are the worst way to start a long week of being on my feet. Nothing I can do about it. Paul and gang were heading out much earlier as they were picking up Ana on the way out, so for a bit it was just me and Ben getting ready and out the door. We did manage to get out right on time, which is a rarity for us.
We arrived at the Nordic Center with about 30 minutes until the start. Since we didn't have a crew we had to park a bit down the lot and walk over, but it wasn't a big deal. I of course used the extra time to cycle through the bathroom a few times and finish my coffee.
Start to Tenderfoot (0-9.02)
We started in the very back, like usual. The cutoffs for the first few segments were much shorter than the overall cutoff needed, but as long as we ran something we wouldn't have to worry about anything. My stomach was OFF this whole segment and I think I had to stop at every single bathroom (which thankfully, there were many of them).
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| Photo: Jason Peters |
Tenderfoot TH to North Shuttle Lot-Keystone (9.02-23.06)
The aid station stop was brief - I only had to switch out of my road shoes and put my trail shoes on and grab something to eat. We heard that there had been a baby bear on near the aid station earlier, we of course missed it.
Neither Ben nor I was familiar with this next trail section - we had never run it before. We agreed that we were happy to be doing this during the week (and early in the morning), as it looked like a mountain biker's dream with lots of twists and turns.
I remember not feeling 100% during this section. For some reason I was feeling very dizzy and I told Ben we needed to stop for a minute so I could sit and eat something and try to reset. Unfortunately, the "not feeling great" would continue for the rest of the race, although until I started to write this up, I didn't remember that I felt so icky so early.
It finally warmed up enough to take off my jacket and we spent a lot of time in this section with Scott. Scott is an awesome, "OG" runner and it was fun to listen to his stories.
This section surprised us with quite a bit of vert right off the bat, but we ended up having some nice, runnable sections on the way down.
North Shuttle Lot-Keystone to Horseshoe Gulch (23.06 to 34.12)
Terri was volunteering here and it was great to see her. My stomach was finally starting to feel better and we grabbed some food (red grapes here were so tasty!) and sat in the shade for a few minutes.
Starting in this section was when mapping became really important. We followed the road down and then turned to go under the road and suddenly it seemed like there were no markings anywhere.
Neither of us realized that it was going to be another section of a lot of pavement... First we were going through a parking lot, then turned onto a bike path. We put in (one) earbud and then did more running to hopefully bank more time.
The path followed the river and there were definitely more people out and about by the time we got to this section. We arrived at some "confusing" markings - again, it would have been better to have an additional confidence marking somewhere, or at least not a flag super far down. Thanks to running the route on my watch as well as using Gaia, we didn't get off course here, but could easily see how others might. We were along the side of the road for a bit and through a neighborhood before we finally got to a trail head and back on trails. There were some bikes in this section and we probably didn't run as much as we should have. It was very warm and exposed here.
We were both surprised to end up on the Hippo trail! We had done this section (the opposite direction) as a training run months ago and had no idea that it was part of the course. (We did NOT do Vomit Hill in the race, but I've done it before and it's definitely vomit-inducing).
By this time there was a big group of us (maybe 5-6 total) heading into the aid station. I can't remember now who else was with us. The short out and back to the aid station and we saw Johnny heading up from Horseshoe and Lisamarie, Rene and Jonathan were leaving as we arrived.
Horseshoe Gulch to North Fork (34.12 to 43.71)
It was HOT at the aid station. We pulled up a chair and ate hot dogs here. This was the section that I had scouted a few weeks earlier, so in my head, I felt like I was prepared for what was happening here.
We headed out (alone, I think) and Scott wasn't too far behind us. Unfortunately for me, by this time, I was already starting to feel the effects of the climbing and heat. We saw Paul and Ana coming into the aid station and figured they would catch up to us soon with as slow as we were going. Scott did catch up to us pretty quick and passed us. I remember feeling extremely frustrated with how I was feeling. Barely a 50k in and I was already watching time slip by.
We passed the time by joking about how it was so hot, and why couldn't it cool down or get breezy or ANYTHING. It seemed very stifling.
We were hiking up a section and suddenly Ben says "what was that noise?" I perked up and it sounded like water - initially I thought maybe we were coming up on a river or waterfall, but quickly remembered that there was NO water in this section and I said "I think it's going to rain." Probably 30 seconds later it started to hail. We immediately stopped to put on our jackets, even though historically I probably wouldn't have, but I'm glad we did. Thumbtack size hail just pounded us - for a seemingly REALLY long time.
At one point we actually cowered under a tree because getting continually pelted with hail did NOT feel great. If this was going to be a premonition for what the weather was going to do the rest of the race, I was worried.The storm went on for much longer than expected, so glad we had put on layers. It cooled things down a lot, and once it finally stopped (20 minutes later??) it was quite pleasant.
North Fork Loop (43.71 to 60.43)
Rolled into the aid station earlier than I had expected, and I would have been fine not picking up my Kogalla and battery until this aid station, but I had carried it since Horseshoe "just in case." We had not wanted to spend a lot of time here, but I think because so many of us got here at the same time, this ended up being double the amount of time it should have. We also decided to just prep for night and wear some of our layers. Then Ben couldn't get his headlamp to work (I had mine, as well as us both having Kogallas, but it was still frustrating). Because the ground was wet and there weren't enough chairs for everyone we didn't have anywhere to put our stuff down where it wasn't going to get muddy and that was also very frustrating. Ben and I tend to feed off each other's stress and we were really trying to get out of the aid station without being annoyed and angry. HOWEVER, 40 freaking minutes for an aid station stop is NOT cool. Should've at least been 10-15 minutes less than that.
We were able to go out for about 15 minutes before needing our lights. Ben had scouted this route a few weeks earlier and he said that it was basically a long climb until it leveled out, downhill, a few miles of flat and then downhill on the road.
We got about 20 minutes out and heard howling. Both of us were like "holy shit, there must be hundreds of coyotes out here!" And then Ben remembered we were on the backside of the sled dog training facility and it was actually hundreds of huskies. We had good laugh about that.
Physically, this is where my race started to crumble. The climbs (that were not that bad) felt really hard and I had developed my "Tahoe cough." I don't remember too much of what the trails were actually like. At some point we passed Lisamarie, Rene, Johnny and Jonathan, as they were all resting on the side of the trail.
We finally got done with all the climbing and had some wider dirt roads to go down. There was basically zero course markings in this section and once again, I was glad to have the route on my watch as it helped us get through without getting lost. We arrived at the flat section that I thought I remembered being 4-5 miles. I wish I could have moved faster here, but I was quickly getting tired and all I could think about was getting back to the aid station.
Once we got to the dirt road, we knew that we were finally in the home stretch of the loop. We did some running and were surprised to see a photographer at the water crossing at the bottom. Supposedly you could have walked across the logs to avoid getting feet wet, but I don't have a great track record of staying upright when trying to do that so I just pulled up my pant legs and walked through, knowing I had a change of clothes and shoes at the aid station.
North Fork to Chihuahua Gulch (60.43-72.2)
Ecstatic to arrive at the aid station. And then it all went downhill from there. There was an unheated yurt with cots, but they were all full. There was one volunteer at the aid station. She kept telling us that there were no beds and... that was it. We were like, well we have to sleep, what do we do? She said she would try to wake up the people that had been there the longest, but until then we were out of luck. Between the overnight just in general being chilly and having just done a water crossing, we were COLD. The runner that had been there the longest had arrived before 1 am and he was refusing to get out of the cot. Not to MENTION, he had hijacked most of the "blankets" that were provided by the race. The other runner, Charity, got up relatively quickly. By this time, the other 4 people had also showed up and also wanted to get some sleep. We have probably been at this aid station for nearly 30 minutes and still have not been able to get a cot. FINALLY, we get the cot and we have to share one. I think it's better than nothing and we try to be quiet while getting out of our wet clothes and lie down. We have two itty bitty thin blankets between the two of us and as there is no heat in there, we are still freezing. We pull out our emergency blankets, but between the tiny size of the cot and the cold, we waste over an hour and get zero sleep. Then we are trying to change into dry clothes and discover that even though our bag was waterproof, with the bags being out all night somehow water or condensation got in our bags and more than half our gear is too wet to wear. I had my spare clothes in a ziplock and at least that seemed dry enough to wear. We finally leave the yurt to get food and there isn't much food left other than snacky foods, but they made us some pancakes to eat on the way out.
Unfortunately, this began the pity party and un-fun part of the race that would basically continue until we dropped. We were told that "the next two sections were challenging" and boy they were NOT wrong. This section was completely f*cked and for the most part I hated it. The lower road leaving North Fork wasn't too bad - for about 3/4 of a mile. Then it became the most insanely steep "road" I've ever seen. At one point we even used Ben's phone as a level to see what the actual grade was and it was something like 20%, and remember we are really high up in elevation also.
Seemingly no amount of training was going to have prepared me for this, and honestly, had I previewed THIS section, I am not sure that I would have signed up for this race at all. We had two miles that were nearly an HOUR each. An HOUR!!! WTF?! It was literally like taking 15-20 steps and then stopping to breathe and not being able to take a deep breath, coughing fit starts and then doing it all over again. It was incredibly miserable. At least when we finally got off that shitty road, we saw some less technical "road"
We could finally "see the end" of the climbing. On the "last climb" up the road where it levels out we saw some outlines. At first it looked like it might be horses or cows mainly because of the dark coloring, but then I guess it was mountain goats - and I was right! I asked Ben "was this climb worth it because we got to see butts??" - he said maybe.
Time to do some work. We were both so relieved to be NOT climbing that we probably were walking pretty slow going down. It was a bit rockier than either of us like, but at least we felt like we were undoing some of the stupid slow climbing.
Seemingly every time we would get comfortable with less climbing, we would encounter another big hill.
The views were super pretty, but it was hard to enjoy them. Between the climbs and my cough getting worse by the minute, I had worked myself up into a really shitty mood. For a "12" mile section, this was taking exponentially longer than we had planned. The dirt roads finally dropped down and that meant we were finally getting close to the aid station. Temperatures had spiked again and we were not happy at all in this section.
We had to go all the way through town and down a big hill to get to the aid station. We saw Ana and Paul and pacers and heard the chipper "hurry and catch up!!" Yeah right.
Chihuahua Gulch to Duck Creek (72.2 to 88.97)
We stocked up on a loaded mashed potatoes and other calories and tried to get out as fast as we could. We left basically the same time as Jonathan and Johnny. Jonathan had picked up a pacer and quickly left us in the dust. The turn off to Webster Pass was also not marked and Gaia seemed unsure if that was actually the way to go or not. We did waste a few minutes ensuring we were going the right way here. Casey had warned us that there was a "turn" that "everyone" was missing and that we needed to pay attention. They were trying to show us where it was on the tracking but it didn't make sense and we didn't know what mile it was at, so we weren't sure if it was early in the section or later... all we knew was we didn't want to miss that. We were also instructed to "ignore the gpx, it's wrong, and watch for course markings" - which is the exact opposite of what we were told to do previously.
We left about 4 hours under cutoff. There were multiple junctions that were not marked and we had to look at the map and guess and hope it was the correct one. This was very frustrating. We get to the top of Webster Pass. First, my watch tells me to "turn right" right when we get to the top. But that sign says "to Lodgepole" so I figure that isn't correct. There is flagging ahead of me with no sign. And then there is a sign to the left that says to Duck Creek and finally we just head that way and hope it's right. (In the future, with a section that is hit multiple times, it would help to have a "do this first" or something. After all the warnings about not going the wrong way we were very paranoid here).
We were told that there were three "blips" - short, but steep climbs that would take 30-45 minutes for middle/back of the packers to do. What a f*cking joke!! Maybe on fresh legs. I bet these "blips" took us well over an hour and grades were probably in the 35-40% range, incredibly steep, combined with loose rocks made this SO slow.
This was horrible. By the time we would get done climbing, I was ready to faint trying to catch my breath. We would have a few feet of reprieve, but then we would have to set up to do it again.
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| Photo: Jason Peters |
We finally finally FINALLY made it to the top of the third blip. We got our picture taken at the flag at the summit of Red Cone (pic to follow, probably). That's when the photographer asked if we would wait for Johnny before we started down the backside. Why? Two photographers were up there (I will need to figure out who the other one is to properly credit pictures) and they were communicating between each other that they suspected Johnny had HAPE and didn't think it was safe for him to go down alone. We were like, we feel bad, but also, we are VERY far behind and have our own cutoffs to try to make. I am wheezing and coughing also, and could also very well have HAPE or other breathing issues going on, but honestly - what? That is why there should be medical on the course. I don't necessarily mind watching out for other runners and both Ben and I will help others out as best as we can with calories, electrolytes, salt, even extra gear if we have it. But for a race to put the burden of basic medical on contracted photographers and other runners is irresponsible. I guess previously it really hadn't occurred to me that there was no one affiliated with the race that could assist with anything medical related.
Heading down the ridgeline and I had pulled out Gaia since there were not any markings and I wanted to see where we were turning off. The faint South Park trail, was indeed, faint. The first 100 or so feet you would never have been able to guess there was a trail, so it's probably no wonder the gpx was messed up. At first we were happy to be down a bit lower, but while the South Park trail was "pretty" it was rutted and not super conducive to running as you had to watch your feet the whole time with holes and uneven footing.
Duck Creek to Hall Valley (88.97 to 100.29)
Had we had crew, we could have sat in a vehicle and gotten warm. NOT having a crew meant the same thing as it did at the other aid station we hit at night. Sitting outside, clinically hypothermic. There was nothing to get warm. I HAD TO SLEEP at this point. I was wearing everything I had and using both our emergency blankets. I thought I had set my alarm and I actually did fall asleep for maybe a half hour, but when I woke up the time had never been started, probably because my fingers didn't work. It was so cold I woke up wheezing and coughing even worse than before.
At some point my mittens fell out of my pack, which meant I had nothing to cover my hands other than the sleeves of my coat until I got to my drop bag at Hall Valley. Someone had turned in ONE glove, and I took that with me when we left, along with a pair of hand warmers. We had some sloppy joe's and coffee, but were quickly losing our buffer and had to get out of there.
We actually moved really well when we left the aid station initially. I was starting to feel better about our position and how we were doing. Both of us were hyper-focused on looking for my mittens, as I knew I had them at the first water crossing because I remember tossing them on the ground with my poles when I filled my bottle. We never did find them, sadly. We took one more nap and once again I slept leaning up against a tree.
It seemed like we were never going to get out of this South Park purgatory. Arrived at the meadow climb and thankfully it didn't seem as long as the way up. The whole section was miles longer than it should have been, which was completely messing with our overall pace as well. We dropped our extra layers. The rest of the mileage into Hall Valley was steep and rocky and I hated all of it. Downhill is where I can make up time, but not if it is technical and rocky. Ugh. Where is all the actual trail?
Hall Valley to DNF failure again
We were REALLY happy to get to Hall Valley. Our friends were working the aid station, and we figured, FINALLY, people who know what it's like to be on the trail for this long. This was supposed to be 100.2 miles and I was at 107.8, without EVER being off course. So, at our pace, that accounts for 3 hours lost... just in the course being long.
Hoa made us some incredibly delicious burrito bowls. I managed to find my spare pair of gloves in my drop bag. Christine arrived shortly before we headed out with the really disheartening news that this next section was taking EVERYONE much longer than planned. Like the fastest person still hadn't arrived and it had been over 12 hours. Which by the time we were leaving is about what time we had to do it in. In the race guide, the cutoffs gave 10.5 hours. We were 90% sure at this point we would not make the cutoff, but since we were still ahead of cutoffs (BY A LOT), we headed out anyway.
We get a few raindrops and wind, but nothing crazy. Cristine contacts Casey and tells her we want to drop. There is no contingency plans for anything, so thankfully we were able to get out on our own, but I guess worse case scenario, we could have hit the emergency SOS button - that's what it is there for.
Probably within 2 miles I told Ben that it was probably stupid to have left the aid station. There were now vehicles, ATVs and dirt bikes out and kicking up dust on the road. My cough was now horrible. I was wheezing and my breathing so shallow that the slightest sharp breath would cause me to have a coughing attack that had me hunched over. But we continued on. This was the second longest segment without aid. We were told "you will get your feet wet in this section" and realized this is what they meant:
Watching this video now, it's shocking how slow I am moving. It didn't seem that way at the time. I filled my filter bottle here, not knowing this was NOT drinkable water. Which immediately sent me into a panic. We were told we needed to average 30 minute miles, and we were already over that pace. 
We realize where we are and it's shocking to think that when we were looking down from Webster Pass that this all looked smooth. Spoiler, going up the other side is even MORE technical. It wasn't that steep of a grade, and I know I sound like a broken record, but I could NOT catch my breath. It was just a struggle to keep going.
The flowy switchbacks we had seen were rocky and dusty. We could see a snow wall from quite a ways down and I hoped that we would be close enough to it that I could use some of that to put in my filter bottle. Just looking at where we were on the course I knew that we had probably hours until we got anywhere near water that could be filtered and I was panicking about that a bit.
Jason was at Webster Pass taking more pictures and he said something like "hope to see you tomorrow, but if not..." and we were both like, yeah, that's not going to happen. Had we known then what we would figure out in maybe an hour, we would have probably just asked him for a ride back down.
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| Photo: Jason Peters |
I probably pay too much attention to metrics, but I was trying to figure out how much gain we had already done and what we had left. Did I misread something? Was there anything I missed and would we still be able to make up time somewhere? We were on a talus field (ugh, the worst) and then I realized we were in NO way done with climbing. We continue on, but it is a losing battle. I can't go more than a minute or two without convulsing into a coughing fit. We look behind us and see that somehow Christine and Dash are right behind us sweeping. How did she catch us so fast, and what happened to Johnny?
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| This is absolutely a forced smile |
At this point we have 8 hours to make the next cutoff at Lodgepole. Supposedly a sleep station, but again, it's not inside and everything we have seen previously would tell us that it would be unheated and we would be hypothermic both upon arriving and leaving.
Now comes the tough part. We are in the middle of a mountain range. Christine has caught up with us. Weather is rolling in. AND THERE IS NO WAY WE ARE GOING TO BE ABLE TO MAKE THE NEXT CUTOFF. This section is a steep, faint trail. I can't even imagine hitting this at night?? There was no mention of this type of exposure in this section in the race guide.
Everything is made worse by having to deal with having the sweep with us. We couldn't make our own decisions without having her involved in it. We wanted to get her and her dog off the trail also as she still had quite a few miles to sweep. I don't know if I've ever had croup, but it felt like I did in this section. I was trying to move as quick as I could and it caused me to get insanely out of breath and I'm worried about weather and finally a full blown panic/anxiety attack hits. I don't care about the exposure but I care about the fact that I'm up here on this fucking mountain, not able to breathe, not able to meet these pathetic paces to finish this race that I SHOULD BE FINISHING, and I start hyperventilating and crying.
We have to stop to put on layers as the weather appears to be coming in quickly.
We have a friend that lives in the area and we are able to make contact with him and he says he will pick us up further done as the "trails" we are on eventually are more like jeep roads. We moved down to get out of the wind and finally are able to convince Christine to head on without us.
Our day is done. It takes us HOURS to with intermittent service, sharing of the tracking and Gaia with coordinates to arrange a ride. We do have to hike down a few miles, and realize that we are still on the race course anyway. The downhill is NO better than the uphill, other than I can breathe better. I am coughing up yellowish-green phlegm.
It's probably 8 before we get picked up and head to Frisco to get Ben's truck.
Gear:
- Ultraspire Zygos 5.0
- 2 x 600ml bottles
- Katadyn .6 liter filter bottle
- Leki Poles
- Kogalla & Petzl headlamp
- Garmin 7s
- YMX base layer with rabbit top over
- Shorts - Rabbit 5" leggy smashems and 5" CVG
- Shoes - Topo Phantom for first 9, Ultraventure 2 from 9 until 60, Mtn Racer 3 until DNF
- Goodr sunglasses
- Tahoe 200 hat and Bula fleece hat
- Patagonia Airshed, Patagonia R1, Mountain Hardware Ghost Whisperer 2, OR rain jacket, REI rainwall pants (that finally have so many holes I think I have to repair them), Smartwool mittens (RIP), smartwool gloves
- Emergency blanket
Thoughts:
- To say I'm disappointed would be the understatement of the century.
- 50%-ish finisher race. 12 finishers out of 25 that started.
- The aid station food was really good. I have no dietary restrictions, but considering food is usually one of my biggest gripes, I don't have that here. All the usual stuff was there, but also unique hot food at most of them.
- The aid stations themselves were not great. Sure, for 100 miles or a race at 4,000', fine. But not for mountain high elevation. I'm still shocked that it never occurred to me that we would not have a way to get warm. I would have packed my own stuff had I known, although the race guide only said "if you are unable to sleep on a cot in the wilderness then this race is not for you" and that drop bags for sleep stations have the same size limitations as others - so it would have been tough to plan for that. Those without a crew vehicle were severely disadvantaged and I wish I would have realize that sooner.
- This race was designed with rules to make it fair and equal for those with and without crew. I don't think it was like that at all. We were not the only people without crew, there were others. We were, however, by far, the SLOWEST that didn't have crew. Unfortunately, not having a crew easily cost us hours.
- The markings were really pretty terrible, at least in the first half that I saw. That's one aspect that I'm glad I really go overboard on making sure I have. Gaia map was integral, as well as having each segment on my watch for turn prompts. It was also disheartening to be told - rely on the electronic devices, but then have a section where that gpx was wrong. Also, the Duck Creek section was miles longer than it should have been.
- The gear requirements were very important and I'm glad we had them as I used everything that was required. The filter bottle was especially important. I don't know that we needed to carry everything from the start (like the first segment was completely unnecessary), but it was nice not having to re-pack items at a later time.
- The manual said there would be medical personnel at random aid stations. I did not see any such person, maybe that was later in the race.
- I have been on a lot of the trails in the second half, and wish I would have gotten that far. The middle "trails" were mostly roads and not fun. I struggle with that type of terrain. I guess I just didn't realize it would be like that.
- It definitely sounds like I am being very negative about this, and I'm not sure if that is just because we didn't finish. Would I have felt the same if I had one of those beautiful buckles? Maybe not. With that said - I feel like there is a lot of room for improvement in this event. For example, I'm not sure how a big mountain race is put on without medical professionals, to be honest. Luckily, from what I know, no one got seriously injured or sick - but what if they had?
- The swag was really nice - fun t-shirt, backpack, stickers (wah, I wanted to put one on my car), and finishers got a Patagonia fleece jacket, buckle and patch.
The big question - will I go back for redemption? Immediately afterwards, I said HELL NO. But I know myself, and the chances of going back are pretty good. I'll just have to rope other people in, because THIS IS NOT A GREAT COURSE TO DO SOLO, UNLESS MAJOR CHANGES ARE MADE.
